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Chapter Twenty-Three

Riordan stopped in front of the oar; the others remained nearby, but not clustered around him. “I am in need of oars,” he said.

The h’achga sitting on the other side of the display hide looked up from keeping accounts on a piece of slate. “How many?” The chalk in his long, orang fingers had not stopped, only slowed.

“At least four.”

“So many?”

“Yes.”

“You must be traveling in rough waters or in a large boat.”

Riordan stared at the merchant: if anyone was watching, it would hopefully appear to be a moment of forced patience. “How much?”

The chalk in the h’achga’s hand became still. It was more than slightly disorienting to watch a creature that was at least as much simian as human wield it so deftly when most of the trogs around were clearly incapable of reading or writing a single symbol. “I have not seen you here before.”

You’re really playing the part, aren’t you? “And you may not see me here again, if you continue to touch on personal topics.”

The other’s heavy, receding brow rose. “I am merely being friendly.” He glanced toward, but not directly at, the mound where the scythes ostensibly watched the marshalling ground. “Unlike some others.” His gaze moved back toward Caine but it lingered on the feed silos behind the paddock for a moment. Then Ulchakh’s eyes reconnected with Riordan’s. He smiled again. Knowingly.

So Hresh just gave his thumbs-up. Riordan let his own glance wander toward the platform where standards of four x’qai lieges flapped fitfully in a faint river breeze that had struggled into the center of the city. “It can be so difficult to tell when unfriendly people will act on their feelings.”

The trader waved away a fly as he glanced down at the hem of Caine’s robe . . . and the vacc boot soles that were visible beneath. “Yes, but today, they appear uninterested. At least, so far.”

Riordan played along. “Perhaps they are simply blind.”

The greying h’achga huffed. “They are certainly able to see through or around anything less than a complete disguise.” He returned to making more marks on his slate, but his attention was clearly still on Caine. “But if they already know to expect unusual visitors, they would not be unduly concerned. Or even interested. Unless those visitors had failed to take the step of concealing their status from those less alert.” His eyes briefly ran the length of Caine’s robe.

“And if the visitors hadn’t taken that precaution?”

The human-orang shrugged. “It might well injure their pride, prompt them to confront such persons . . . even if they had orders not to.” The h’achga looked up again. “Grievances are easy to manufacture in a vansary where there is much shoving and jostling.”

Riordan nodded. And while we’re on the topic . . . “I am unfamiliar with the gold disk with which our watchers adorn their standards.”

The merchant regarded him with a look that Caine read as, Congratulations: you just told everyone standing close enough to hear that you know absolutely nothing about life in this, or any other, city. “I doubt the vansary here is too different from the ones you’ve seen before. It is one of the few places that such watchers may mix safely. Indeed, they enforce the truce that makes such trade possible. The bond-gold disk signifies not only the wealth of those whom they serve, but that they are sworn to uphold the peace.”

“And if a power wishes to send such watchers but hasn’t enough gold to craft such a disk?”

The h’achga shrugged. “Then that power hasn’t enough wealth to warrant sending watchers, and so, has no voice or business here.” He glanced up. “But clearly you do, bond-gold or not.” He put his slate aside. “You asked how much. I asked why you are interested in purchasing an oar because your answer may influence the price I quote.”

Riordan nodded. “Ask your question plainly, then.”

“If you are heading downstream, then I might reduce the price. I have a message that must be relayed to my partner in the port of Atagurkhu. So, if you are traveling that far, we should have a private meeting to discuss the cost of the oars if you are willing to deliver my message.”

“Then let us have that discussion,” Riordan replied, suppressing a smile. He’d dealt with senior interstellar diplomats, human and otherwise, who could learn a thing or three from the paleolithic orang hybrid in front of him. Who’d purposely spoken loud enough to be heard. Who’d made sure the conversation proceeded as contentious haggling, rather than as a suspiciously smooth agreement. Who had used an implied reduction in price to pry Riordan’s travel plans out of him, which would mislead anyone who might intend to follow the Crewe. And of course, whose need to both share his message and settle on the price made it essential that they retire to the privacy of his “office.”

