The Taleweaver

It was the first meeting after the escape, and as such it had much of a war council over it. Harbend was there, as were both of the escort captains, but neither Escha nor Gring were present. They were in the care of the magehealers, apparently headed by a yellow-eyed woman who had joined the caravan in a way Arthur was still unclear about.

At the moment, though, she was not with her patients, and he wondered what made her important enough to take part of the meeting. He didn't mind. She was pleasant enough to look at as long as you didn't take into consideration eyes that seemed to have seen too much. Arthur would have guessed her age at the late thirties despite her youthful appearance, but something he was unable to put his finger on hinted she was older. If the notion hadn't been so ridiculous he would have said she was older than himself, maybe by several decades.

Captain Laiden spent most of the time before the real meeting started with giving Captain Weinak uncomfortable glances she paid no heed. She in her turn looked at Harbend with eyes so hungry Arthur couldn't help laughing.

Chaijrild, Arthur thought, should have been allowed to take part of whatever was going to be said, but her mother had refused to leave the side of her daughter for as much as a moment, and Arthur could hardly say that he didn't understand.

Thinking of the girl made him uncomfortable. He had no wish to meet her mother anytime soon. How could he answer questions from her? Chaijrild was sure to have told Lianin about what he had done.

Hell, even the mother is younger than I am.

Arthur tried to rise, but his right leg wouldn't carry him and he sat down on his pallet again. The magehealers from Ri Khi had done something to his leg so it didn't hurt any longer, but it was still too weak for him to stand on. At the moment he was happy he'd been unconscious when they pulled the arrow out. It would probably have hurt otherwise, even though he couldn't even remember being hit. There was a lot he didn't remember from his capture, and from the time after the rescue. They'd been badly starved he was told, and he did remember waking dreams of being fed.

Arthur gazed at those present waiting for someone to begin. Captain Laiden did, ah, Trindai, yes that was his name. Trust Trindai to be the first to act, even if only to speak.

"Both escorts are out searching for enemies. We need to know if we're going to be attacked again."

Harbend snorted. "Not likely I say. It has been three full days since we returned."

"That's less than the time I'd need to gather troops if I wanted to return in force, M'lord."

"Why should anyone want to?" Arthur asked.

"Because anyone stupid enough to take a taleweaver prisoner and not releasing him or her immediately must make certain the incident never becomes known," the yellow-eyed Magehealer answered.

"I don't understand."

"Arthur, what have you been told about Keen and magic?" she asked smiling at Trindai as if sharing a secret.

"Enough to know they don't agree very well, apart from Verd in itself that is."

"If I assume a full regiment from Keen would gladly ride out alongside battle mages from Rhuin or Khanati should it ever be known that someone had targeted a taleweaver, how wrong would I be?"

The captain gave her a crooked grin. "I don't know about gladly, but it would be a sad day if we could only muster a single regiment," he agreed.

Arthur looked at them in bewilderment. "That's insane! Why use that kind of resources for the sake of one single individual?"

The Magehealer smiled back. "Yes, why indeed?"

Arthur suddenly had a vision of frantic activity in the orbital docking station circling the planet. He didn't need an explanation for that activity. After all he'd made sure to pay enough bribes to prolong the pursuit knowing well enough that federation officials would come after him sooner or later anyway.

"But that's... different."

Harbend shot him a surprised look. "What is different?"

"She," Arthur pointed at the Magehealer, "did something so I saw my own people."

"Is that true, Neritan?" Harbend asked. So that was her name.

"Yes, but it's hardly the point. I wanted him to understand that more than one empire takes interest in the destinies of certain individuals."

"Ah, I see."

"Now, we need to know the identity of the one who ordered you captured," Neritan said.

"I still don't understand, and I was just a bonus I guess," Arthur answered sullenly.

"A what?" Trindai asked.

"Oh, he didn't want me. He was after Gring."

Several stares were exchanged before Neritan spoke again. "Who did, and why?"

"We were captured by horsemen from the plains led by a Khraga chieftain named Kharg. Gring fought bravely before we were captured. I think she'd want that to be made clear."

"Kharg?" Neritan looked at Captain Weinak.

"I'm not familiar with the name, but we don't meet enemy Khraga that often," she answered.

"So, this Kharg of the Khraga captured you, or rather Gring, is that correct?"

"Yes," Arthur muttered. "Chaijrild and I just happened to be there." Well, that wasn't entirely true. He'd been accompanied by Gring for most of the journey since they left the Roadhouse, and Chaijrild had made more than her fair share of attempts to follow them around.

Neritan smiled, and he could feel her smile inside his head.

Damn, she's a bloody Mindwalker, just like Gring.

