“It sounds like a system that doesn’t encourage productivity,” Kati said.
“No, it doesn’t.” The local brayed a short laugh. “And you see the results all around us.”
He had turned to stare at the Inn, and Kati, recalling that the Innkeeper’s son was supposed to come lead the runnerbeasts and the cart to the stables, looked there, too, and saw a youth, tall and thin even for a Vultairian, approaching.
“Here’s Morrin to take charge of your animals,” the townsman said. “You will want to have your show on The Square; there is no better place for it. We townies will get together in the morning and gather up the stage and the seating we use during the Harvest Festival, and set them up. If you want to supervise, I suggest that you be up early.”
“Are you people here to put on a show?” Morrin asked as he took hold of the runnerbeasts’ reins. “Did Lukik tell you about The Maroc’s rules?”
“About the money grab? Aye, that I did; all of The Maroc’s rules are about revenue. He doesn’t care about anything else. Morrin, you take them who go to see The Maroc, to The Big House, tomorrow morning. Show them where to go, and give them what advice you can.”
“I can do that, yes, Lukik,” Morrin said, getting the cart into motion. “And I’ll show you folks where your rooms are before I stable the animals. I’ll leave your cart in the front room of the stables, so you can get at whatever you need from it.”
*****
Later, Kati decided to do a little bit of walking along the star and moon-lit streets of the town, while she awaited her turn to bathe in the shared facilities.
“Are you sure that you want to go alone?” Joaley asked. “How safe is this burg, I wonder?”
“Probably as safe as anyplace else,” Kati shrugged. She could not imagine worrying about her safety in the small, dusty settlement.
Joaley dug out one of the smuggled stunners from her bag. She slid it into Kati’s pants’ pocket, forestalling the immediate protest.
“Humour me,” she said. “I’ll soak more comfortably in that bath-tub if I know that you have a means to defend yourself, if necessary.”
“All right,” Kati agreed, laughing. “Although I’ve always got the Granda with me, and he’s a weapon, too.”
*****
She strolled over to the Town Square, to assess its suitability as the venue for the morrow’s show. It was empty; the whole town seemed eerily empty. Only the Tavern and the Inn’s Lobby were lighted; the rest of the buildings and houses were dark.
“Looks like they roll up the streets awfully early,” she muttered to herself.
It was a place badly in need of entertainment; if Joaley succeeded in driving a decent bargain with The Maroc, they might actually break even the next day. Not that it really mattered; Ithcar had been good for their purse, and even the Underground Base had added a little to the hoard of coins which was now hidden among Lank’s possessions. That had been Joaley’s idea; Lank as the youngest Troupe member would seem the least important, and therefore the least likely to be in charge of their stash. Kati had gone along with the plan, amused. She didn’t care about their Vultairian riches; if they lost it all to a thief, they would be able to recover quickly, in the meantime, singing, playing, and juggling for their suppers. But Joaley felt strongly that since they had worked for the money, they should have the benefit of the comforts that it bought them.
“That’s fair enough, but I’m woolgathering,” Kati muttered, as she walked.
She wanted to try to contact the Forest Spirit, curious to know if she could reach it here, away from where she had first come to know it, and amidst farming country. Some of the Vultairians had referred to it as The Spirit of the Land; did it belong to the very landscape of the planet, or at least of the continent they were on? If so, perhaps she could count on it for help even as their journey continued, maybe even inside the Capital City. If, for whatever reason, she could not reach it outside the Dark Forest where the Rebel Base was, the sooner she knew that, the better.
She made her way to where a few struggling trees reached for the one small, visible moon of the two that Vultaire had. They would have to stand in for a forest, she decided, and sat down under one of them. She had to shift her backside several times before finding a position in which the tree’s gnarly roots did not dig into her butt, and the profusion of weeds did not have her sneezing.
“These trees are probably older than their size would suggest,” she subvocalized to The Monk, but received no response.
