The Taleweaver

Another circle of wagons. Coming out in the open at least allowed them to gather together during the evenings. Now they camped with their wagons as protection against the ever present wind. During the evenings and early mornings, at least, they looked like a group rather than an infinite line of wagons struggling one by one to go on.

Arthur dismounted and walked into the circle of trampled snow and grass. Almost waist high and very brittle the grass was used instead of firewood.

It was time for his performance in the dark as it had been almost every evening since they started descending down the mountains.

The darkness was what disturbed him most. He didn't remember it being so dark when he sat with groups of tourists around campfires all those years ago. Then those groups hadn't been over three hundred wagons strong of course. Even if they split into thirty circles they were still over thirty humans trying to make room around each cooking fire, and Arthur, in his youth, had seldom led a group larger than ten and never one as large as twenty.

He smiled at Trai beside him. Escha and Gring were there as well. The trio followed him whenever he was about to go tale telling, but he couldn't complain. That was their reason for joining the caravan after all, and by now they had all more than proved their worth by saving lives during the blizzard.

A slight buzzing around his temples he was by now familiar with announced Gring employing her powers.

"So," he said, gazing at the wagons covered with cloth and hides to block out the wind that would otherwise have passed unhindered through the wheels, "shall it be Zeus, Odin or even Robin Hood taking the center of the stage tonight?"

"Such a choice is yours alone, master of wonders from times when honor and glory were still unsullied."

Arthur glanced at Trai. Gring's magic with languages could never fully be preparation enough for such a mode of speech. Damn, the dark skinned man talked that way even when he asked for a cup of water. Arthur wondered how they ever managed to get anything done in Khanati when they spent all that spare time expanding verbally about what they were going to do.

They walked around part of the circle and entered through the narrow opening downwind.

"Still, a suggestion. What kind of tale?" Arthur persisted.

"Whatever comes to your glorious mind. No recollection of yours could possibly be too small or insignificant to be worth listening to."

Arthur digested Trai's words but looked at Escha instead. Trai's follower glowed with pride. Apparently Trai had made a good answer.

"They need no tale. The need is of you," Gring said.

"How so?"

"It's cold for you halfmen out here. They want hope."

Arthur gave her an interested look. "Please elaborate!"

"What you say is less important than what you are. They need the taleweaver, or at least the knowledge that one is traveling among them."

"I take it you want one of my special performances."

"Yes. Otherwise I would not speak to you this way."

Arthur was silent. Again Gring had proved herself to be far more than an over sized monkey who could speak. He would honor her request and once again become Arthur Wallman, the greatest in holo casting the Terran Federation had seen in decades, if not centuries.

He walked into the flickering light of the fire.

That night Arthur once again journeyed into himself, crossed the border between the present and the could have been and led an army through a hostile nation, overcoming impossible odds and human fears, borrowing words from another weaver of tales over a thousand years dead. Alone he filled the night with wonder the way Shakespeare had needed an entire troupe to do. Arthur rode with that army, and glancing over his shoulders he saw in the faces of his loyal men the traders and soldiers of the caravan following him high in hope that he would lead them safely back to England.

That night, even though Arthur was unaware of it, the legend of a new taleweaver started to spread.

"And wing! Wing, I said, not spearhead."

Nakora sighed and rode to catch up with her soldiers. They got it wrong again.

"Wing, young Takarak, means you wait for those further back in the column when they break to form the line, or you shall be alone when you charge."

The soldier, more a boy than an adult shot her an irritated glance. Too young to accept a female commander she knew he still didn't dare to openly challenge her. Until married she was in all effects lord of the Weinak family. That legal status would vanish on her wedding night when the new lord took possession of her body as well as title. At the moment that was a minor problem.

Gods! Even mercenaries from Keen are better trained than we are.

She threw a longing gaze at Captain Laiden's troops as they routed her flanks in the mock battle.

Both sides returned to their starting positions and she had more time than she wanted to mull over her precarious command. A nagging suspicion started to take its toll of her, had for eightdays now. Would her soldiers follow her lead if the disciplined mercenaries from Keen didn't show her their respect as openly as they did?

Maybe she ought to get married after all. That left the awkward question of a suitable husband. Lord Garak? Nakora smiled. Clan lord Garak from Khi would definitely be a suitable choice, but by now she was certain he wasn't Clan lord Garak at all. A younger son perhaps. Lord, though, he was, of one kind or another, and he still held a certain attraction. That thought made her blush slightly, but met with her approval nonetheless. It made her more moral somehow. Her wants, not merely something suitable.

Is that really what I want?

She blushed again.

