The Taleweaver

Arthur spent the evening alone. He didn't care about being cold and miserable. Now he had proof that the official reports about Otherworld were less than accurate. If flora and fauna were identical, then that was somehow fine. Parallel universe, magic or divine intervention. If it was only partially identical, well that opened a totally different array of possibilities, and he fully understood why the government wanted to keep the lid on it for as long as possible. What Harbend called eagle had never existed on Earth, but most everything else was familiar. What if the finding of the Gate hadn't been first contact at all?

He needed to check his translations more carefully now, and observe more closely what he saw around him. The journey turned out to have more surprises than he'd thought from the beginning. After all he'd fled from pain rather than starting on a journey of exploration.

Arthur studied his notepad where he'd written down his observations. Now he did have a deadline. The power cells would last him a year, maybe a couple of months more if he was careful. After that everything he'd written down would be gone until he could lay his hands on a power source unless he started to make paper copies.

Plants, the thought sparked a nagging memory in him. Adding species could also mean subtracting them. Cotton! He remembered complaining about the lack of decent underwear. Of course cotton might grow unused, but they did have silk after all, even though what looked like silk could just as well come from some kind of spider for all he knew. He sighed. Too many guesses and too little real knowledge. Besides he was getting tired from reading and writing in the poor light of his wagon.

He stripped, hung his wet clothes on a pole running the entire length of the wagon just beneath the waxed cloth covering it, and crept into the bedroll he bought in Roadbreak. Damn Harbend, planning a camping trip without buying a bedroll. Almost as if he'd been preparing for some kind of strange survival exercise.

Again days came and went, two eightdays in total, and Arthur, true to himself, made an effort watching what grew, flew and walked in the landscape. He still wasn't sure about plants and trees, but most animals previously unknown to him turned out to have wings with the exception of a large six legged lizard brought in for food.

He spent a couple of hours each day trying to talk with the drivers and the men in the escort, but he made most progress with mother and daughter Termend. They weren't as preoccupied as the rest, apart from when Chaijrild had cooking duty of course, and Lianin showed real interest in his questions. One even led to her taking up part of her old occupation as well. A complaint rather than a question, if he was honest, and recognizing an opportunity in the absence of taverns she converted one of her wagons into one.

Knowledge is good for business, she once explained to him with the help of Harbend. Arthur liked them both, even though he found Chaijrild to be just a little bit too much of a flirt, but he gave her the rights of youth.

The caravan passed through the entire length of Vimarin. They never saw anything larger than a village, but also very little real wilderness. Almost always farmed land was close by with the main difference from Keen being fewer horses and oxen used as beasts of burden instead.

The dry yellow of late summer gave way to glittering gold and red of autumn. Then the landscape changed again, small groves in the open farmland became forests as they crossed yet another border.

"Camp's silent tonight," Trindai noted.

"It's the trees," Kalvar said.

"Not much in the way of forests back home, unless you count the plantations around Krante."

"Sir?"

"You didn't know? It's all planted. Most forests in Erkateren are as well, but there's a bastards lot more of it here."

Major Terwin shrugged, but Trindai saw the discomfort in his eyes. He sympathized with his officer. Apart from a few missions on the Ming peninsula he had little enough experience with forested terrain himself. A few men under his command, all scouts of course, were familiar with the absence of free sight. They came in handy when rooting out troublemakers, but this was an escort mission and he didn't expect to hunt down reluctant taxpayers or some hothead who'd inherited grand delusions together with a title when a family elder died in one of Keen's client states.

Stupid way of running things. Hereditary rights. Keen made away with the idiocy over seven eightyears earlier.

"Darkness cursed work crossing the mountains," Kalvar said, interrupting Trindai's thoughts.

"Berdaler's squadron will help, and we're hiring more men in Ri Khi."

"We need more than two squadrons, sir?"

"With the political bribe accompanied with a choice set of lies we sent to Ri Nachi, yes," Trindai answered.

"Sir, that was a little more information than I needed."

Trindai growled. "Think like a commander, not like an officer! If I choke on the piss they call wine here you're responsible for seeing this charade safely to Braka and back."