The h’achga rose, brushing chalk dust off his hide armor. He held open the flap of his tepee-shaped tent just as Duncan joined Caine. “My name is Ulchakh. On my oath and honor, I bid you enter as guests.”

***

Ulchakh’s “office” only had room for three, but most of the others were listening on an open channel. Outside, Yaargraukh was already reprising the role he’d played upon entering Forkus: diffidently monitoring his “human servitors.”

“I would offer you water and salt,” Ulchakh said in an apologetic tone, “but we should not spend much time within.”

Riordan nodded. “Wise. So: our mutual friends are of the opinion we might help each other.”

“I agree. You have noticed that I am the only vendor who is alone in the vansary?”

“We have,” Duncan answered. Which was good, because Riordan had not.

“That is because my assistants have abandoned me or are dead, and I have no way to return home safely.”

“And where is your home?” Riordan asked.

“We shall return to that in a moment. So you may know that helping me will not bring the anger of any lieges upon you, here is the tale of how I come to be alone.

“Twenty days ago, I arrived in Forkus with my trade goods. I had started out with three warriors from my home and five others who helped bear the loads to the nearest town on the northern river: Khorkrag. Once there, the five bearers returned to their hearths and I hired five more guards from among the many unattached praakht of that region.

“The journey down the river was swift, for we had brought the sections of a boat both for travel and, upon reaching Forkus, sale. Once we had assembled it, we started south, staying close to the west bank, which is safer. However, camping ashore as one must, we were twice set upon by beasts of the wastes. One of my kinsmen and two of the praakht were lost.

“It was our good fortune to draw abreast of a caravan that had set out from Fragkork, a city north of Khorkrag, shortly after half our journey was complete. Unable to control the boat adequately with so few hands, we agreed to parallel them during travel and camp with them at night. We also rowed slightly ahead of the caravan twice a day, to report back any dangers visible from the shallows. It was a useful agreement and only one more of my praakht guards was wounded.

“Upon arriving in Forkus, we parted ways with the caravan. The praakh’s wound did not heal on its own. So, I acted as I had promised when hiring them: I found a shaman to heal him. The praakht were grateful at first, but less so when their share was reduced—as were all of ours, in equal measure—to pay for the shaman’s help.

“We were sheltering with my kin on the north bank of this city, but after I had secured a buyer for the cargo—hides, salt-meat, waterskins, bonework, and the boat itself—I still had to deliver them. This required hiring porters to bear the goods on the ferry that took the boat in tow. Unfortunately, one of the winter-end storms swept in and, although the trade was completed, I was unable to board a returning ferry until the next day.

“The night I was gone, an argument arose between my kinsmen and the two healthy praakht, who claimed that they had never been told that their shares would be equally reduced in order to heal one of their number. They insisted that the salt I had been given as an advance against full payment should be their compensation. My kinsmen disagreed and physically prevented them from taking the salt.

“During the night, the praakht slew my two friends and fled with the salt. Untended, the wounded praakht was dead by morning. So I returned to find myself alone and stranded in Forkus.”

He rested his long, flat hands on his knees. “That is the sum of my tale. I am now wealthy but friendless. That can quickly change to ‘poor and dead,’ unless I travel in the company of strong and trustworthy friends. Which Arashk and Hresh say you are. My cargo is light: more salt, iron warheads, several bows, several ingots of bronze and one of iron. There is also a suit of scale mail, also bronze. I have angered no lieges or vassals. I know these lands well and shall teach you of them and the creatures that call them home. Will you have me travel with you?”

Duncan was rubbing his nose. “We are honored by your trust, but it is not certain if we will be traveling in the direction you wish. It could—”

“However,” Riordan interrupted, “let us hear more of what you propose. It may convince us to travel in the direction you require.” If they moved an eight-man boat overland to a town and then assembled it there, they not only had impressive skills; their understanding of planning and precision made them natural allies. That alone might make the trip worthwhile. And Ulchakh had yet to put his part of the deal on the table.