The day was cold. Not the windy hell they'd encountered in the mountains but a brisk, quiet cold he remembered from childhood. Arthur saw his breath rising in small clouds when he exhaled. Almost like one of those glorious winters from home, but here there wasn't anyone to call if he got lost. This wasn't a cold he could chose for a weeks travel, safe in his knowledge that someone would come to his rescue if an accident happened. Memories of his failure during the blizzard still clung to him and hurt, but as with memories of his family they were no longer raw, and a long talk with Harbend and Gring had eased the worst of his shame.

He sniffed, almost like Gring. A gust of cold wind crawled inside his coat and made him shiver. It played with his hair, seeped into his nostrils and teased him into a sneeze. He looked up just in time to meet Chaijrild's disapproving glare. She was still avoiding Harbend and made a show of seeking Arthur's company as often as possible. He'd even tried to talk with her mother, but that attempt only met with rough laughter. The matron told him in no uncertain terms that if he had any problems with the girl he'd better bring them up with her directly.

"... day here. The ... makes me remember when I was a child," Chaijrild said, breaking his thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I didn't understand it all."

"Beautiful day. ... brings ... back to me."

He realized she had tried to rephrase her earlier sentence.

"One word I can't understand. The, eh, liat?"

She gave him a bewildered look. Then she dismounted and gathered snow in her hands. He pointed at the whiteness around them and she nodded. So, liat was snow. He barely had time to finish the thought before a ball of it caught him full in the face. He shook off the stinging cold.

"You bloody little wench. I'll teach you about snowballing!"

She stared at him, an expression filled with incomprehension spreading over her face, and he realized he'd spoken in English. He dismounted and slowly explained in De Vhatic while at the same time squeezing a ball of snow in his hands. She giggled and ran away shrieking in delight when he threw it at her. Some things were the same on both worlds he mused as he mounted his horse again.

He was about to give her chase when he heard voices calling. Nakora Weinak, the commander of the escort from Ri Khi, was riding towards him at full gallop, Gring running beside her horse, matching its speed without any visible strain. What could be important enough to risk both horse and rider in snow covering anything that could trap them both? He watched them coming closer and blinked away the stinging light of the sun reflected in the snow.

They were between the vanguard and the long column of wagons. A day earlier he'd ridden the entire stretch along the caravan. Close to ten kilometers, an undertaking of a magnitude he could never have guessed that day in late summer when Harbend told him about his planned enterprise.

The escort seemed insufficient to protect the endless line vanishing behind the horizon if you rode at one end of it. He seemed insufficient as well.

His reputation as a taleweaver spread in the caravan, and he had to stay at a campfire each night to tell a tale or two before going to sleep. Still, less than half had been given a chance to hear him, and he somehow understood he needed to give them all an opportunity unless some of them should feel offended. Some would anyway. He'd heard rumors of dissatisfaction concerning some of the traders from Ri Khi.

Gring, Escha and Trai still followed him whenever he went to spin a tale, and even though it had been but once more that he had done what they called a Weave they followed him with dog-like loyalty. Of course he wouldn't be much use without Gring. It was, after all, her magic that allowed him to tell his tales. Arthur wondered what to tell this evening. Even though there was no lack of heroic tales he was still stunted by the need to come up with a new and fresh legend each night.

Once again he blinked away the sunshine from his eyes, and when a cold gust of wind tempted him to open them. Nakora and Gring were both almost there, and he felt the familiar tingling as Gring cast the spell crossing almost all borders set up by languages.

"Why such a hurry?" he called out, both as a question and a greeting.

"Tomorrow night, or the night after, we eat hot food and some may even feel the luxury of a warm bed." Nakora was grinning as she spoke.

Arthur favored her another glance. She was sweating around her temples despite the cold. It must have been a hard ride, but her glittering eyes told him she had enjoyed it. "Have you found a town large enough to host us all?" he asked.

"No, not that large. It will not happen until we reach Belgera at the end of our journey. However, we have found a town, and I guess it shall be a welcome rest for the caravan."

He thought about it. A bed, yes that would be good, but a bathhouse, now that would be fabulous. He wondered if the people here had such luxuries.

"You didn't see any lakes or a river close to the town?" he said, voicing his private thoughts in a question.

Gring gave him a glance. "No, we were too far away to see a river, and a lake would only look like more snow covered grass.

That made sense. He was used to winter, but he'd never ridden through open terrain like this with nothing but snow around him.

"There is something else as well. Gring thinks we saw a dragon pack in the distance," Nakora said.

Arthur shivered. "How bad is that?"

