The Taleweaver

Arthur gazed at the road from atop his horse. It had taken a day or two to get used to riding again, and he ached in places he didn't remember had muscles.

There was a smell of travel. The distinct odor of sweat, horse and earth, even though none of the last could be found on the road. That was as meticulously clean as the streets in Verd. As if it was nothing but an extension to those streets. At close to twenty meters wide it looked strangely deserted as they slowly added kilometer after kilometer to the days travel. The road looked more out of place here. A glittering white line contrasting with everything as it cut through farmlands and fields with grazing horses and cattle.

By now Arthur understood why they used lamps as a way to measure shorter distances here. The lampposts were still lining the road making traveling in the evening a pleasant experience.

Arthur recognized the uniform ahead of him and rode to catch up with the escort captain.

"Captain Laiden."

"M'lord?"

Arthur chose not to visibly notice the stiff use of a title he didn't have. It was, he guessed, just Trindai Laiden's way of speaking.

"I wonder ... road good quality many... ah, standard unit time?" Arthur hoped the captain would be able to understand the question.

Trindai looked back, and Arthur could see him trying to make out the meaning of the words.

"Four days, M'lord."

That answered the question, but if Arthur wanted to expand on the conversation he needed Harbend. Sighing Arthur gave up the attempt to socialize and fell back to the wagon he shared with Harbend. It would be a long journey if he didn't learn some more De Vhatic. Long in a way he'd need time to accept, time suddenly available only to idle away. A far cry from his crammed schedule where each minute was a resource to be used for the benefit of Arthur Wallman in his role as an industry but all too seldom for himself. Now all he could do was to sit in his saddle and mentally try to scratch the itch of inactivity.

Been scratching it since I met Harbend, he admitted.

He remembered the first of the meetings with Harbend when the caravan became a possibility. He recalled the flowers drooping lower to the table as the evening proceeded while his trust in the man Harbend Garak rose. Of course he didn't trust the businessman Harbend Garak, but then he never trusted any businessman implicitly.

Still, Harbend, even when lying had conferred truth and a trust that reached to Arthur.

It had, Arthur mused as he rode on, been the starting moment of a growing friendship.

A few days later Harbend watched as Arthur rode back along the road.

You know how to handle a horse, but you've never fought from horseback.

It was all too clear Arthur came from a very different world were such skills weren't much in demand. Harbend wistfully wondered what such a place would be like.

For ten years now he'd been a trader and a traveler. Had seen great Rhuin with their black skinned, proud people, taken ship to ancient Kenlad. Even had a short glimpse of powerful Khanati before trading his way back west and then north, through the petty states west of Kenlad and then Ira, where magic was as mundane as any other craft. Followed the old caravan route to Kastari and settled there for a season.

He'd enjoyed the sight of the great beasts they tamed there, but trade was why he traveled, and apart from the busy trade around the great iron square in the capital where metals magically arrived from far away Braka they didn't show much interest in his goods.

He rode his horses through Chach, declining Chach with their knightly ideals confronting an ever changing world inevitably breaking over their borders causing outbursts of civil war that had come and gone for almost two hundred years. There had been an uneasy peace when he bought passage across the Narrow Sea.

He journeyed through the southern De Vhatic states paying only token obedience to the capital of Keen and then he entered the main network of roads along which Keen ruled supreme.

Brought up in a nation part island and part mainland colonies he settled down in Hasselden, the southernmost port in Keen. So many years ago.

He had, Harbend realized glumly, stayed in one place for far too long, and then sudden elation soared through him. He was on the road again.

He shot Arthur another glance. They were both saddle sore during the first few days, but Arthur hid his grimaces almost as fast as Harbend did, and now none of them rode with any visible discomfort.

Harbend felt his horse move under him. She was tiring. He dismounted and climbed the reserve a groom had already made ready for him.

Close to Roadbreak now.

The main road ended there at one end of the small town and on the other side lay the former duchy of Vimarin. He needed to talk with Arthur about it.