"Right, sir!" Kalvar straightened, but he was smiling. "No one's listening, so spit it all out," Kalvar demanded, "sir," he added almost as an afterthought.

Trindai grinned back and started explaining. He'd give Major Berdaler the same information when they had some time alone.

Maybe Erkateren wasn't less populated than Vimarin, but with fewer farms and more woodlands it filled them with a sense of desolation. It was with some relief they reached the first of the towns along the road. They saw it after reaching a crest from where the road gently sloped downwards to open ground. The forest opened up and in the middle of a wide valley before them a walled town sat hugging a narrow river. A few stone houses rose above two stories wooden buildings that were in majority. The wall itself was more of a wooden stockade than a proper city wall, and Arthur guessed the town only housed a few thousand.

Really nothing more than an over sized village.

As they came closer he saw that people here favored leather and wool rather than the ever-present linen and occasional silk he was used to from Verd.

Their presence caused great stirring here as well, but by now Arthur was used to it, and they needed to draw as much attention as possible or they would have to spend an extra day searching for traders. Now the traders would come looking for them instead.

Passing the gates and entering narrow streets Arthur was first surprised to see them unpaved. Soon enough the ever present smell of manure told him the futility of such an effort. The magical cleanliness of Verd seemed more and more like a distant dream, and he noted the total absence of lampposts. That probably translated into the need of being indoors after dark, especially as the day was overcast. He didn't want to stumble along the streets with only his hands as eyes.

Inside the city walls he got a better view of the people strolling around the streets. Some of them looked old and bent, but he had traveled too much not to recognize the signs of hard work and what it did to the body if health care was lacking. He guessed them to be not much more than sixty, or even less. Hygiene, it had to be the stark contrast in cleanliness compared to Verd that did it. The town was dirty in a way he couldn't have imagined if he hadn't seen, or rather smelled, it for himself.

He decided against strolling through the streets on his own and followed Harbend to an inn after they managed to get their animals stabled. It was built like the road inns they visited while still in Keen. A tavern in the bottom floor, behind stairs leading up to a narrow corridor feeding small rooms on the second floor. Dirtier than he remembered the road inns to be, but after long weeks on the road still a very welcome change having a real room with solid walls and a bed to sleep in.

The woodwork, though, was magnificent. Walls, doors, everything of wood finely crafted, and his hopes for the furniture they were to buy here later soared. Someone must have put a lot of effort in finding wood already shaped as they wanted it, because he saw almost no seams anywhere.

There was no bathhouse, but with the help of Harbend he managed to find a bathtub in the backyard, and as darkness fell they'd all taken turns in it to the great amusement of the stable boys.

"It's beautiful!"

"Now, do you believe me?"

"Of course. I've seen its like in Verd, but do you think there's enough to warrant a caravan?"

"Gods! Arthur, Erkateren is famous for its furniture, famous for most everything that can be made out of wood."

Arthur caressed the smooth, hard surface, adoring the gorgeous sheen and inlaid details. He stooped to examine the other chairs on display.

"Damn! They're almost identical all of them!"

Harbend smiled. "And each a masterpiece."

Arthur looked at the chairs again. They were perfect.

"I don't understand. The skill needed. How can there be so many carpenters here who can do it?"

"We are not in Keen any longer."

Arthur didn't understand and fell silent.

"Many artisans here are magecrafters. Limited in their knowledge, but magecrafters nonetheless," Harbend explained.

"You mean they use magic?"

"They do, but they only know how to work wood. Still, it enables them to remove flaws and change the wood to their needs. I fail to fully understand how, but the best furniture I have ever seen is made here."

Arthur didn't know what to say. Partially he'd been expecting magic, but thus far he'd seen nothing but alternatives to common engineering. Where was the real magic?

"How much do you think they have to sell?" he asked after a while.

"I hope some traders will join the caravan, but there should still be enough to fill eight or ten wagons. Add another twenty wagon's worth of items of somewhat lower quality. More than we can load anyway."