"I would not worry too much. There are large herds of horses on the plains, and gherins. Dragonlings usually hunt easier prey than humans."

"Gherin?"

Nakora pointed across the snow.

What the bloody hell is that? A dinosaur, glittering scales shining even at this distance, and as all other strange lizards they'd caught earlier, six-legged. Huge, easily the size of an elephant. "Dangerous?"

"If you stand in front of it, yes I guess. I have heard they breed them in Braka, but here it means food. Lots of food. Today we hunt."

Arthur was still not entirely convinced. "So you say that there's no danger?"

"I would not go that far. Always keep an eye open. Especially if you are alone."

Not a very comforting thought. "Should we ride in advance and join with the rest then?" Arthur asked.

Nakora gave him an amused look, and looking past her shoulder Arthur saw the rest of the vanguard approaching. He smiled back.

"I guess not."

Trai kicked snow from his feet. Melting it would have been faster, but he seemed to use his gift all day long in the wintry horror surrounding them. Horses and oxen needing easy grazing, starting fires for cooking and heating cold wagons. Sometimes mundane means were better, even if for no other reason than avoiding Escha's anger.

Care, it really was care. Trai knew the results of a backlash from his own experience, but the gift was like a fine wine, and he never got tired of feeling it coursing through his body. Escha, well Escha was always the careful one, never to use any when it was not needed. Unless when bringing a message down hard on those who needed to fear his might, like he had done when jumping them both inside the Roadhouse. It would be a year or more before any battle mages from Rhuin dared sleeping in their own barracks without two of them standing guard inside in addition to those patrolling the walls.

A pity none but Escha mastered the ability to jump safely into a building without guidance from someone on the inside. Well, they didn't know that in Rhuin.

The reason for his fierce pride came up from behind.

"Bad feelings running rampant," Escha said.

Trai searched for listeners but found none. "No lessons tonight then?"

"Afraid not. Tomorrow maybe."

Trai nodded.

"You know, I quite liked the courtly expressions Lord Wallman used the other night," Escha said as if reminded of their tale telling lessons."

"I guess so," Trai admitted sourly. "It's a bastard's work keeping appearances up, though," he continued, thinking about the real reason for his prolonged stay away from home.

"The need is absolute. We'll continue to learn from the tales for as long as Lord Wallman will have us. There's no better teacher than a Weave with kings and courtiers."

Trai grimaced. "I'll start vomiting on my own words soon. I'd hoped for a tale well told before returning home, not a season freezing my butt off in the wilderness becoming one."

Escha laughed and hugged him. "I love you, master of mine, but you need to be seen as nothing but a pleasure seeker."

"I still hate it. Why can't I just take my position among the dukes and be done with it?"

"Master, please," Escha pleaded. "I didn't dig up the sun storm gift. You did. Now you have the powers to reduce an entire city to cinders."

Trai's eyes widened. He rapidly made the calculations in his head. The result disgusted him.

An entire city? Unholy gods, dear Escha, you're wrong, my love. I could wipe all of Ira from living memory. "I'd never..."

"I know that, and you know that. Our neighbors don't. Be patient. Ten years or less and the gift of reduction will be common enough knowledge to release you from the needs of this charade."

Trai waited for the patient lecturing to continue. It was schooling of another kind, and somewhere deep inside he admitted he wasn't exactly a master of politics.

"Enough Khars must learn how to disable the casting of sun storms. That disgusting gift should never have been rediscovered in the first place. Please play the petty lordling and keep everyone in the belief that the only glowing suns you're interested in are the jewels on your costumes."

"I still don't like being laughed at behind my back," Trai sulked.

"You'd better learn to savor that feeling. We don't want Dragonwrath all over again. Once that gift is used..." Escha shuddered. "More could master it. I don't doubt for a moment Khars from Rhuin could reduce Khanati to ashes should the wars ever escalate to the point where we no longer restrain our use of the gift in battle to insignificant battle mages." Escha's voice went softer. "At least we're in this together."

"At least that, my love," Trai murmured.

"And Lord Wallman's tales are well worth sharing," Escha added.

"They are," Trai agreed, "and he kept our hopes up," he said, remembering how winter had closed its hand around their hearts after claiming the lives of the unlucky and careless. He would play his part, and who knew, maybe one day he would master the art of tale telling himself -- a taleweaver he would never be.

The sound of horses closing in on them made him let go of Escha. Time again to prove he was learning well. Trai turned and bowed low enough for his sleeves to sweep the ground.

"What brings you here Lord Captain. I'm honored by your arrival on such a kingly steed, a magnificent beast well befitting a lady of your station."