"Friend, over here," he called.

Arthur rode closer and used the pause to change horses himself. "Yes?"

"Over there is Roadbreak."

"Doesn't it have a name in De Vhatic?" Arthur asked nonplussed.

Harbend thought for a moment. "Yes, yes, I guess so, but it is translated into Khi as well. Known for what it is rather than its name." He shrugged. "Anyway, you can see the telegraph from here." Harbend pointed to the black and yellow squares clearly seen even from this distance.

Arthur squinted to see better. "I should have brought a pair of binoculars," he complained.

"Binoculars?"

"Eh, the equipment you use to read the telegraphs with, but portable."

"I have one." Harbend dismounted and walked to his remount. The groom had only begun to remove the harness and it was still saddled. Harbend opened a pocket on the saddlebags and returned with a pair of field glasses.

"Cost me a fortune," he said as he gave them to Arthur.

Arthur put them to his eyes and looked in the direction Harbend pointed. "Ah, I see them now. Your eyes are better than mine."

Harbend shook his head. That was an impossibility. A man had to be half blind if he didn't see the telegraph from this distance. It was easy to see beside... He mentally apologized to Arthur. A long line of brightly yellow trees grew behind the telegraph.

"You see it now?"

"Yes, even without the glasses. The apple trees fooled me, but now when I know where it is I can almost see the pattern with my bare eyes."

"How do you see they are apple trees?" Harbend was genuinely shocked.

"That pale yellow just has to be summer fruit."

Harbend was still shocked.

"Or, it could be the wind blowing from that direction and the entire road stinks of cider. They've got a brewery over there." Arthur gave Harbend a friendly clap on his shoulder and grinned.

Harbend frowned. Then he caught the faint scent of sweet apples. He mounted, grinning back at Arthur.

"Anyway," he said, "the town marks the end of the roads you are used to. From there on the roads are battered by weather and use and in poor condition. No more well kept road inns each half a day. We shall need to tie up our cargo and I will buy more horses and wagons." He pointed eastward and put his horse in motion, cold saddle creaking under him. "That is the last proper breeding ground this side of the mountains and we shall have to buy grain and other food as well."

Arthur nodded. "Want me to talk with the escort captain?"

"Please do. I have a shopping list to write."

Roadbreak turned out to be a dirty, smelly but rather lively place. Smaller than Arthur expected a town to be. Stone buildings dominated the center. A wall circled them and from the gates, like two long arms, rows of one and two stories wooden houses stretched outwards along the road running through the town.

With townspeople, farmers and several soldiers in yellow and green milling around Arthur almost missed the organized elegance of Verd. A feeling of unease clung to the town like rain in autumn though, and he noted almost all of the soldiers were dressed like those outside the space port. Inquisition troops. It did make sense in an uncomfortable way.

Here he came to a border town and if magic was banned in Keen then that implied it wasn't banned somewhere else. Now he stared at such a thin line between Keen and a potential somewhere else.

The sun was setting when they reached the town and Harbend hurried to make sure they all got rooms in the inns. Arthur wondered why everyone was in such a hurry, but after dusk, when the lamplights he'd expected didn't come on apart from a few blocks surrounding the road inn supporting the telegraph on its roof, he understood. The streets were dark. Had it not been for the moon he'd have been hard pressed to see where he put his feet. He never strayed from the main street and after a short while climbed the stairs to the porch outside the inn where he was to spend the night.

The escort captain sat draped over a chair staring into the darkness. They exchanged a few polite words of greetings.

Arthur picked a chair for himself at the other side of the front doors. Sitting down weariness crept up his legs. A long day, riding and walking, riding and walking. He snorted at himself. It had been a long eightday. There it was.

I'm already starting to think in eightdays rather than weeks, and each day is longer as well. Twenty five hours and thirty six minutes to be exact. Three hundred and sixty of those to a year. A bit more to be exact.

