Chapter Eleven
Rising from the same seat she had occupied the day before, Bey slowly, intentionally, met the eyes of everyone in the circle. Riordan couldn’t tell whether she was stunned, overwhelmed with emotion, or simply being deeply respectful. “I accept this honor, to sit among you in all councils. It is hard to imagine that only seventy days ago, I was newly your captive and we were fleeing north from—”
Arashk sprinted around the nearest bend in the pass that wound snakelike to Achgabab.
“Come quickly!” he panted. “All of you! Djubaran has returned. With news! Much news! Quickly! What are you waiting for?”
* * *
As Caine led the command group into Achgabab’s great hall, two immense guards—as large as those who had flanked Chief Vaagdjul—crossed their blades in front of Bey.
Riordan turned on his heel and confronted the barrier from the other side. “Let me pass. I am leaving.”
The guards stared at him. “But our chief has requested you.”
“We were told all should come. All have. You choose: all of us enter, or none of us.” Riordan felt the Crewe stiffen around him: not in trepidation, but pride.
A long, simian hand reached in from the side, caused the axe-heads to lift merely by touching them: Yidreg.
From behind the hunter, Ulchakh smiled apologetically. “A misunderstanding.” He raised his voice so Achgabab’s local luminaries could all hear clearly. “Please, Friend Caine who has my chogruk, you and all your companions are asked to honor us with your presence.”
Riordan nodded. “We are honored to be asked to stand before the chief of Achgabab.” Smiling, they turned and together paced slowly into the center of the great hall, the Crewe and Bey walking tall and proud behind.
“That was passably said,” Ulchakh muttered, “but not quite as I taught you.”
“I shall endeavor to be a more apt pupil,” Riordan replied from the side of his mouth. He waited as Ulchakh smothered a chuckle. “Why did they block Bey?”
“Because she is not fully human, no matter how much she looks it. No generation alive has seen anyone of her blood in this chamber.”
“What was the last generation that did?”
Ulchakh glanced sideways. “None that we know of, Friend Caine.” He nodded at Riordan’s widened eyes. “Now you feel the importance of this moment. And your place in it.”
He led them all to the left side of the raised stone shelf upon which Vaagdjul’s chair was already placed. As they came to a halt, Yaargraukh murmured, “It is interesting, who is standing in the other place of honor.”
Riordan glanced over—and was too surprised not to stare.
Tirolane nodded at him. Enoran and Orsost were just a step behind to either flank. Slightly off to one side, Ta’rel beamed at the Crewe.
“Hey, Boss,” Dora hissed more than whispered, “don’t those guys work for us?”
Riordan shook his head. “Ta’rel and Tirolane have traveled with us as friends.” Although the mangle might have said something! “The oath we took from the other two was only until we reached Achgabab.”
“Still—”
“Don’t jump to any conclusions—and don’t say anything else.” Riordan stood very straight as guards entered from the tunnel that arose from the deeper rock. After them, a much-scarred young h’achgai entered, Chief Vaagdjul’s hand on his shoulder. Whether the venerable leader of the Great Tribes did so to steer the youth or use him as support was unclear.
Reaching the chair with slow surety, Vaagdjul waited as he was announced, his audience inclined their heads in respect, and the boy stepped slightly to his right side. He sat with even more care than he had lavished upon each step, drew in a great breath and announced, “Before you stands Djubaran of the family Judhé, second branch of Clan Uksko. He undertook his cho’urz to the dunes-that-do-not-move. Determined to learn more of them, he returned before he could be affirmed as a child no more. But now he has returned. Affirm him!”
“Djubaran: a child no more!” shouted all the h’achgai.
“And again, for a second journey and second proving!”
The same chorus rose, even louder.
“Now,” Vaagdjul said through a loud sigh as he leaned back into his chair, “attend Djubaran’s words, which bear import to h’achgai and visitors alike.”
Djubaran stepped forward and cried, “I have traveled and seen! Hear the tale I swear is true!” His posture became slightly less rigid, and even though his voice was no longer so loud, it still rang back down from the high, craggy arches of the hall. “You have heard tell of what I found when I reached the end of my cho’urz. The sandy sides of the dunes-that-do-not-move had fallen away to reveal the ancient stone flat-tops that lay beneath them.