He wasted no time doing so. “That we may be quick, I hope you will forgive any assumptions I make, based on what I have been told and now, have witnessed.”

Riordan nodded.

“You are new in this, eh, region, and so, are ignorant of it. That is a great danger, whether you remain within Forkus or depart. You do not know what you might encounter, or whose anger you might incur and why.

“There is but one remedy for this: to have friends who will answer your questions and show you safe paths. And to have a safe place in which to learn those lessons and from which to make your first forays to achieve whatever goals may shape your actions. Do I speak correctly?”

Riordan smiled. “Please continue.”

Ulchakh smiled back. “My home is such a place. It is a stronghold of the h’achgai, called Achgabab. This is the place to which I must return. I can assure that you will be gladly received there, treated as guests, and, by the time we reach it, you will have completed most of the learning you must have to move safely about these lands.”

Solsohn nodded. “How far is the journey?”

“It would be in two parts. The first is to follow the river from Forkus north to Khorkrag. Then from there to Achgabab. The journey beside the river is long; I do not know how you measure such things.”

“Go ahead,” Riordan reassured him, “we understand your distances.”

Duncan nodded at the two values Ulchakh shared. “So,” he said glancing at Riordan, “I make that about seven hundred eighty kilometers to Khorkrag, and another one hundred eighty to Achgabab.” In German he added, “That’s quite a trek.”

Riordan frowned. “I am aware,” he said in English. Then, turning to Ulchakh: “My friend slipped into one of our native languages. He observed that this is a very great distance.” He smiled. “However, I expected no less. How long might the journey be?”

“No less than forty-five days, perhaps somewhat more. The weather is often difficult in early spring.”

About twenty klicks for every fifteen hours of daylight. Over level ground. Doable, but add local footwear to the shopping list. “And we would be responsible not merely for your safety, but meals and other needs during that journey?”

The greying h’achga smiled. “You have bartered before.”

“Some,” Riordan said, remembering doing so in countless downtrodden towns he’d passed through during his time in virtua.

Ulchakh laughed. “Hresh was right. You will be good companions. You are not easily fooled, and you have a sense of humor.”

Riordan smiled. “I presume that we shall work out the details through our mutual friends, so I shall restrict myself to one more question that cannot be asked or answered except directly.” He leaned forward. “Why us?”

“Well, it is as I have said: you are strong, have been vouched for by an oathkeeper, and—”

“No, there is something else. As valuable as the education and safe haven of your home might be, you risk none of your wealth and ask us to put all ours to work in ensuring your safety. You must have something else to offer.” He smiled. “This was your final test, of course.”

“Of course,” Ulchakh agreed and unveiled a delighted smile that showed his very simian teeth in a broad arc. “Beyond becoming known to my people and perhaps finding advantageous trade with them, my home is near a terrain anomaly that is likely to be of great interest to you.”

“Which is?”

“This winter just past brought hard weather. Terrible wind and rain. There were even two matjvalkar.

“Matjvalkar?” Riordan repeated uncertainly.

“A spinning wind that destroys whatever it touches.”

Well, now we know the word for “tornado.” “Go on.”

“It changed the land in places, particularly the lay of the dunes where the dust gives way to nothing but sand. We might not have learned how great those changes were for a whole season, had not one of our young males—Djubaran—made his cho’urz into it.”

“Explain cho’urz,” asked Duncan. After Ulchakh had complied, adding many cultural details, Solsohn exchanged nods with Caine. “A walkabout.” Turning back to Ulchakh, he explained, “Some of our peoples have a similar tradition.”

Riordan leaned forward. “And one has exactly this tradition.”

“Ah, the x’qagrat’r lord. His people are wise. Better that those who cannot survive life upon the wastes perish early. If not, their frailty can bring death to companions who are honor sworn not to abandon them, even when they should.”

Not only did Duncan nod meaningfully, but all the military personnel listening in on the channel grunted approvingly.

Riordan was fairly sure where the young h’achga’s story was headed. “And what did Djubaran find in the reshaped dunes?”