Every eight years they had to add an extra day. He assumed that was one possible reason they were so fond of the number eight.

Stretching his legs he bent his neck to get rid of the stiffness. Almost twenty years since he demanded this much of his body.

But I haven't forgotten, and that made him feel at least a little bit proud of himself. Untrained still, but weeks on the move would change that. He'd forced himself on Harbend and didn't want to be the one who delayed the caravan. That there wouldn't ever have been one without his silver and gold didn't matter.

Stars glimmered above him. One of them was new, man made, but he'd never cared to learn which one was Theta 47. He probably ought to learn. As long as he didn't travel too far east it should always point approximately to the south, placed in geostationary orbit around the equator as it was.

Settling back in his chair, he stayed for a while, allowing the day's travel to drain out of him. It wasn't until he started to feel stiff from the cold that he rose and stumbled in through the doorway. He entered almost at the foot of the stairs to the second floor but chose the narrow corridor beside them and came into the tavern.

The room was smaller than he had suspected, with only six tables and three or four chairs around each of them. He saw Harbend at one and sat down beside him. The merchant had almost finished his meal and didn't seem to be in a mood for talking, so Arthur waved for the innkeeper, pointed at Harbend's bowl and ordered the same. When the food finally arrived Harbend had already left, and Arthur ate his evening meal in silence.

Harbend growled. They'd lost a full day in Roadbreak and when the horses finally arrived they were fewer than he'd hoped for. Now he was left with ten new wagons and only twenty new horses. He'd need another twenty, but those couldn't be brought in before another two days had passed, and that was time he didn't have.

He'd be forced to take his chances and buy horses as they passed farms, but he didn't dare to stay much longer. He was an unknown foreigner here, much more so than in Verd, and if this town was anything like Hasselden then the ever present Inquisition was probably as unpopular. Sooner or later either someone from the local population or a soldier would take out the irritation on the easiest target available, and Harbend didn't plan to be anywhere near when that happened.

He was about to leave the corral when a young woman arrived with five horses and a couple of mules.

"Hi, heard you needed beasts," she called.

He looked her over. Long, brown hair hidden under a soft felt hat, freckled, suntanned face. Somewhere in her early twenties. She wore a leather jacket open in the front, so he could see that both shirt and trousers were made of the same rough linen, probably even from the same bale.

Well formed.

She'd carry children without much damage, probably already had a couple. They bred early out here.

"Yes, that is correct. I could do with the mules as well," he said when she came closer. He'd been wrong. She probably was in her late teens.

"You're setting up a caravan?" Her accent was oddly unfamiliar, but they were as far from Keen proper as was possible.

"I am. That should be rather obvious. How so?"

She looked at him and smiled. "Care for company?"

"Merchant?"

"I'm not, and neither is my mother, but she wants to join anyway. We could help you get more horses along the way. We know the farms."

Harbend recognized when he was being mildly blackmailed, but he didn't care. Each addition to the caravan was good for him, and if they could get him horses more easily then that was a bonus.

"You shall be welcome, but there is a fee."

"You handle that with Mother. I'm just to leave the horses here. Got to pack, you see." With that she left the animals to one of his grooms and rode off.

Mother turned out to be a woman not much older than himself, clad in almost identical clothes as her daughter. The owner of the brewery and wanted to know if she could get better prices for her wares elsewhere. Harbend soon lowered her expectations concerning the cider, but the brandy had aged well and would fetch a handsome revenue as close as Erkateren, and they were soon haggling over the horses and the admittance fee Harbend demanded.

Sitting in the tavern they both looked up when Arthur entered. Harbend waved him to the table.

"Arthur, meet Lianin, our first partner."

Arthur bowed and took a chair for himself.

"You make... me honored. What wares do you have for display?" Arthur said in De Vhatic.

Harbend translated her answer and explained further.