“Help me feel around for the Forest Spirit,” she then requested.
This seemed to be of more interest to The Monk. He aided her in mentally casting off, leaving behind a merest thread of awareness to anchor them to her body. There were wisps of a Spirit aura around the scraggly trees, but nothing that Kati could grasp. Behind one of the larger houses in the village there was an apple orchard, its trees loaded with tiny green fruit. These seemed to have more of a tree-consciousness about them, but nothing like what she had experienced in the Dark Forest.
“We may have to go to where the farmers’ fields end, and the woods begin,” subvocalized The Monk.
“Let’s try that,” Kati agreed.
She sent a quick, questing thought to her body, to make sure that it was all right; then she and the Granda rode her ESP energies over the fields, to the nearest woods. They scouted among the trees; these were smaller than the ones in the Dark Forest, and, apparently, planted to a human design. They stood in straight rows; the term “tree-farm” came into Kati’s mind. She felt something akin to what she had sensed from the apple orchard among these trees, but not until she and The Monk had passed them, and entered the natural growth did she become aware of the Forest Spirit.
The Spirit greeted them as an old friend.
“The farmed country and the humans there do belong to me,” the Spirit assured them. “I am to be found there; I ride the winds, and check how the growing things are doing. I encourage the plants and creatures that need encouragement, call down the rain when water is wanted, and scatter the clouds when sunshine is needed. But my humans don’t help me much, except when it comes to their crops; they seed, fertilize, and reap those. They do look after the fruit trees and the berry bushes, and muck about in their kitchen gardens, but when it comes to what grows naturally, and belongs to no-one and everyone, they just don’t seem to care. They allow plants to die; the town and many of the farmyards, too, would be empty wastelands if I didn’t keep things green, but how long I can prevail in the face of such apathy, I do not know.”
Kati thought of what the townie, Lukik, had said about the Maroc.
“Is that it?” the Forest Spirit asked her. “Is The Maroc why the balance of the land is awry?”
“I suspect that it is so,” she subvocalized. “I and my companions are here to change things, as you know. Can you, and will you, aid us whenever and wherever we may need you?”
“We who comprise the soul of this world will try to do so,” the Forest Spirit promised. “It is easiest to touch me in the Forest, but I can be reached elsewhere, too. Take your consciousness among living plants—healthy trees are the best, but any plant can be a key—think of me, the Essence of the Land, and concentrate on that; the message will get to me. I will come, on a gust of wind, the caress of a breeze, or even the blow of a stormy gale.”
Kati thanked the Spirit, and excused herself, for her physical body was drawing her back to it. She was needed there.
She snapped into her body, and opened her eyes to find herself staring at a pair of gaudy-coloured stockings, and clunky but ornate boots. She craned her neck to look up—way up—to see the rest of the brightly-coloured outfit of an Exalted, a young man, judging from the face on which her gaze finally landed.
“Hey, she woke up!” the stranger said, more at her, than to her. “An off-worlder, having a little nap, while seated under a tree on the Town Square! One of the minstrels, I suppose. What happened to you, did you forget where your lodg
ings are?”
He was crowding her personal space, he was standing so close to her, but Kati was not about to move, or register her discomfort.
“Lost in thought,” she replied casually.
“He likely has no idea what that means,” The Monk sneered. “Likely hasn’t had a thought in years.”
Looking up at the Vultairian’s face in the dim light, Kati had to concede that the Granda had a point. The man had the dullest features that she had seen on any Vultairian, Exalted or not. It looked like some angry god had taken an axe to his face and had carelessly trimmed off all the sharp parts. The result was disconcerting; Kati was suddenly grateful to Joaley for having pressed the stunner on her. Not that she intended to use it, unless seriously provoked, but having it made her feel a bit more self-confident while the tall moron loomed over her.
“You know that you singers have to get permission from us, the Marocs, before you can put on a show?” he asked.
“That will be seen to in the morning,” she replied, straightening her neck and staring into the distance.