"Yes, I'm a Mindwalker as well as a Magehealer," she confirmed aloud. "Now, why would this Kharg want to capture Gring?"

Arthur remembered all too well. "He accused her of being a renegade, a traitor of sorts."

"Oh," Neritan said. "Oh."

"What?" Harbend asked. "What's so important about that?"

"I know more of the Khraga than I think any of you do. In their eyes there could be no greater offense to their own than a traitorous Khraga. Well, hunting a taleweaver would be worse, I guess, but not by much."

"Are you saying we'll have an army of vengeful Khraga on our backs?" Trindai growled.

"I'm afraid so, unless we can convince them that capturing Arthur was a greater crime," Neritan answered.

"They wouldn't believe that," Arthur said silently.

This time he was the sole target of surprised stares.

"And why is that?" Neritan asked, her voice cutting the silence like a sharpened razor.

"This Kharg, he didn't believe I was a taleweaver. I tried to convince him in the fortified village we were brought to. I'm not sure I can describe where it is."

"No need, we know," said Captain Weinak and shuddered.

Neritan gave her an irritated glance and turned to Arthur again. "How did you try?"

Those eyes! Those horrible, ancient eyes.

Their yellow light cut through him like a beacon through glass. There was nothing he could keep hidden from her.

"I Wove," he whispered, terrified she would slay him on the spot if he didn't give her the answer she wanted.

Neritan was still like a statue, but Harbend drew his breath.

"And the bastard didn't believe you?" Trindai hissed.

"No. He must have thought I was a Mindwalker or something, because he said I was only playing tricks with their minds."

"Arthur, are you certain? Inside the village? There must have been witnesses." Neritan this time.

"Yes, I'm sure, but most of them looked unhappy."

"They are going to look a lot worse than unhappy when the expedition arrives," Captain Weinak shot in. "We should be able to get help from Braka if we get there."

"Please! I'm not from here. Someone explain to me." What was going on? More strange secrets of this world?

"If this village agreed to this then we truly have renegades on our hands."

"But they didn't," Arthur protested. "Kharg forced a decision and had us jumped to a place Gring called Gaz."

"Gaz! I should have known! Why did you not tell us, Harbend?" Captain Weinak cried.

Arthur looked at her. He ought to know her name, especially if she had become the love interest of Harbend.

Captain Weinak, Captain Nakora Weinak.

"Would you have come? Sorry, I take that back. Escha did not think it was important. There has been very little problem with Gaz for centuries, and besides not even they would violate that law," Harbend answered in a barely audible voice.

"But they..."

"Quiet!" Neritan shouted. "Quiet all of you! Harbend is right. Gaz, of all empires, would never do such a thing. Believe me! So, you were brought to Gaz. What happened there?" Neritan nodded at Arthur.

"Kharg wanted us to be interrogated by a questioner or something like that," he answered.

"Well, that should definitely remove all doubts whether you were a taleweaver or not," Neritan said with something sounding like relief filling her voice.

"Well, it didn't turn out that way. We were sentenced to death by the questioner."

"What!"

"Yes, but he seemed bloody angry as well."

"Did this questioner have a name?"

Arthur tried to remember. "Yes, Vailin, or something like that."

"No family name?"

"Uh, yes, yes, now I remember. He said his name was Vailinin ad Rhigrat."

The silence that followed was absolute.

"What is it?" Arthur asked when he could bear it no longer.

"The son," Harbend whispered.

"Yes, but he's reputed to be nothing like his father," Neritan answered weakly.

"Who could possibly be?" Nakora asked and looked as if she was going to be sick.

"Again, I don't know what you're talking about," Arthur said.

"His father, Kakad ad Rhigrat was a monster. If his son has turned rotten then there's nothing we can do. If he decides to wipe us out before we reach Braka then we will die. He's a truth seer, an interrogator of a kind who are supposed to be fully dedicated to truth and nothing else. With the reputation and power he has he could order a large portion of the military force Gaz has available just to hunt us down."

"The last I saw of him was him having a shouting match with Kharg. Ask Gring, she can tell you more, but I'm certain he wasn't too pleased with ordering us dead."

"Are you telling me he didn't want you dead? Please, be very careful with what you say."

Arthur looked Neritan straight into her eyes. "He did not. I'm as certain as I'll ever be. As I said, ask Gring. Don't even remember actually being sentenced to death myself."

Neritan nodded and left the meeting.

"What do we do now?" Arthur asked to no one special.

"Nothing," Harbend answered. "We go on to Braka. This is beyond me. Neritan is of the golden, and so is Vailinin. This will be solved elsewhere, unless we get killed first." With that he also left, Nakora trailing his steps.

"Great, just great!" Arthur muttered.