Captain Weinak bowed ironically in her saddle. "Just patrolling, Lord Achnai."

She passed him with her men in tow. He suspected most didn't understand the Veric he had used, but some sneered at him nonetheless.

The meeting was a shambles, but at least Arthur got to know he had the two mages to thank for more than he'd realized. A few angry exchanged outbursts from the men assembled were enough for him to realize that without them they would have buried even more people after the blizzard in the mountains. Trai had apparently almost spent himself utterly by warming those rescued before cold blood from arms and legs could stream to the center of their bodies and kill them after they were brought back to camp. Over a dozen lives were saved that way.

The meeting, though, was still a shambles.

They stood in the open, a large ground of stamped snow ringed by wagons to provide shelter from the wind. Although the shouting had gone on for some time now people still arrived to take part in it. They wore more sensible clothes now than they had when departing from the Roadhouse. Heavy cloaks and coats, some furs and thick leather jackets. Almost all were gloved and most of them also covered their heads in one way or another. The mages from Khanati were the only ones walking around in silks only, but Arthur knew they donned heavier clothes when out of eyesight. Some stupid display of appearance and arrogance, but that was not his business.

One greybeard, in his early fifties as far as Arthur could measure, walked to the center to get attention.

"I say we turn around and end this stupid mission." His bearded face was immediately surrounded by a cloud of his breath, settling to add some more icy crystals to his beard and hair. "I say we return home before more of us die."

The rumors of dissatisfaction were true after all, Arthur registered with a sigh.

"And I say we don't." The retort came from Arthur's right, and he turned to see who had spoken.

"Why not?" This time from his left. He gave up finding out who said what and concentrated on trying to understand in what direction the arguments would eventually turn.

"No one promised us it was going to be easy. No one." It was the same voice Arthur had tried to find earlier, and this time a woman stepped out in the circle to be seen. "The mighty Khars are here to help us, and with their help this is as easy as it's ever going to be."

"Their help? Dandies from Khanati both of them."

"What about it? My wife would be dead if Khar Escha had not jumped her to Ri Nachi." The voice was filled with emotions, most spelling gratitude and awe.

"Khar Escha! Bah! As long as fagot Achnai finds his pleasure with this journey he shall order his little boy slave to do anything that will buy our sympathy."

"You ungrateful son of a whore! That slave is the only reason you are able to stand here today and voice your filth."

Arthur searched for his companions. He was worried Trai might do something horrible, and one question needed an answer. Slave? Could that really be true? Across the circle Escha met his eyes, but instead of displaying any rage he patted his temples with both hands and looked skywards with outstretched arms in a show of great melodrama Arthur had come to recognize as a part of gestures usual to the men from Khanati. It still helped Arthur to know the insults meant less than nothing to them. But, slaves? The concept was abhorrent to Arthur, and he was surprised all the same he hadn't considered the possibility. After all, slavery hadn't been abolished on Earth since after his ancestors had advanced far beyond the people here.

A roar caught his attention.

"Go home coward! Go home but go alone and don't shame the rest of us!"

"You dare to call me coward? You, a filthy bitch who fail to keep silent among men?"

"Yes, I do. I'm not afraid as your excuse for wives are. I'm proud of my husband, and he can be proud of me. We don't use marriage as a substitute for slavery in Erkateren!"

"Dirty whore! Do not call my wife a slave! She is a proper woman, not a loudmouthed piece of filth like you!"

Arthur walked away in disgust. They were not making any progress, and the insults had reached a level where he didn't even want to listen to them any longer. There wasn't a semblance of interest in talking about the matter at hand now, and with so many people armed here he didn't want to witness any fights arising if they decided insults weren't enough. They were all primitive. Primitive in their minds rather than lacking technology.

Damn them all! Damn you to whatever hell you believed in.

He angrily broke snow under his feet as he tried to find anyone who made sense, but the only member of the caravan he truly trusted to behave like a civilized human walked at his side and was an ape looking like a monster considering herself the only human present. At the moment he was bound to agree.

Arthur looked up from the fire as Harbend arrived. The man looked grimly satisfied. At least something good must have come out of the meeting earlier.

"And?" Arthur asked before Harbend had a chance to sit down.

"We continue tomorrow. We are going to visit the town the scouts found."

Arthur slowly sighed with relief. So they'd managed to come to a constructive conclusion after all.

"And all are happy?" he asked more as a joke than anything else.

"Of course not, but everyone continuing has promised to work for the same goal."

"Then I guess some are returning."

"No, no one shall return. We came to an agreement on that as well. A bit costly, but we decided we could not have anyone undermining the positions of the remainders."