“But soon after, I was set upon by a dozen tadjabbai—”
“What?” Dora whispered far too loudly.
“Shuddup,” Miles muttered.
“—which chased me for many days before I found rock upon which to walk, scattering sand before me to keep my scent from touching it. The chiefs of old surely watched over me, sending winds to blow the sand away before the tadjabbai arrived. And so I escaped and returned to Achgabab.
“But even as I fled the flat-tops, I saw something that was only reported once before, and so, had been thought a mistake—either in the eye of he who saw it, or the hand that recorded the tale. Some distance away, there were shallow holes among the lower dunes, such as fingers make when plunged down into dry sand. This was why I returned, though all counseled against it: to better see what had not been seen in many generations and perhaps to learn what caused it.”
Djubaran rubbed at one of the healing gashes on his face. “The second journey was harder. The spring hatching filled the air with hungry kiks, and that hunger made them bold. But the closer I came to hotside, the fewer there were, until I once again stood before the flat-tops.
“The sands had rehidden all but the largest one, and the strange holes were more shallow. But now I could ascend to the top of the flat-top that remained exposed, so I risked a closer approach.”
Murmurs rippled through the great hall. Ulchakh leaned toward Caine. “No one has ever dared to touch, let alone stand upon, any of the flat-tops. Djubaran risked much, and has gained much, in this. Not only is his future bright, but many believe it augurs the special favor of our Passed Chiefs.”
The young h’achgai spoke over the fading whispers. “There I discovered that the top of the ancient stone was as flat as winter ice, but also, that several round doors led down into it, one of which was damaged.”
“Hatches?” Duncan whispered from behind. Caine tilted his head slightly, hoped that Solsohn understood that he had heard but also, that a single audible word might be deemed disrespectful.
“I was deciding whether to approach closer,” Djubaran continued, “and possibly peer within the flat-top, when ’qo came from the north. They had caught my scent on the wind. So I fled.”
Djubaran took a moment to collect himself. “They did not relent. Three full days they pursued me, pushing me ever closer to the great river that flows down to Forkus and beyond. The ground was less even and there were wadis in which I lost the ’qo by going back upon my own tracks. But there were always some more behind me to the east, so I had no safe path to return home.
“So I made the river my destination, bending my steps toward Tajkor. Even though it is on the far side and well back from the high-water bank. I hoped that, if I remained watchful, I could signal to any of our kin who might go there for fresh water or game.
“Once again, our Passed Chiefs watched over me. Less than a day after arriving, hunters appeared along the far bank. They saw me waving my clothes and heard me crying over the rush of the river. They returned with one of their small boats and fetched me to their side of the river when it was at equiflow. The chief of Tajkor welcomed me, saw to my care, and bid me carry news of his people to their cousins here, though some of it was only for the ears of our own chief. He also relayed a strange story that he urged I pass on to the Mangled, but now, Chief Vaagdjul has asked me to share it with you.
“Tajkor is not set beside the river, but its people watch its waters from hidden places. When there is nothing in view, its hunters go forth, as do its merchants. Some days before I arrived, one of the traders they know from Fragkork stopped at the appointed place on the bank. After it was clear his party had not been followed, Tajkor’s own traders came forth.
“Not only goods were exchanged, but news as well, including evil tidings from Fragkork. The lieges of that city are indeed selling off their humans to the south, but far more quickly than has been reported. Several mean to send their most valuable breedstock downriver by barge, and so, eliminate most of the risks associated with caravans.
“One name among the first group of humans to be traded in his manner was familiar to the traders: Cruvanor. He is a famed warrior in the stable of Gorzrik, who is the second vassal of Sirvashwekh, sworn to Ormalg. The chief of Tajkor bade me to be sure to bring that name and news to you.”
Vaagdjul held up his hand. “Djubaran, you have acquitted yourself as well in the hall as you have upon the wastes. Go, now, with your kin to feast and rest. All others, I thank you for witnessing the completion of his cho’urz. I must now have the hall to discuss matters with our visitors.”
