Donn: Sadiki

“Kandoro sure likes flowers, doesn’t he?” laughed Hafsah. Kandoro and Nelchaka, playing side by side on the blanket, burbling happily at the little wildflowers waving in the breeze, or crawling after the occasional butterfly that wandered by.

The two baby boys were about the same age and size, although Nelchaka was mostly pink and tan while Kandoro was almost black. Nelchaka, born to Khemite Hafsah and Surala Tokarra of Dylath-Leen, was currently most interested in putting things into his mouth—fingers, rocks, grass, and teacups, especially—while Sadiki’s child seemed to prefer furry things. Since a whole pack of dogs roamed the house and land, he never had trouble finding one to snuggle up to.

The dogs didn’t mind, of course… they suffered the babies of the family without complaint, content to serve as babysitters, herders, or guards, as the situation required. As the babies grew older, the dogs enjoyed the rough-and-tumble as much as the children.

Sadiki was enjoying the early spring, too… after escaping from her slave master the previous year with her newborn infant, she had fled to House Penia and Donn’s family for safety, trusting her life and baby’s life to the rumors of hope that circulated among the slaves.

She’d been lucky: she somehow managed to reach House Penia on her own in spite of pursuers sent by Garood, her former master, traveling unknown paths through the forest between Dylath-Leen and the valley of House Penia. Pensri and the whole village had protected her then, and she had gradually relaxed and recovered in the quiet of the valley.

Many of the villagers were ex-slaves or their families, and the whole valley came together to protect slaves from pursuers as needed. They’d all come to protect her that day.

It wasn’t home, though…

The winter had been hard on Sadiki. Her homeland, Parg, was mostly hot and jungled, and she’d never even seen falling snow until she’d been kidnapped by the slavers and dragged off to Dylath-Leen. Mountains and snow and broad pastures full of sheep were lovely, she had to admit, but it simply didn’t feel like home.

She sighed again, and ran her fingers over the single carnelian set into her cheek. It was given to her in a ceremony held by women only, on her first blood. She would have gotten her second stone only a week or so after she’d been kidnapped, marking her acceptance into the sisterhood as an adult, marriageable woman. And now she should really have a third, for childbirth, at least. If things had turned out differently she might even have a fourth for marriage, but that was all a distant dream now.

“You miss your family?”

Sadiki nodded.

“They killed my father, of course, but my mother and sisters and—well, and my whole family—they’re all still there, in Zretazoola.

“You saved us, and I am more grateful than I can put into words, but this is not my home, try as I might.”

Hafsah silently laid her hand atop Sadiki’s, squeezed gently.

“Donn and Hakim are discussing their trading trip now, you know. They say they’ll take Jasque with them this time… maybe they can escort you back to Parg?”

“Oh, do you think so? That would be so wonderful!” Sadiki clapped her hands in excitement. “I mean, you have all been so kind to me, and it is so peaceful and quiet here, but…”

“I know. But this is not home,” reassured Hafsah. “Let’s talk to the others tonight.”

“Are you sure it’s alright? I don’t want to…”

“Yes, I’m sure. You must choose your own path, Sadiki.”

Sadiki nodded, then hugged her.

They talked about it at the evening meal that same day.

“Parg?” said Donn. “That’s one of the places we’ve been thinking of going on this trip. We don’t usually spend much time there because most of the profitable trade is locked up by Pargite traders, and we can only deal with the small entrepreneurs, which means lower volume and less money. Still, it’s easy enough to visit Parg first on this journey.”

“Have to be careful getting Sadiki and Kandoro there, though… Garood is still hunting her, I’m sure, and probably the Sisters, too.”

“And we can’t depend on the Dylath-Leen guard to protect us outside the city…”

Hakim signed something.

“What? Hafsah?” said Donn. “Hmm… that might work.

“Hakim says we might leave with Hafsah and Nelchaka, and expect to be stopped. After they verify that we don’t have Sadiki with us, then she switches places with Sadiki somewhere.”

“If you take her to Dylath-Leen first to pick up your goods they’ll all follow you,” said Pensri. “I can take Sadiki up north and ford the Skai, then cut down and meet you somewhere between the Skai and Mt. Thurai, say.”

“That would work,” agreed Donn. “Hakim, what do you think?”

Hakim nodded agreement, and signed again.

“He suggests we meet at Poranto, because he knows the villagers and they hate slavers as much as we do.”

“I’ve only been there once,” said Pensri. “Shu?”

“Yeah, I know the way, I can go with you,” he nodded. “Figure a two-day trip, I think, if nothing goes wrong, but pretty long days in the saddle.”

“Sadiki, are you up for a long ride with Kandoro?”

“If I can return to my family, I can ride all week,” she smiled.

“Let’s do it, then! Everybody?”

Nobody dissented.

“Hakim and I will go over the goods later, and we’ll ride into Dylath-Leen to check with Chóng’s factor. The usual goods are salt, Baharna porcelain, and Oriab silk. They deal direct with Ulthar and Hatheg so there’s no point in taking any of their textiles with us, except to trade off later… what else?”

He looked at Hakim’s flying fingers.

“Oh, yes, of course. Apples, if there are enough, and our wine!

“Might be quite a load… the wine in particular is a heavy, awkward load.”

“Where would you go from there?”

“Into Khem, I think,” replied Donn. “Pick up a load of ivory in Parg, along with ebony and some fragrant woods… another heavy load. Might have to hire some help in Parg.”