“I suppose somebody told you that The Maroc takes a cut from your proceeds,” he added gleefully.
“You obviously aren’t The Maroc!” she snapped.
“Me? The Maroc? Nah.” He laughed. “I’ll never be The Maroc and that’s all right. My father’s The Maroc, and when he dies my brother Elren will get the job. He’s in the Capital City right now, learning the ins and outs of my uncle’s business there. I’m the one best off in the family, being the younger son. No responsibilities; no jobs to learn, but I’ve got access to The Maroc’s purse, and can have anything I want.
“Which gives me an idea—what’s your price? I could use a woman, and you don’t look bad—for an alien.”
Later Kati told herself that she should have been prepared for this—after all, she had heard enough about the proclivities of the Exalted—but she was not. It shocked her, enough that for a moment she was speechless.
“I’m a musician, not a prostitute,” she finally managed to say.
“Aw come on, what’s the difference? I’ll even let you keep all the money I’m willing to pay you—The Maroc shall not get his cut, this once.”
Kati stood up, her back against the trunk of the tree behind her. She fingered the stunner in her pocket, then crossed her arms.
“You don’t know much about off-worlders, do you?” she asked in a disdainful tone of voice. “Have you any idea how insulting your offer is to a hard-working musician from The Second City, Lamania? No female musician would ever double as a nightlady.”
She remembered the term “nightlady” from The Drowned Planet. At the time she had liked the term; it had given dignity to the women who made their living by sexually entertaining men. Lamania had its “nightladies”, too, but there they were called “Comforters”; they were of both sexes, and were available to anyone lonely enough to put in a request.
“Oh, come on.” The young Exalted man was scornful. “There are all these off-worlders working the brothels of the Capital City. You think that I haven’t been there and seen them? As a matter of fact, I have used their services.”
“Well, isn’t that interesting information,” Kati said drily. “And how did these off-worlders happen to come to the Capital City of Vultaire, to work in the brothels, when foreigners are generally encouraged to remain in the Port City? When I was there, no-one was exactly inviting my Troupe to make like travelling minstrels.”
“I know nothing about that,” the man said, shrugging his shoulders. “Not my business; I just enjoy life as I have the right to do, as a member of the Family Maroc.
“By the way, don’t you people have a Klenser pretending to be a musician in your group? I could put off informing Berd Warrion about him if you’d humour me.”
“Oh darn!” Kati was sure that her sarcasm was passing right by this prize nobleman! “It so happens that he and his sister are no longer with us. They decided to stay in Ithcar to entertain the people living near the Dark Forest. Apparently a lot of folk fear the Forest so the nearby towns have trouble getting minstrels to stop by. Mathilde and Zass figured that they could make a living being braver than others.”
“But you do have a Vultairian male with you!” the Exalted protested.
“Sure we do. An adult fellow, a member of the Ithcar Musicians Guild. He sings, and plays the rhyele, even as Mathilde did. We consider ourselves lucky to have him along with us. So feel free to say whatever you want to, to Berd Warrion; he’ll not find the boy he was so keen to ship off to a Klenser farm, among us.
“And now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for me to get back to the Inn. Tomorrow will be a long day. Good night.”
She clutched at the stunner in her pocket as she strode past the young Maroc before he had a chance to react to her departure. She walked across the weedy Town Square fast but at an even pace, fearing that the fool of an Exalted might try to grab at her behind, but disdaining to look, and refusing the Granda the permission to ride her PSI power to check on the noble lout.
“I will not let on that he scares me,” she subvocalized when The Monk chided her carelessness.
Perhaps her posture of arrogance was the correct stance to take with the Maroc scion; in any case, she made it to the Inn safely. When she finally allowed herself a glance behind as she rounded the building, the annoying Exalted was gone. With her node-enhanced vision, she should have been able to spot him even in the half-light of the evening; he had left.
“Thank goodness,” she muttered, half-aloud. “I don’t much feel like having to defend my virtue tonight.”