The h’achgai other than those who had traveled with the Crewe—and three large guards—exited the cavernous chamber with curious glances and low murmurs. When they were gone, Vaagdjul swung his gaze away from Caine and Ulchakh to the other side of his rude dais. “Ta’rel, though you do not come from the tribes of Ebrekka, is this human, Cruvanor, known to you?”
The mangle’s teal eyes half closed in affirmation. “Ne’sar, daughter of the durus’maan of Ebrekka, told me to remain alert for that name. He is indeed a great war leader. Some say the greatest of all the stables of Fragkork, even if he is past his prime. But this is not why the news is important. Well, not directly.”
“Explain.”
“Ne’sar explained that if Cruvanor was to be sold away from the stable, it would signify two things: that Sirvashwekh is forcing his most ambitious vassal, Gorzrik, to do so in order to weaken him. But secondly, and more importantly, it would be a sign that the lieges of Fragkork are not simply reducing their stables, but eliminating them with almost reckless speed.”
“Why would they do that?”
Ta’rel shrugged. “Because the x’qao may have finally found an adequate replacement for humans. And by trading away the greatest of the city’s war leaders first, they would also be reducing the possibility that their plans might be foiled. As you are surely aware, humans have proven unusually adept at toppling vassals or vavasors through indirect means. Cruvanor would surely be the most proficient—and willing—to silently instigate such trouble and so, disrupt their plans.”
Vaagdjul nodded, scanned all the human faces. “I asked all of you to stay because I foresaw that you would now have matters to discuss and would wish a private place to do so. But also because whatever you do next, it will not be difficult for adversaries to learn that you started out from Achgabab. So in this way, our fates have become intertwined with yours. I mean to hear what you hope to achieve in journeying to the dunes-that-do-not-move, that I may counsel you. In doing so, I intend to protect my people from reprisals that might arise from rash or ill-considered plans.”
Riordan nodded. “Don’t screw up my world, humans:” a fair enough message. “I am interested, Chief Vaagdjul, in what you think our objectives might be.”
It was Ulchakh who answered. “Such remote ruins often contain artifacts of the world as it was before. You obviously knew that because you were bedecked with such wonders when we met in Forkus—and your eyes brightened as I told you of the dunes-that-do-not-move.” He shrugged. “Those who already possess—and understand—such artifacts will certainly seek more.”
Riordan smiled. “True.”
Vaagdjul leaned forward. “But now a new concern arises, does it not? You freed two humans from the caravan: those standing by Tirolane. The full account sent by the chief of Tajkor suggests that this barge will be carrying more. Possibly many more.”
Tirolane nodded slowly. “That is almost certain, if Cruvanor is being sent. If Gorzrik failed to include enough humans for a reasonable retinue, he might as well have proclaimed his intention to barter off the war leader. Also, because barges are only used to convey cargos of extraordinary value, it would be plausible that Gorzrik would detail Cruvanor to oversee its protection.
“Still, a renowned war leader such as he might see through the charade, if for no other reason than x’qao vassals are loath to send their most capable and experienced humans into the field. Such a leader’s strategic acumen, and ready detection of subtle ploys, is too valuable to the defense of a x’qao stronghold. So if Cruvanor has any suspicions that he is the precious cargo, the humans will be watchful for any opportunity to escape.”
Tirolane’s voice tightened as he concluded. “This a singular opportunity. We should seize it.”
Riordan managed to conceal his surprise. “You mean, to attack the barge?”
Tirolane nodded.
Riordan looked around the Crewe: a few nods, a few shaking heads, mostly shrugs. “As I am sure Arashk or others have told you, we make decisions much as do the h’achgai. I may be the commander for battles—the dregdo—but when it comes to steering our course into the future, we are all dregdir; all of us have a voice. So we will need to discuss this, first. ”
Vaagdjul shook his head. “Caine Riordan, I fear you do not understand the importance of Djubaran’s words when he said that these humans were soon to be loaded on the barge. Allowing for the time it took for the traders from Fragkork to carry this news down the river to Tajkor, and then for Djubaran to reach us, a decision must be made swiftly. Very swiftly.”