Arthur nodded. Some politicking he could understand.

"Then I guess the ones forced to continue will make little noise from now on?"

Harbend shrugged uncomfortably rather than replying, and Arthur gave him a quizzical glance. When Harbend refused to answer the silent question Arthur frowned and voiced it. "And? How are you going to keep them from making trouble in the future?"

"It has been taken care of." Harbend rose and left the dancing circle of light. Arthur started to get to his feet but changed his mind and sat down again. He looked at Gring, but she said nothing. They sat in silence until long wails in the distance forced Arthur to his feet. The cries were almost inhuman, almost. He made for the darkness but a heavy hand on his shoulder forced him to turn.

"Sit!" Gring hissed.

"But, don't you hear?"

"Yes, I hear. Better than you do. Three of your kind and six dragonlings."

"But what's happening?" Arthur tried to pry himself free, but Gring's grip was too strong.

"Master Garak promised you that the problems had been taken care of. For an oath breaker he is strangely honorable."

Somehow Arthur knew what was going on, but his mind denied it, and he refused to believe it could happen, refused to believe it was happening right now, but from the darkness the wails of fear, pain and desperation continued until they subsided into a silence possibly even more ghastly.

Late in the morning the caravan slowly resumed its snaking trail across the plains. Traders and drivers were silent; subdued but also looking ahead with eyes that shone with a new firmness.

Arthur could see the resolve they had gained, and it made him sick. Only those few who had joined them early on seemed to share his sentiment, but they were too few and too frightened to voice their thoughts about the justice meted out the night before.

He spent as much time as he could with the vanguard, especially when the escort under Captain Laiden had the duty. Arthur knew he was trying to avoid Harbend as much as possible.

Of the soldiers, those hired in Verd and the smaller contingent arriving together with Captain Weinak's men, hardened as they might be, talked little about the horrid executions. In difference from the more heavily armed soldiers making out the majority of Nakora's command they boasted nothing about them at all.

They rode in silence, slowly ascending and Arthur could see apprehension in faces that had been grave and solemn, and after a while he also started to share their enthusiasm for whatever they expected to see on the other side of the summit. They reached the crest and for the first time Arthur could see for himself where they were heading. Far, far away a town spread out like a dark rug on the snow. It was surrounded by walls, wooden most probably. The town was closer to the mountains than they were and he guessed the mountainsides were covered by trees here as well. The palisade looked small and insignificant, but so did everything watched from a distance out here. He guessed it would tower above them when they came close, but from here it promised heat, blessed heat, and shelter from the wind.

Not all of them would be allowed inside of course. At least not at the same time, but he hoped the people living there would want to make some money and sell them food. If they were lucky there might even be a tavern or two somewhere inside.

He rubbed his beard with the back of his hand. Short enough to be coarse through the leather of his glove, it was still a beard; the first he had sported for over thirty years, unkempt, dirty and rough, and he wondered when the stubble had found time to grow so long. His wife would never have agreed to his appearance, but on days like these anything covering his face was protection much needed.

It took them the better part of afternoon to get there, and daylight was giving way to dusk before he could get a close look. During the day anticipation grew in the caravan. It was almost tangible, a feeling of increased safety. It was as if they all forgot what had happened less than a day earlier, and Arthur slowly accepted that some things were very different on Otherworld.

They rode closer, snow creaking under the hooves, and as he had guessed the stockade grew to dominate his view when they came close. A closed wooden gate, flanked by two watchtowers, was the only entry point he could see. This close he could see that there was indeed a narrow river flowing through the town. They would have fresh water after all, and maybe, just maybe hot baths. He would pay a lot for a tub with steaming water even if they had no oils or aromatic herbs.

When they were almost at the gates they opened and riders rode out to flank the wagon train. Startled Arthur wondered about the reception, but as he looked backwards he could see that not all of the caravan had made it to the crest where he'd first seen the town. The seemingly endless line of wagons, however familiar to him, with its armed escort was a threat to anyone not expecting the sight.

Arthur started searching for Gring but couldn't find her. He wondered if the people here spoke any language they could understand. Then Captain Weinak suddenly was beside him.

"I talk with ... to ... caravan," she said to him in De Vhatic, and without bothering to make certain he had understood she moved forward and addressed someone he assumed she had identified as being in charge. They spoke for a while in a language that had to be Khi, but apart from a few words Harbend had translated for him, Arthur was too unfamiliar with the language to be certain.

After some time Harbend joined them, and from his expression when he joined the conversation Arthur could see that if they did indeed speak Khi, it must be in a dialect very difficult for Harbend to understand.