It was a strangely subdued caravan continuing its snaking trail towards Braka. It was as if they could all feel Arthur's mood, and he spent the days practicing his skill with De Vhatic, catching up a few phrases in Khi on the way, but he didn't take up his earlier routine of telling tales during the evenings.

Any result from the meeting was kept from him, and he didn't bother to ask. Empires and strange laws was not what he wanted to get involved in, and as long as no one specifically told him he needed to he intended to keep as far away from it as possible.

He concentrated on mastering De Vhatic instead as he no longer had a Mindwalker at his side at all times. Working on the language was far easier now. Spending all the time with Gring must have made him used to the patterns of thought people used when talking, and he realized he was becoming close to fluent with the language in an impossibly short time.

Within a few weeks he was once more sitting around cook fires telling people about life on Earth, but now he spoke without the help of Gring, which would have been impossible anyway. She was occupied together with Neritan trying to bring back Escha to sanity. He was the only one who had lost anything that couldn't be replaced.

Trai, brave Trai. The dandy had become a hero, and now he wasn't among them to hear the praise. Arthur guessed he would have smiled and bowed with his arms outstretched in one of his outrageously flamboyant gestures had he been among them to listen.

"I hate being locked up with my mother!"

"She nearly lost you, child," Nakora responded.

"Don't call me a child!"

"I didn't mean to..." Gods! The brat is two years, three, older than I was when father died. "offend you," Nakora lied when she sensed Chaijrild noticing the silence.

"You weren't there. Now Arthur won't even talk with me."

Nakora frowned. She had been there, but never as a captive. Still, this was her first opportunity to talk with Chaijrild since the rescue. "I understand. It must have been a harrowing experience."

"Harrowing?"

"Yes, the horror of it."

"Horror? He was satisfied enough when we slept."

Oh? Oh! The conversation had definitely taken an unexpected turn. "No, I meant... ah. Does he still have his stamina?" she continued to turn the conversation to a direction she was supposed to know better than weapons, tactics and logistics.

"Oh yes! For a man his age he..."

Nakora smiled despite discomfort creeping all over her. Taking part of the gossip was something she by now had agreed upon, and thinly disguised among unspoken rules lay her own evaluation of Harbend's nighttime skills. Not that she had anything to complain about, but talking about it, well.

Another overly graphic description reached her through her thoughts, and smiling, this time for real, she threw caution aside. "You really mean that? Now, I have heard of this herb..."

An endless snake, not of scales, but of men, horses and wagons. The train seemed to go on forever. They were almost at their goal now, and news about their arrival were sure to be buzzing around the capital. So close to Braka, maybe already there. Borders were not as clear here on the plains as closer to Keen, but there was a hint of salt in the air, and birds he hadn't seen since he last visited Hasselden flew past them from time to time, and all those signs told him they were closer to the sea now.

Braka boasted a small port, the only of its kind in human control this side of the mountains, and he hoped to reach it within a few days. From there it should be little more than an eightday to Belgera, the inland capital of Braka.

Harbend decided to leave the rear of the column and ride ahead. They had very little livestock left and would need to buy some when they arrived at the port. Maybe they could get a fair volume of fish. That would certainly be a treat after too much horseflesh and lizard. Only Arthur got exited when they brought in a lizard, but he displayed an inappropriate interest in anything with six legs.

Arthur, dear Arthur. After all this, and when he was finally safe he complained about losing his electrical book. Something about important notes lost. Harbend shook his head. He continued riding for a while. He didn't expect to meet up with Arthur, Gring and Escha as they probably rode with the vanguard now when both of the mages had received enough mental healing according to Neritan.

Chaijrild stayed with her mother most of the time, but she was young enough to discard some bad memories and grow back into her usual insolent, cheerful self. Escha, that was another debt unpaid. A man lost, and even though Harbend would never understand the love between two men he respected the Transport Khar too much to deny it had been there.

Harbend slowly shook his head. What should they do with Gring? Only recently released from the care of Neritan and once more running with the vanguard. Outcast from her own. He wondered if the Khraga living in Ri Kordari would accept her, and if she would accept them. Another debt.

Pushing the thoughts from his mind Harbend rode in search for Nakora. She would know how to divert his thoughts to more pleasurable paths. He smiled as he willed his horse into a slow gallop. Thinking of her made it easy to smile. There was more than joy in the thought, he admitted. He was falling in love with the radiant captain from Ri Khi, had been for a while now, and there was nothing he could do about it, nothing he wanted to do about it. She made him feel like the man his father had wanted him to be, or more than that. She made him feel like the man he wanted himself to be, which was far, far more important.