Orsost’s neck cords stood out in high relief. “It may already be too late! The current from Fragkork is swift!”
Tirolane gestured for the former stable-warrior to be silent.
Riordan made sure he didn’t frown, even as he thought, Despite their initial oath of fealty to us, you put those two in your pocket, didn’t you, Tirolane? I just hope you’re the friend we thought you were. “The only way we can give you an immediate decision is for us to take a vote right now. Study the faces of my friends, Tirolane. They have many questions, perhaps more than I do. Are you willing to answer all of them, standing here?”
Tirolane frowned. “I suspect it would be unwise—for both of us—if I did so.”
“Then the alternative is for us to vote without knowing any more than we have heard. But again, look at our faces and consider: do you believe you will get the answer you wish without telling us why you want it so very badly?”
Tirolane’s hands became fists. Riordan wondered if the sound he heard was the big swordsman’s teeth grinding. “Very well: ask your questions.”
Dora stepped out from the Crewe. “Tasvar told us you were looking for your friends. Is one of them with this Cruvanor, maybe?”
“No, but he, of all people, might know where they are. Or how to find them.”
Duncan shook his head. “Look, if they’re using the river to move this Cruvanor, then how many places could they be taking him? To Forkus? Maybe a city further downriver? My point is, why rush to intercept the barge if we can find and grab him later?”
Tirolane shook his head. “You presume you can project Cruvanor’s likely journey. You cannot. Besides, the odds of rescuing him grow worse with every passing day.”
Solsohn shrugged. “Well, that’s just another reason why it would be better if we carry out the rescue after our salvage mission to the dunes. With any luck, we’ll find a few more useful ‘artifacts’ to tip the balance in our favor. So as soon as we’ve taken a quick look—”
“No!” Tirolane snapped. “He may not have that much time.”
Ayana inclined her head. “With respect, Djubaran’s tale indicates that we, too, could be running out of time. The sands seem to be reclaiming the flat-tops once again.”
“Then we can dig!”
“We don’t have enough hands to do it.”
“But you are likely to, after taking the barge!” Tirolane countered. “As it was after the caravan, any trogs you capture will have no one else to follow. And they will do so gladly because your leadership is wise and gentle. If unconventional.”
“And of course, they would fear you,” added Bey.
Tirolane shrugged. “Tell me: have the trogs not been easier to control, knowing that there is at least one human who has no gentle feelings for them?”
“Yes, it has been a great help,” Bey said bitterly, “having them work beneath your death-filled eyes.”
Even through his bronzed skin, Tirolane was fair enough that his flush was evident. “I will not deny that my heart was hard when I joined you. But this too, is true: you are not the only one who sees the world differently, now. Still my point stands: after intercepting the barge, we would have more thralls—I misspeak: followers—with which to remove the sand.”
Bannor shook his head. “Aren’t you missing a step in the process, Tirolane? The part where we actually stop a barge, commandeer it, and come away with a lot of prisoners? Because sinking it . . . well, that would pretty much defeat the purpose.”
Tirolane folded his large arms. “Barges must stop for the night if or when the river becomes too forceful. But there are only so many places they may be beached safely—which is why we must make haste. There is only once such breakwater north of Khorkrag and it would be a hard march to get there before the barge. Once it is downriver, we cannot overtake it.” He shrugged. “As for commandeering it, I have seen your artifacts used in battle. I have no doubt they would prove at least as decisive in this one.”
Tirolane stepped forward into the lull in their questions, arms slightly raised. “You have told me all the things that you supposed I did not understand. Now, I must list the things of which you have little or no knowledge.”
“‘Catching up’ to Cruvanor is a bad idea, and not merely because of the speed with which the barge will carry him to an uncertain fate. You are also assuming that you will be able to inspect the ruin quickly, find useful artifacts, and then discover Cruvanor’s whereabouts. Each of those assumptions is flawed.”
Solsohn crossed his arms. “And do you know how long prospecting will take?”
“No one can say, but I do have some knowledge of what other prospectors have encountered. Even if the site’s internal structure is mostly intact, and none of its walls or ceilings need to be shored up like a mine shaft, the most time-consuming process will still stand before you.”