"She shall bring six wagons of her own, and she just sold me five horses and four mules. I have bought the brandy she could not bring herself. There is also twelve wagon's worth of strong cider, but I think I shall sell most of it on our way to Erkateren."

Arthur smiled in return. "Are we leaving tomorrow then?"

"Gods! No, we shall be off as soon as people finish eating. This remarkable woman even knew where I could find a cooking wagon, and she shall bring her daughter to drive it and run the cooking as well."

The remarkable woman frowned, and Harbend translated.

"He's a foreigner?" she asked.

"Foreigner, yes. Mage, no. So you have no need to worry."

"If that had been my main concern I wouldn't have asked to go with you to Erkateren, not to speak of Braka," she replied with an amused glint in her eyes.

Harbend laughed. "I admit defeat."

"Now, what was that?" Arthur asked, and Harbend translated again.

Two days from Roadbreak Arthur came to understand the peculiar name of the town. They were on the highway running west to east, from Keen to Erkateren, and only splotches of gravel told him someone did care for the road at all. There was dust everywhere, and he began longing for rain even if Harbend had warned him that rain was what would turn the road into a muddy quagmire. At the moment Arthur didn't care. The dust crawled into his eyes, ears, nose and mouth, and every time he took off his jacket a cloud of the ever present dirt enveloped him in an instant.

They'd bought the beasts of burden they needed at farms the girl led Harbend to, even though most of them turned out to be oxen. It mattered little. As draft animals they were stronger than horses, and with a wagon train speed wasn't important. Especially on a road like this where they only managed to cover half the distance each day compared to back in Keen.

A caravan, and by now it looked like one. Almost forty wagons in total and over a hundred horses, mules and oxen unaccounted for. Two grooms and two cooks hired in Roadbreak as well as a carpenter. With drivers and escort they were well over a hundred men and women traveling on the road. All the animals and humans in one place, always moving, made a noise Arthur wouldn't have believed possible outside of a city.

He wasn't surprised when people came out from their farmhouses to watch the strange train passing by. Some even approached them asking for news from Keen and that usually resulted in a little bit of trade and the caravan swelled with livestock in exchange for cider and clothes made in Verd.

Trindai wiped grime from his forehead. He preferred riding with the vanguard, but responsible for the escort as a whole he couldn't indulge in spending all of the day scouting ahead in friendly territory. Each mission was different and knowing how people acted and reacted was key to its outcome.

He smiled as Major Terwin returned with his scouts.

"News?"

"Dust and bumps."

"Sounds exciting. Get some food and rest. Rearguard next. Tell them to catch up with us and water their horses!"

"Sir!"

Trindai watched as Kalvar Terwin led his group to a nearby farm. They'd water their horses there while waiting for the rearguard to arrive.

Peaceful this far at least. Luckily enough the greedy merchant and the over sized outworlder both turned out to be decent horsemen. Better yet, neither of them complained. A far cry from the horrid mission when he'd escorted a bunch of fat merchants from Dagd to Vratistak. One of Madame de Felder's less successful assignments. One squadron babysitting lazy idiots never tired enough to cease complaining while at the same time collecting taxes long overdue from the client states they passed through.

He shivered. Collecting them hadn't been half as bad as returning the coffers safely back to Verd.

Well, eightdays yet before he'd have anything real to worry about. Major Berdaler was the one with the problems this time. With the orders Trindai sent was a letter of debt covering the costs for mustering enough soldiers to swell the escort in Ri Khi. The Minister of Commerce had added another letter confirming that the caravan was an official De Vhatic trading mission.

Trindai wondered how much weight it would carry in Ri Khi. Enough to attract a significant number of traders? Enough with the message about Lord Garak leading the caravan? A half truth, nothing more. Harbend de Garak was a titled house, and as such a lord of sorts. Ramdar Garak was a full duke of Khi, the kind of lord people from Khi, or Ri Khi for that matter, would follow into a war zone.