Arthur gave up any pretense of being useful and withdrew to the rest of the escort where they stood as ready to either respond to an attack or enjoy themselves if they were finally allowed on the inside of the stockade. In the end they were let in, and while Harbend and Nakora haggled about the terms with the man Nakora had addressed earlier Arthur rode in search for an inn.

The streets were not paved at all, but sidewalks of wood allowed people to walk along the streets without getting too muddy. The streets themselves were a dirty, smelly mix of manure, mud and straw, and only the cold kept them from being too soft for the wagons.

He sniffed. The cold probably kept the worst of the smell away as well.

Arthur watched people milling around the streets stopping as they passed by, and for the second time in a short while he was reminded of just how large the caravan was. Even though only a small portion of them had been let in almost a hundred traders, guards and servants spread out in the town with wagons and horses already taking up more space at the gate than it was built to handle.

It was clear most of them would never be allowed in at the same time, and for a while a town would grow up outside the gates.

Almost like the market outside of Verd, Arthur remembered.

He saw a sign possibly depicting food and decided to take his chances. It wasn't as if he was doing anything dangerous anyway. Two traders and Captain Laiden followed him with several soldiers trailing them. Arthur dismounted and tethered his horse to a wooden rail. The entire town made him feel like visiting a holiday hub on the American plains, one dedicated to an earlier era of exploration, but the houses here were smaller, and some were clad in large mosaics of hides as additional protection from the wind, something he'd never seen before.

Arthur entered the building and came into a narrow, short corridor ending at yet another door. It made sense. He looked over his shoulder.

"Close door. I open door second," he said in De Vhatic.

He waited for the door to close, opened the inner one and crossed the threshold. A large room, sparsely lit by torches and open fires, already half full with men of all ages busy talking with each other or eating. Maybe not an inn, but definitely a tavern of some kind. It wouldn't be too long before Harbend found his way here, or at least someone from Ri Khi who could translate their needs for the night. Until then Arthur planned to stay indoors and get something to eat and drink.

"This tavern high quality? We stay standard unit evening and trade dinner?" he asked Trindai.

The captain nodded and sat down at a table, and as Arthur did the same they were joined by the two traders. Pointing at the other guests and his stomach and mouth Arthur managed to order something. It would be a surprise, but then anything would've been, even if he'd been able to speak their language.

Soon steaming mugs were placed on their table and Arthur tried to get a better look at his surroundings. He was sitting on a bench, resting his feet on earthen floor and with a mug of what he hoped was heated wine in his hands. It smelled strongly of alcohol anyway. He caressed the mug and let the heat seep through his fingers. It didn't matter what it was as long as it was hot enough to banish the ever-present cold. Arthur tried a mouthful. If it was wine it was of a kind he'd never drunk before. There was a salty tinge to it that wasn't unpleasant. Altogether it tasted somewhat like a consommé mixed with strong liquor. Not bad. Not bad at all. He emptied the mug and belched. One more of these and he'd feel life returning.

Hides covered part of the walls, or more probably, window slits to keep winter outside. Several fireplaces lined the center of the rectangular room, kettles hanging from hooks over the flames, and Arthur could see the fires were built on stone with what had to be ovens in the middle of each. As if to confirm his assumption a heavyset man grabbed a long shafted baking peel hanging on a wall and fished out a loaf of bread, placed it on a nearby table and put a large piece of kneaded dough on the spade before inserting it into the oven.

Arthur looked up as Trindai returned with a tray full of mugs and small bowls.

"Food and drink. Now we ... !"

Arthur didn't need understanding it all. The happy grin spreading over Trindai's weatherbeaten face was explanation enough, and the four of them were soon busy eating and drinking, a joy needing no spoken words.

The bread was excellent, and the horseflesh, well at least it was better seasoned than the animals brought down by the escort. Hunting horse and six legged lizards, now that was another difference from Earth.

"Nakora, are you done with your troops yet?"

She turned before answering. "Almost done. Wait for me at the gates."

Harbend did so. He looked her over again as she swaggered away in the direction of one of her officers, hips moving alluringly with each step. She really was a fine looking woman, even when covered in fur hiding most of her features.

Harbend looked forward to getting indoors, as Arthur surely must have done by now. Gods! Sometimes it would be good to share the responsibility, but then Harbend's future depended on his being able to see the caravan becoming prosperous. The shocking numbers of wagons coming from Ri Khi told him more than his personal future depended on the success of the caravan. The diminishing trade with Keen must have struck harder than he'd realized. It was bad enough for Erkateren, but Keen was to a larger extent a pass through market for wares produced in Ri Khi as well as goods imported, and so the blockade hurt them twice as hard.