“Should you ever have to do that,” The Monk subvocalized, “let me control the stunner. I’ll fix the joker’s crotch for him for the next half-a-dozen days!”
Kati had to control an attack of mad giggles.
“Could that be done with a stunner?” she asked.
“Sure,” snarled The Monk. “I had it done to me once, by a feisty young lass, when I was in a male body. It was the most unpleasant experience!”
Now Kati could not control the giggles. She totally confused Joaley who sat on her bed with a towel turbaned around her head, when Kati entered the room.
“Is what the Granda told me possible?” Kati asked Joaley after she had explained her hilarity to the red-head.
“Sure, if you’re a really good shot,” Joaley answered, and by now she, too, was laughing.
“That wench was an excellent shot,” The Monk complained. “As am I by now, even with a weapon as gutless as a stunner. But which can be put to good use if it’s all you’ve got.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Joaley said cheerfully when Kati had relayed the Granda’s comment to her. “Some of the Exalted males could use a shot in the crotch on occasion!”
*****
At next morning’s breakfast, their table was the cheeriest one in the restaurant as Kati regaled the Troupe with her encounter with the young Maroc Family member. However, when she told about the Granda’s reaction to the fellow, The Monk’s threat, and the story behind it, there were groans from the y-chromosome contingent.
“Aw, come on, Kati,” Rakil protested. “You wouldn’t do that to a guy, would you? It’d be frigging mean. It’d be kinder to just stun him, normally.”
“Of course she would,” Joaley threw in before Kati had a chance to respond. “She’d be doing a favour to who knows how many women who wouldn’t have to worry about the dork for a week. Maybe it would teach him a lesson.”
The motherly woman who had come to take their orders was listening to them.
“Did one of you run into Joha Maroc?” she asked.
“Joha?” Kati raised her eyebrows. “Come to think of it, I didn’t get his first name. But I don’t suppose that there are more than one really dumb-looking Exalted in this town, especially ones who proposition strange women.”
The serving woman smiled.
“Not at this time of the year, no,” she replied. “Although d
uring the Harvest Festival a couple of his cousins from the Capital City often show up to plague the modest young women.”
“Those modest young women need stunners,” Joaley interjected.
“And lessons in accurate shooting,” Lank added.
“I gather that you turned him down,” the older woman said to Kati.
“Indeed,” Kati replied with a shudder. “Even had I been in the market for male company, he’d have been pretty far down any list that I might come up with. Below even that miserable Berd Warrion, whose name he used as a threat.”
“Hey, as I recall it, you flirted with a Warrion, you incorrigible actress!” Joaley said.
“That was in a good cause.” Kati laughed.
“Be careful,” the server said. “Joha may want to take revenge on you. Especially if he finds out that you’ve been laughing at him behind his back.”
“Ooh, Kati, maybe you’ll have to let the Granda at him after all!” Joaley crowed.
“I doubt that I need to worry,” Kati said to the serving woman. “I ignored him when I left him—he surprised me when I was deep in thought, sitting under one of the trees on the Town Square, last night—and I was a little afraid at the time that he’d follow me, but by the time I reached the Inn he had disappeared from view, so I don’t think that he was all that keen on me after all.”
The waitress shrugged.
“He probably went to find one of his usual providers. You must have struck him as difficult prey. That’s all right then; he’s lazy, if he’s anything. Or he’d already heard that you people were putting on a show, and he’ll be as glad as anyone of a diversion at this time of the year. Especially since his Pa will make money off it.”
“Yeah, Morrin’s supposed to come and show Rakil, Lank and me where The Maroc can be found,” Joaley said. “So we better give you our food order so we can eat and run.”
*****
“Make sure that you get the agreement you make with The Maroc down in writing,” Morrin said, first thing, when he met them at the back of the Inn. “If you don’t have paper, I’m sure that my Mother can share a sheet from her supplies.”
On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted Page 42