"I can see why you wanted to come here. This is what we should buy for the metal we sell here. You can't imagine what people back on Earth would pay."

"We?"

"Eh, traders from Earth."

"Sounds like an interesting market," Harbend said, a mixture of greed and thoughtfulness marking his voice. "Talking of which, I shall be needed for some interviews."

Arthur smiled and watched Harbend leave.

Harbend nodded at the woman facing him. He had difficulties understanding her. The dialect spoken in Erkateren was very different from the one he was used to from Hasselden and Verd. He rephrased his question.

"Are we agreed that you shall pay the fee for each wagon you want to bring?"

She looked at him and smiled. "Yes. I bring six wagons, yes? And pay for six, yes?"

"Good. We leave tomorrow. From the gates."

She nodded and left.

They were using the town hall for the interviews. A new caravan to Braka qualified as an important event just as he had hoped. Now another five traders with a total of thirty-two new wagons had joined the caravan. Word must have gone ahead, and he only needed to send couriers to the four towns in Erkateren they wouldn't visit.

Harbend grinned. Arriving with a well armed escort had been the magic key. He'd expected more arguments, but in the end the local traders gave in easily enough. They needed another market, and he knew that. Keen, especially a slowly strangled Keen, wasn't enough. Prices were already falling, and furniture, no matter how finely crafted didn't pull ploughs. More importantly, the people here desperately needed iron for the making of those ploughs.

With a bit of luck they might see the train swelled by another seventy wagons when they left Erkateren behind them. Add yet more wagons from Ri Khi joining them. He'd hired couriers for that mission earlier, and now there wasn't much more to do. If he could bring a total of a hundred and twenty wagons to Braka the venture would break even, and after that, with wagons and horses already paid for, each caravan would bring a profit.

Harbend stirred. Someone was knocking on the door. He got to his feet and stumbled in the darkness. When he opened the door he felt the scent of perfume.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Shh, let me in." The voice carried the sensation of alcohol.

"Chaijrild? What are you doing here?"

"Don't be a bore, let me in!"

"No, I shall not do that. You should go to your mother's room and sleep."

"Don't you tell me what to do or not. Let me in, or do you think I'm too ugly for you?"

"Gods!" Harbend was momentarily at a loss for words. "You are very pretty and also very drunk. Now go away and get some sleep."

A stinging sensation on his cheek told him his refusal hadn't been well taken. She muttered something and staggered away in the darkness. He closed his door and returned to bed. It had been a long time since anyone tried to seduce him, not that he minded, but she was the daughter of a trading partner.

Arthur woke to the sound of angry words. He left his bed and walked to his door. When he opened it and looked into the corridor it was empty save Harbend. A very angry Harbend.

"What's going on?" Arthur asked.

"She came to my room last night and now she has bedded Captain Laiden."

"Who did?"

"Young Termend."

"Oh, and now her mother's in a fury?" Arthur didn't like the consequences. An angry partner could stir up tensions later on, especially as this was the very first partner Harbend had signed on. "Why did you allow her in?"

"I... I did not. Told her to get some sleep elsewhere."

"Thank God! Then I can't see the problem. She's old enough to pick a partner among the rest, don't you think?"

"You fail to understand."

"I understand perfectly. She felt spurned and went for second best. So? The only problem would've been if you'd slept with her."

"But... Maybe you are right," Harbend finally grumbled.

Arthur shook his head and reentered his room to get dressed. There was no point in trying to grab any sleep now. Dawn was breaking. They needed to be on the road as early as possible with all the additions to handle. He pulled on his boots and went in search for breakfast.

The wagon train had definitely swelled with the hopeful traders who joined them. By now it looked like a caravan should according to Arthur's childhood imagination. Of course, no camels and very little sand, but still. It took them the better part of the morning to leave Grendevrat behind them and it was time to make use of the men Harbend had hired the day before.

They waved to the couriers.

"Make good speed to Ri Nachi. We shall be waiting for you at the Roadhouse. Four eightdays from now, no more," Harbend shouted.

He watched the riders vanishing on the north bound road while the wagon train continued eastwards.