They would succeed. They had to. No matter the cost.

Somewhere deep inside him Harbend accepted he was trying to avoid the memory of the executions he'd allowed himself to order. The years in Keen must have made him soft. That thought brought a picture of Arthur to his mind. In ways he was weak, maybe even weaker than those in Keen. But weakness was not the right word. Arthur could be harsh when he needed to, and only an idiot would call Keen weak. They just handled things differently there.

Nakora returned and with her presence Harbend's gloomy thoughts gave way.

"I have ordered them to set camp outside the gates and leave a wide path free," she said with a toothy smile unexpectedly making Harbend's stomach jolt.

"You do know we shall be staying here for some days?" he asked.

"Yes. The town is large enough for some of us to trade here. A market?"

Harbend agreed. A market would be good for their reputation.

"Some of us will return," Nakora continued.

Harbend halted, turning towards her as he broke stride. "I know, and I believe it is good. People back home need to know they can trade over the mountains, and we shall fail to be back until summer. I hope smaller caravans will be on their way by then." She wasn't only very pleasant to watch, but there was a perceptive mind there as well.

"Gods! If he could have waited two more days!" Nakora grimaced as they passed through the gates.

Harbend didn't need an explanation. Two more days and three traders would still be alive. If the troublemakers had just waited two more days he wouldn't have been forced to order the grizzly executions. They could have turned back with the traders who would return home. He swore silently and his black thoughts slowly returned.

They walked in silence until they reached a building with several saddled horses tethered close by. Grooms were stabling them one by one.

"Ours?" Harbend asked.

"Ours," Nakora confirmed. "From Erkateren," she added. "This place should be as good as any other. Hungry?"

Harbend smiled. "Yes, very."

They entered.

Just as Nakora had guessed the camp quickly became a market. Harbend was strolling around, listening to traders and townspeople haggling, buying and selling. He walked around a wagon and nodded to a pair of traders from Ri Khi.

"... see the pelts? The size of those scales?"

"Cannot dye them, but the Khraga in Ri Kordari will pay a fortune anyway."

"They should. Not like the lizards are commonplace in our woods."

Harbend smiled and continued. Affairs were good with all parties firmly believing they received a bargain. He stopped just within earshot of a married couple from the town and slowly followed them when they left a carpenter.

"I don't care. That good for nothing sister of yours can stay in her tent. I want a civilized home."

"Silent, dear. You embarrass us."

"I'll talk as loudly as I want. Buy another pair of chairs! That should pay for bows as well as pelts. Maliander bought a cupboard and a bed, and they're our neighbors! I won't have it!"

The man sighed, but Harbend could see that he was defeated. Grinning widely Harbend made his way to another part of the market. Yes, affairs were progressing well.

Harbend managed to organize a meeting with the self styled king who in reality handled the duties of a mayor. With a multitude of luxuries entering the town in exchange for hides, furs, heavy winter's clothes and a large amount of bows and arrows it was a very satisfied king he met, and they broke the meeting with mutual promises of friendship and future trade.

An eightday passed before it was time to resume their journey. It took a full day to break camp, and when the caravan finally headed east thirty wagons took the trail back again escorted by a small group of Nakora's soldiers.

Two days later Harbend found time and resolve to talk with Arthur about the executions. It was clear he'd avoided the subject, and Harbend wasn't happy about them growing apart because of something that had to be done.

Early in the morning he saddled a horse and rode in search of his friend. The cold had changed and become drier and the perpetual winds were not as harsh as earlier. It was almost pleasant to ride as long as he didn't bring his horse to a gallop. He continued, always keeping the wagons to his right until he finally found Arthur.

"I think we need to talk," Harbend said after they had exchanged greetings.

Arthur looked back. "About what?"

"I need to know if you understand what happened that night before we came to the town."

"I know. Captain Laiden told me, or rather explained it to me. I heard perfectly well for myself what was happening, and the remains told me what I hadn't guessed already."

"It had to be done, you know."

Arthur didn't answer, and the steaming clouds of breath between them soon became a barrier that had to be torn down.

"I did not like it, but it was necessary," Harbend tried again.

"I don't care if it was necessary. It was inhuman and barbaric. Nothing you say can make me accept it. Understand, yes, accept, never."

"But you do understand?"

"Yes, and that shames me. Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to find a place where I can think this over in private. I'm not angry with you. Ah, no. That's a lie. I am, but I understand that this is what you are, or rather what this world is, and I need some time."

With those words Arthur rode ahead along the column. Harbend watched him join a patrol heading for the vanguard. Gring ran with them.