“Exploration?” Duncan suggested.
Tirolane shook his head. “Cataloging and then removing what you find. Only fools race through these rare ruins, grabbing whatever comes to hand. Often, different objects only make sense when seen in context of each other. Removal must therefore be slow and methodical. Which is further complicated by the dangers of the deep caverns.”
Miles screwed up his face. “What deep caverns? Besides, we’re not going spelunking—er, cave-crawling beyond the ruins.”
Tirolane shrugged. “No, but their denizens are typically inclined to emerge when fresh air sinks in.”
“Wait,” Craig said, raising both hands, “are you telling me that these ruins are all connected to caves? Filled with, uh, monsters?”
“Not all, but most. Another factor of which you are unaware: creatures of the dark always seek paths to the surface, not only so that they may hunt upon the wastes, but because those are points where rainwater trickles down.” Tirolane shook his head. “For these reasons, prospectors must be competent warriors who are prepared for a long campaign fought in the dark. Because once a sealed site is breached, you may not leave until you have removed all the salvage you mean to take away. Whatever you leave behind will be stripped bare.”
Newton crossed his arms. “And how long does such removal take?”
Tirolane shrugged. “It depends upon the size of the site and the thoroughness of the prospectors. But even a relatively small find would take weeks if you were near a city such as Forkus. But out in the high desert, a dozen or more days’ hard travel to this, the nearest tribal village? You must think in terms of months.” His hands lowered. “So you see, there will be no speedy ‘tracking’ of Cruvanor if we do not rescue him. Now.”
Eku’s voice was quiet but focused, as if he were examining an object very carefully. “I have the impression that you expect to find something other than collapsed ruins at these flat-tops, that it may prove more intact than most. More useful.”
Tirolane glanced at the factotum, as if seeing and assessing him for the first time. “‘Expect’ is too strong a word. But insofar as these structures are rarely exposed, and border on hotside, there is an excellent chance that they have not been accessed before. Also, in such arid lands, rain is rare, so the likelihood of water damage is low.”
Caine glanced at the one member of the Crewe who had been conspicuously silent since Vaagdjul entered. “You have no questions, Yaargraukh?”
The Hkh’Rkh’s heavy shoulders bunched and shook: dismay, even angry despair. “I am not human, but how may I find fault with any being who wishes to save one of his own kind from the enslavement of a species as inimical as the x’qai?” He ended on a fluting nostril-sigh.
Enoran and Orsost looked hopeful. But Tirolane seemed to understand that the sound Yaargraukh had emitted was not promising.
“Consequently, I have no question,” Yaargraukh resumed, “but I do have an observation. One that I take no joy in sharing.
“If we resolved ourselves to finding and freeing all humans, great or humble, who are traded as brute chattel, we would never do anything but that. And because the task is endless, we would help but a fraction of those who deserve it.
“More sobering still is the probability that we would no longer have the time or resources to build our forces and improve our equipment. Instead, all we would have to show for our efforts would be determined pursuit by the most powerful suzerains and too many empty spaces where our friends once sat in our camp circle.
“So I must ask: at what point must our own directives take precedence over local needs? Should we defer such rescues until we can aid all, not just those of especial importance or repute? Or is it best that we do rescue this Cruvanor first because his name and reputation precede him and so, best serve the greater cause?” The Hkh’Rkh’s neck spasmed. “We can say choosing him is more efficient, but never let us assert that it was ‘fair.’”
Tirolane hung his head. “The noble grat’r-that-is-not speaks honorable words. And were Cruvanor here, I imagine he would agree.”
Enoran raised an eyebrow. “You speak as if you know him.”
Tirolane shook his head. “No, but I know a great deal about him. Which is why it is not chance that I traveled north with Sharat and that I am not stunned to find Cruvanor nearby, in danger of being traded away from Gorzrik’s stable.”
Orsost shook his head. “But how could you know of Cruvanor? You are from Zrik Whir.”
“I grew up in those distant isles, yes, but you can see from my skin I am not from there.”
“Then how the hell do you know about Cruvanor?” Miles almost shouted.
Tirolane looked up, eyes bright. “Because he is my grandfather.”