“The reappearance of what we call the ‘flat tops.’ It has been generations since they were last seen, and many doubted that they were anything other than tales. But Djubaran saw them.”

“What are they?”

“We do not know, except that they are from the time of ruins. Their tops are flat, their sides are sloped. Their stone surfaces are like those of several liege-forts in Forkus, like the Legate’s: one piece, smooth as if poured into that shape rather than built from pieces.”

Riordan heard the ripple of murmurs Ulchakh’s description sent through the Crewe: surprised and hopeful. Even if he did not react audibly, Duncan’s eyes showed the same reaction. Which, for purposes of negotiation, was about as helpful as a poker player who gasped in joy every time a choice card came their way.

Ulchakh smiled. “Be at ease, friends-of-Arashk. We intend fair dealing. We value your friendship more than your strength of arms. Whatever your past, your present shows you to be a clan of powerful humans who are their own masters. Presently, this is very dangerous to you, because it is dangerous to the x’qai.

“But what is dangerous to the x’qai is very valuable to us. So, if you are as honorable as Arashk has judged, and we treat you as friends now, it is to be hoped that you will treat us as friends when you come into your greater power. For we have no doubt that you shall do just that.”

Riordan nodded so deeply that he was almost in a sitting bow. “You do us honor.”

Ulchakh returned the gesture. “As you do us.” His reply and movement had the fluidity of a ritual. When he straightened, he waved northward. “The flat tops are legend not because of their shape, but because it is said that in times past, there was much salvage to be found in such structures. Many lieges grew strong by sending their humans to extract wonders from those ruins. But some structures were beyond their ability to enter, there being no gaps or cracks through which they could enter the otherwise sealed vaults of the past.”

He gestured to the vacc suit collar peeking out above the folds of the robe which had gapped since Riordan entered the tent. “Arashk told us of your numbers and equipment. It matches what we heard of a similar number and type of unsworn reapers who had just recently entered Forkus through the precincts that answer to the Adbruz Consortium. And I thought, above all others, they will know how to enter the flat tops if it is at all possible. They will also be more likely to understand and fix whatever wonders might lie within them. And if we have reason to believe that they will thus become our true friends, then we would be fools not to be theirs now: that their growth might amplify our own.”

Riordan nodded. Bactradgaria was a backward and savage planet, but the concept of mutual enlightened benefit had somehow survived. He began to stand.

But Ulchakh held up his long, grey hand. “Do you not wish some details of the deed that you must yet perform?”

Riordan managed to resist narrowing his eyes. And here’s the small print. “So there’s another part to this agreement?”

Ulchakh nodded somberly. “Yes. I presumed something might have been mentioned to you. We have a mutual friend who often aids Kosvak and who, within reason, shall fund your purchases here. Through that friend’s peer Vranadoc, he learned that one of Kosvak’s h’achgai bands on the north bank are in imminent danger of attack by a nearby gang of praakht. If someone does not intercede very soon, my kinfolk will be killed.”

Riordan remained calm. Tasvar, I told you that we are not executioners. But all he said was. “You seem very certain of that sad outcome.”

“I am. The praakht gang leader has recently acquired a very valuable asset which he means to trade in exchange for many warriors and weapons. Once he has done so, he will be too powerful for Kosvak’s h’achgai to resist.” He folded his hands and waited.

Great. “Ulchakh, I fear there may have been a misunderstanding. With all respect, we wish to help you and your friends, but our swords are not for sale to the highest bidder.”

“And we are not asking that they be so.”

“But you said—”

“My apologies. I failed to explain adequately. Kosvak does not propose to pay you for attacking. He is, through me, suggesting that eliminating this threat will also achieve a goal that is very important to you.”

“Which is?”

“Why, rescuing the other stranger who’s dressed as you are. The first one who arrived on a boat.”

Duncan jerked forward. “Wait: is he the valuable asset?”

“Most certainly. He is your friend, is he not?”

Riordan looked at Duncan, heard the tense, eager mutters of the Crewe. “He is indeed our friend, Ulchakh. Very much so.”

“Excellent. Then I shall acquaint you with what I know of his circumstances . . . ”


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