Maybe Uncle Ramdar had known more than Harbend had been willing to admit. There had been an undertone to the words about a unique quality each clan needed to display, an undertone that slowly made sense. Each person had to provide something more than obedience to traditions, or the traditions themselves would grow stale. Enough reason for such a peculiar demand as every clan represented something each family strove to become.

The snow around him still spelled winter, and winter it would be for some eightdays yet where they were. Harbend sighed. Keen was sure to show the first signs of spring already, especially Hasselden. The port was the first to throw off the clutch of winters never very cold to begin with.

It would be good to be somewhere warm now. Harbend longed for flowers and the fragile green of spring. Snow had once been an uncommon reason for joy, but now he had had enough of it to last a lifetime. He failed to understand how anyone in their right mind could want to live in a cold, barren wilderness. Always the snow covered plains with hardly a tree to break the monotony, only the wooded mountainsides painting a blue line far to the southwest.

At least riding banished some of the cold from him. A little while later, when he finally caught sight of Nakora, he felt a peculiar warmth streaming through his body.

They reached the first of their planned destinations a day later. It was the port where ships from Keen had once landed their wares before raiders made shipping all but impossible.

Harbend saw stone walls rising higher than any of the rooftops inside, and they had to pass through the gates before he could see any of the houses. The town was smaller than he expected. For all the important trade once passing through it was very little more than a harbor with some houses attached to it. Two, maybe three thousand souls made this place their home, and only if he included the surrounding farms. Harbend couldn't imagine why anyone even bothered with walling an over-sized village like this.

He looked at the harbor. It lacked the defenses of Keen's ports, but he couldn't see any signs of damage. The raiders apparently didn't sail here, but why should they? With no ships coming from Keen it was of no use for anyone but the sea hunters, and from the size of the town there couldn't been enough of them to justify warships to come here. Gods! If he didn't know it was here all traders to Braka sailed there wasn't anything justifying anyone sailing here.

That was one more reason to continue with the caravans. That and the people living on the Sea of Grass. An unexpected bonus, and they were closer to Keen than Braka. Close enough to swell any caravan going to Braka with traders from Ri Khi and Erkateren who didn't want to be away from home for too long. Those added wagons would pay for the extra escort needed for climbing the mountains, maybe even for setting up a smaller roadhouse on the Sea of Grass. That would make the mountain pass as safe as it would ever get.

Harbend would like that to happen. Every roadhouse away from the main roads eventually gave birth to a small town, and they all served as hubs for hunters, travelers and of course traders. One built on the plains would become something of a port if given enough time. It could happen during his own lifetime. He smiled at the thought. It would be something to be remembered for. The indirect founder of an important trading town.

"Would you like me to scratch your back?"

"Mm, yes, do," Nakora murmured and turned in the narrow bunk. She stretched and smiled, allowing herself to enjoy Harbend's hands on her back. Cramped or not it was still a luxurious feeling, and she intended to the most out of it.

"Like it?"

"Uh um."

"Want me to again, later?"

On the verge of lazily answering him she heard the edge in his voice and caught herself. "How much later?" she asked with apprehension and a little fear.

"As much as would please you," he answered.

"When we return?" Now, she had said it.

"Yes, I think I would enjoy that very much," Harbend whispered, and digging his lips into her back he fell very, very silent.

Tears came to her eyes. Would she dare sharing her life with him. Would she dare not to? But in the end the answer gave itself as she finally admitted what she had known for some time now. "I love you."

Harbend hugged her closer before echoing her words.

Harbend thanked the harbor master and mounted his horse. The trade had been good, and he didn't mind transporting wares from the port to the capital in exchange for a slightly better price for the goods he sold here. They even managed to buy a fair amount of livestock, and he was already longing for the change in diet. Nothing wrong with horseflesh and lizard, but a change, any change was more than welcome.

They snaked slowly through the landscape. The progress was fast enough for him though. Within an eightday they would reach Belgera, the capital of Braka, and there the real trading would take place. It would be the reward everyone in the caravan waited for.

Harbend smiled and hoped no one saw him. He probably looked as if he was growling. They were all happy now, looking forward to reaching their goal, but he knew there would be a return journey as well, and it was bound to be just as slow and time consuming as their way here.

Would there be protests, the same kind that had forced him to order the executions? No, probably not. They would be on their way home then. Harbend hoped he was right. Never again would he give the order to kill anyone just because they voiced a different opinion than his own, no matter how dangerous such opinions were. You didn't kill people for saying out loud what they were thinking. That wasn't right.

Harbend smiled again, a more honest smile this time. He must have spent too much time with Arthur. Soft Arthur from his soft world of strange powers. Then Harbend remembered the weapon Arthur had used in the mountain pass and later in the mad rush for freedom in Gaz. If such things were made for personal protection there was no end to what they could make for aggression. There was nothing soft behind curbing that kind of power.