"You think we'll see many of them?" Arthur asked Harbend as they started catching up with the wagons again.

"Not sure. Dyed silks, toys and instruments usually, but with sea trade cut off they shall have little silk to dye." Nagging worries yelled at him for a moment. "Twenty wagons maybe. An addition." Unable to shrug the unease away he brought his horse to speed.

They were one day behind schedule, which wasn't too bad, but he knew bad luck could have them falling back much more and was eager to leave the Roadhouse before winter hit the mountains. An early snowstorm could force them to turn back and then they'd be stuck at the Roadhouse for the entire winter. That was his greatest fear. One winter without moving and he was sure to lose most of the traders who signed on.

The next eightdays saw them passing through two more of the seven towns in Erkateren. The wagon train swelled at each town and Harbend had to prepare the Roadhouse for the huge amount of people and animals they brought. That meant riding in advance and he invited Arthur to accompany him two days after they crossed Erkateren's eastern border.

They took off in the morning, Arthur, Harbend, six horses and one wagon. Harbend drove. Arthur looked back, watching the wagons behind them until the road took a turn and they were between trees again. He enjoyed the silence, broken only by the creaking of wagon wheels and the muted sound of hoofs hitting dirt beneath them. About to ask Harbend how much time they needed to spend on the road a smattering from above caught his attention. He looked up but didn't see anything. Behind him Harbend halted the wagon.

"Rain. You better get your cloak," Harbend said.

Arthur just sat in his saddle. "But I don't feel any raindrops."

"You will. The leaves are sheltering us. Hurry up!"

Arthur obeyed and climbed into the wagon in search for his chest. He found his cloak and grabbed Harbend's on his way out. They both got into the heavy leather and strung felt hats to their necks. Arthur still didn't feel much of the rain, but then the wind caught up and started shaking the canopy above them, and within moments cold water poured down. Arthur yelled in surprise but Harbend only guffawed in response.

Half a day later, with wet clothes and a cold wind chilling them through whenever they rode out from between sheltering trees, their mood had changed for the worse. It didn't help that Harbend started whining about his relations with the Termend women and the infidelity of the daughter. Not able to believe what he was hearing Arthur eventually couldn't stay silent any longer.

"So, you turned her down and she slept with the captain instead. What's the matter? She's hardly your property. Don't you think I haven't seen you look at anyone who's not a fellow merchant as if they were nothing but servants or someone you could squeeze a good price from?"

"You fail to understand. I would..."

"If you say you'd have paid well I'll bloody smash your face in!" Arthur interrupted.

"I was not thinking anything like it!"

"Oh, no. Probably only something like taking good care of her, or making sure she gets a good life, or something else where the solution is money. Can't you see that not everyone values life in coins?"

Harbend colored. "Do you not value money and the freedom it brings?"

"Hell, no! My money bought me a golden prison for twenty years. I didn't own my money. It owned me, or rather any source of wealth owned me. For the first time I'm deciding what to do with it." Hearing his own words Arthur finally accepted that such understanding had taken him a journey to another world to reach.

"And now you have the resources to do so," Harbend said with a quality of whining to his voice Arthur didn't care for.

"I stopped caring about my so called resources four years before I decided to come here, and I don't bloody plan on allowing them to run my life again."

There was no response. Harbend just gave him a sullen glare and they didn't speak with each other after that.

He didn't understand why Harbend had even breached the subject. Chaijrild was still only a child and Harbend had done right by refusing to share his bed with her. Arthur didn't even want to think about the problems they would've had with her mother if it had become known that the master of the caravan took advantage of his position in that way.

You did right. No bloody reason to start sulking now!

They continued in uncomfortable silence all the afternoon and early evening.

Setting camp turned out being more difficult than they had imagined, mostly because of a hard wind threatening to carry away anything not nailed to the ground. At least the rain had subsided, but Harbend was still miserable, cold and wet. It took several, frustrating failures to build a small fire. If it rained for a few days more finding dry twigs to mix with the tinder he'd brought would become increasingly difficult, but that was a problem yet to come.