Wiping more grime from his face Trindai rode on. Next rotation he'd be part of the vanguard and he planned to change clothes before his respite from the dust.

To Arthur the weeks took on a monotonous routine. Waking at daybreak to the sound of metal clanking at the cooking wagon, then eating porridge, saddling a horse and away checking the road while the wagons were made ready. After that an entire day covered in dust, with only a short break for the midday meal, before it was time to make camp again. Riding with the vanguard was the only way to keep the worst of the dust away. Riding with the vanguard, unfortunately, also required him to don some pieces of leather armor which turned out to be heavier than he suspected, and a lot warmer.

To his dismay he quickly learned that his attempts to communicate with anyone but Harbend still failed because of his inability to properly use De Vhatic. Words, he desperately hungered for new words. It wasn't as if he disliked Harbend's company, not at all, but he wanted to be part of the caravan as well.

The feeling of not belonging was strongest during the evenings, especially the evening following bathing day, the last of each eightday, when the caravan stood still and people spent the time making small repairs and washing their clothes. That day closed early, and great bonfires were laid in preparation for the coming feast. The evening meal one worth the name rather than cold leftovers or trail rations. A cow or some sheep were slaughtered and they all ate and drank until long after dark.

One of the guards had a knack for storytelling, and Arthur was shut out from the happy laughter unable to understand more than occasional words. That hurt, hurt almost as much as his nightmares, but he forced himself to learn more despite the small voice telling him to give up.

One morning Arthur tried to make notes on what he had caught of De Vhatic the previous day, and as always jotting down words on his notepad turned out difficult as he was riding. He'd thought of using a microphone rather than a pen, but that would cut down the lifespan of his power cells to less than half, and he didn't know if he could ever get new ones.

He was interrupted by the unfamiliar feeling of water on his face. Not a downpour but rather a steady drizzle, and Arthur was grateful when the ever present dust slowly settled.

Harbend swore as more and more wagons got mired. It was one of the hazards with a caravan he'd only heard about but never seen. A few wagons would never have been caught this way, and only the trailing wagons got into problems as the road softened. It took days of rain for a single wagon to get stuck.

He ordered their reserve horses and all oxen to be added to the last wagons in an attempt to keep up speed. Now he could only hope the rain wouldn't get much worse, or they'd start losing yet more time.

Turning his horse he rode along the caravan until he met Arthur and the escort captain, a silent man named Trindai Laiden who, with Vildir's approval, had picked the men to be in the escort.

"Arthur, how is the road further on?"

Arthur growled in response and Trindai answered instead.

"Road's impassable, M'lord. Creek turned river, but we can ford it if we follow a game trail Lord Wallman found. I guess it must have rained more further east."

Harbend looked at Arthur. Gods! He wasn't just wet from rain. The man must have fallen into the water, which would explain his less than cordial greeting earlier.

Hold there! I asked my question in De Vhatic, but he must have understood it anyway.

A marvel of a man, a very wet marvel at that. Harbend laughed and the captain shared his mirth, even if in a more silent manner.

"Well, Arthur," he said, in English this time, "I see that you keep to your high standards of hygiene."

"You be silent or you'll bloody share it when we pass that river," came the sullen response.

"Now, now, do not start complaining. You wished for a change in weather. You have it. I shall call it a fair trade."

Arthur started grumbling again but was cut short by the sound of rustling wings when a large bird of prey passed over them and struck an animal no more than fifty paces away.

"What was that?"

Harbend glanced after the bird struggling with its prey. "An eagle. They are rather rare."

"That's no eagle. Maybe not even a bird."

"It is an eagle. One of you outworlders taught me the word less than a year ago when we saw a bird like this circling over Verd."

"But, Harbend, it's got teeth and four legs! That's a lizard's head, not a beak."

Harbend stared at his partner. Strange reaction from a man who supposedly had seen most of his own world. "So, some birds have beaks and some do not."

Arthur didn't answer. He just kept on staring while the eagle devoured its prey.