Harbend saw the need to leave Arthur with his thoughts. Maybe it was better this way. Arthur had always come around in the end. Harbend rode back. He wanted something to drink. Cider perhaps. Well, that meant paying Lianin a visit, and there was worse company to have.

Getting there didn't take much time, and he could see her wagon from a distance. It had become a tavern on wheels of sorts, and there was always a small group of customers trailing alongside.

The company did indeed turn out well enough and Harbend was still leading his horse along her wagon half a day later when she sought his attention.

"Look, riders!" she called and pointed.

Harbend followed Lianin's fingers with his eyes. There were several riders out there. Men or women, he didn't know, but he assumed they were men.

"They are coming here. I wonder what they want," he asked, more to himself than to Lianin in her wagon.

"I don't know. Maybe they're just curious."

"Wait here! I shall ride ahead and ask Nakora. She should be making her men ready to relieve the vanguard by now." He didn't wait for Lianin's answer but mounted instead. He forced the horse into a slow gallop, passing by the wagon train to his right.

Hopefully the riders, still approaching, were just curious, but Harbend wanted to be certain. He had almost caught up with Nakora when he saw Trindai coming back with his men. Nakora rode to meet him, and whatever decision they made they did so without earshot of Harbend.

The way Nakora raced back along the column with her men startled Harbend. They passed him without so much as a greeting, and shortly ahead of him he could see Trindai deploy his own troops. Harbend's feelings sunk.

"Lord Garak, You should take cover." Captain Laiden's voice.

"Why? What if they just want to talk?"

"No talking, M'lord. Look!"

There were hundreds of them, and even to Harbend it was clear they were charging. How could they have come so close so fast? Human predators, dangerous in ways dragonlings this side of Keen's coast would never be.

"Stay behind your wagons! Regroup on my order!"

Harbend saw Trindai concentrating on measuring the distance to the charging riders.

"Ready! Aim! Loose!"

A small swarm of quarrels met arrows speeding in the other direction. Most of the arrows stuck harmlessly in the wagons but as far as Harbend could see almost all quarrels felled a horseman. Then the riders were through the line of wagons.

"Regroup!" The soldiers rolled under the wagons and came up on the other side. "Reload! Aim! Loose!"

Another swarm of quarrels met the riders as they were charging back. Then the endless snow was suddenly replaced by a roaring wall of flame and only burning remains of horses and men emerged through it.

That must be Trai's work.

Muted screams echoed from further back along the caravan. Not all of them had been as lucky.

He rose from his cover between the wheels and followed the trail of wagons with his eyes. Sharp lances of fire and lightning in the distance told him where the battle mages had taken a stand and long before he'd made his mind up on how they could survive the onslaught most of the escort where already on their horses racing in support of the beleaguered wagons. Hopefully they'd get there in time to make a difference.

Still watching the riders he heard someone moaning close to him. A woman. Not all of the arrows had missed their targets. She held her hands to her throat clutching a long arrow. He doubted if she'd live, but decency if nothing else forced him to try comforting her. He sat with her head in his lap, giving her empty lies of hope until she died. Afterwards he rose, weary beyond reason.

In the distance he saw Trindai riding towards him. The captain was flanked by soldiers, some of them obviously wounded. Harbend stood beside the wagon where he was easier seen and waved to the riders. He remained standing there until they were within speaking distance never even bothering to cover himself against the biting cold.

"Captain, what news?" he called.

"M'lord! Those who didn't flee are dead or dying. We lost a few as well, but it could've been worse."

"How many?" Harbend demanded.

"Five dead and ten wounded, M'lord, two of whom we don't know if they can be helped by our magehealers."

Harbend swore and pointed behind him. "Make that six dead."

Trindai bowed his head in respect. "Still, could've been worse," he said silently.

"You are right, I guess," Harbend said tiredly. "Where is Arthur? I thought he was riding with you in the vanguard."

"He was, M'lord, but chose to stay behind when we rode back to change."

Harbend made a mental calculation. That must have been well before the attack. Arthur was alone somewhere ahead of them waiting for Nakora's troops.

As if reading his thoughts Trindai spoke again. "The Khraga's with him, M'lord, and the girl, Chaijrild."

Of course, Gring would accompany Arthur, but the girl. That was unwise. "Chaijrild?"

"Yes, we met her on our way back here."

The little idiot! Riding away alone like that. Gods! Some people just never learned.

"Captain, send out a patrol to tell Arthur what has happened." Harbend looked away. "No, bring them back instead. They are safer here."

"Yes, M'lord. Will do."