He looked at Arthur in sullen silence. Arthur's earlier rebuke still stung, and as he had chosen to remain silent for the entire afternoon neither of the men's moods improved. Being tired and hungry after climbing the narrow track in drizzling rain hadn't helped neither, but Harbend bit back on his irritation while they were still on the road. Now, when they had finally managed to get their camp in order he turned to his companion feeling a childish need for petty revenge.

"So, I understand you got tired of being everyones' property, but it still fails to make sense," Harbend said as if half a day hadn't passed since any of them last spoke.

Arthur gave him a tired look but refrained from answering.

"I fail to understand. You are, what, fifty-five years old but from what you have told me earlier you tired of your fame almost five years ago," Harbend continued. "Then just one day you take off for a journey that may last for years. Do you not feel any responsibility? At your age you should have a woman and children." He suddenly saw raw pain in Arthur's face, but resentment forced the rest of the words into the air. "Do you not care about the family you left behind you in your heartless selfishness?"

Arthur was silent. With a sinking feeling Harbend knew he shouldn't have finished his accusations. Rather than wait for a defensive outburst he vanished into the wood gathering more firewood as an excuse to be gone from their camp. As darkness had fallen so had the wind and in the heavy underbrush beside the track getting a fair amount of dry wood was easy work and he soon had to return to the fireplace.

Arthur was still sitting in the same place and he was crying silently, tear brimmed eyes reflecting the flames. Harbend sat down, sharing the silence and waiting for the explanation he knew would eventually come. He added some sticks to the fire for extra light and warmth and started rummaging through their bags for some food when Arthur suddenly rose.

"I did care for my family, you know," he said and spread his arms as if excusing himself. "Five years ago my wife and son died in an accident. I almost gave up then, but I still had my daughter to care about so I continued with my shows." He took a few steps around the fire before resuming his words. "Much later I got to know a competing newscaster wanted me out and that it hadn't been an accident."

"How do you know?" Harbend asked.

"They thought I would be so caught up in my grief I simply had to quit."

"But how do you know?" Harbend repeated, this time with a feeling of unease.

"They killed my daughter half a year ago."

A coldness like a blanket of ice ran down Harbend's face and he knew all color must have left it. "Gods! How old was she?"

"Ten."

Harbend didn't have any children of his own, but his sister did. He turned to Arthur, a question still unanswered, but Arthur answered him before it could be voiced.

"They sent me pictures from both kills to make sure I understood the message."

"I am sorry," Harbend said suddenly at a loss for ways to express his sympathy. He mentally groped for words with which to wash away his shame, but none came forth. He had duped his friend to reveal a painful secret, no not just duped but forced him into submission. And it had been wrong and ugly to do so.

That night Arthur slept better, even though he wept from time to time. It hurt, but it was like a festering wound opening, and even though he didn't understand it himself he was taking a giant leap towards healing. He dreamed of his dead family. This time, though, the dreams weren't nightmares but memories from a time when they had been laughing together and nothing bad seemed possible.

He woke early, stiff and cold in the morning. As the days grew shorter each morning seemed to be a little colder and a little more damp than the one before. A long day lay ahead of them. It would be a harsh ride with very little to eat, but the prospect of a hot meal, a warm bath, and a soft bed was alluring enough to bring a thin smile to his lips.

Dreaming of his loved ones had soothed him somewhat. It still hurt, would probably always hurt, but at least he admitted he was in pain, and healing took yet another step forward. Maybe coming here was the preparation he needed, more so than Harbend's outburst the night before, maybe not, but with healing pain as a companion he finally allowed himself to journey to another world, an inner one but more exciting than any a space ship could reach.

He checked his horses while Harbend went over their wagon. One wagon and six horses. Arthur was glad it would be over after the day. He hadn't understood how much work the wagons added until now.

The mare he saddled whinnied and he gently stroked her. She'd turned out being just as easy to ride as he'd hoped. He started whistling and was still whistling when he was finished and ready to take to the road again.

Harbend gave him a suspicious look, but Arthur just grinned as he helped his friend. They didn't talk, but the mistrust from the day before was gone, and with rising spirits they started moving.