“So you’ll be gone until summer, at least, then,” said Pensri as she poured everyone another cup of tea. Donn pulled his teacup back to stop her from refilling it, and poured himself another cup of wine instead.

He looked at Shu and raised an eyebrow, but he declined. Hakim, on the other hand, held out his cup for more.

* * *

A few days later everything was ready.

Donn, Hakim, and Jasque would lead a team of twelve packhorses, loaded with trade goods, and accompanied by Hafsah and baby Nelchaka, a total of sixteen horses. Sefu, Chóng’s factor in Dylath-Leen, would partially underwrite the venture, sending two guards along to safeguard it as far as Zretazoola, the largest of the several city-states in Parg.

Once they reached Zretazoola, the two would collect Sefu’s share in ivory and take it back to Dylath-Leen, leaving Donn and the trading party to fend for themselves. Donn and Hakim had been through Zretazoola and a number of other cities in Parg, and had found them no more dangerous than most other places in the Dreamlands… they were used to it.

Sefu had assured them that the two guards could be trusted. Donn didn’t mention that they’d be meeting up with Sadiki during the journey, and that she was an escaped save, and Sefu didn’t ask, but he’d worked with Donn and House Penia long enough to know that if Donn said they needed guards who could keep their mouths shut, he had a good reason.

The three of them—Donn, Hafsah, and Jasque—would visit Chóng’s warehouses in Dylath-Leen, and a few of their own suppliers, arranging to pick up wares for sale or trade in Parg, or in Khem later. Donn and Jasque would bring horses from their own farm, load them up here with goods from the city and ride west toward the River Skai. Hakim, meanwhile, would load up his own group of packhorses with their wine in the tough, heavy barrels their winery used.

To prevent the wine from spoiling in transit due to microbial action they always made offerings and prayers to Mycelia the Spore-Mother and goddess of fermentation, beseeching her to protect the wine as she had helped make it from grapes in the first place. As the goddess in charge of fermentation and all sorts of microbial action, Mycelia was very important to the wine and cheese output of House Penia, and over the years had almost become the family’s patron goddess.

In smaller quantities Chóng was already bottling wine in glass bottles with corks, but glass bottles were time-consuming and expensive to make, especially in quantity. Wooden barrels were a perfectly satisfactory answer, as long as the wine was protected from unwanted microbes.

Cheap wine was still sold immediately after harvest, but for those with a bit more gold to spend, Donn’s wine was famous for both its taste and the fact that it didn’t turn to vinegar in a month.

At last, everything was ready.  

“Safe journey, Donn,” said Pensri, giving him a kiss as he leaned down from the saddle. Everyone was there to say goodbye with the exception of Sadiki and her son, who were hiding inside, and would remain there until it was time for them to sneak out with Shu and Pensri. Mahelt had even left the house for the first time in days to see her son off.

“I’m so proud of you, Jasque!”

She was tearing up as she hugged him. “You’ve grown into such a tall boy… No, you’re a man now, aren’t? Pay attention to Master Donn, and come back safely, you hear?”

“Yes, mother,” he replied, trying to look cool and collected. “I know. I’ll be safe!”

“I have a gift for you, Jasque,” she said, handing him a heavy-looking leather bag. He took it hesitantly.

“Well, go ahead,” said Donn. “Open it!”

He carefully loosened the cord and pulled it open, then pulled out the small wooden case from inside, marked with the rose insignia of King Kuranes.

“Is this…?”

Donn and Pensri beamed as he opened it to reveal a small scale and a set of standard weights. Every professional trader had a set, to check weights of gold and silver against the standardized weights set by King Kuranes. Not everyone used his standard, but in almost every transaction buyer and seller would check each other’s weights to be sure they were close enough. The precious metal content of the most common coins was known, especially the newer gold “crowns” and silver “tiaras” that the King issued, making it possible to set prices in grams of gold or silver rather than coins of unknown value—the Dreamlands, of course, was awash in coins from every era that ever was, and quite a few that never were.

“Treat it with care, Jasque. You’ll need it,” cautioned Donn.

His eyes shining, Jasque nodded, and hugged Pensri.

“Thank you, mama! I… It’s beautiful!”

He turned to Donn and gave him a hug, too.

“You bought that, didn’t you?”

“Me? Nonsense! Entirely her idea,” he denied, and turned to the side. “Hakim, we’ll meet you at Yig’s Bane the day after tomorrow. “If you get there first, go ahead and cross, and we’ll meet you on the other side.”

Hakim nodded. He would load up the barrels of wine, and a few kegs of brandy, and ride directly to the River Skai tomorrow. One of Sefu’s guards would come to the house tomorrow morning and ride with him, while the other would meet Donn and Jasque in Dylath-Leen when they loaded up the other packhorses.

Hafsah was sitting on a chestnut mare next to Donn, with baby Nelchaka in a sling across her breast. She was dressed in the Pargite style: loose robes in bold, clashing colors, with a hood hiding most of her face and hair.

Garood would find out that Donn and some Parg woman had left House Penia, and no doubt send slave-catchers immediately to bring his escaped slave—Sadiki—back.

The idea was that his watchers would follow Donn and Hafsah, and if they left anyone behind that person would no doubt follow Hakim and the wine, making it possible for Pensri and Shurala to escort the real Sadiki and her baby over the hills and through the back ways to reach one of the less-used fords of the River Skai upstream, and then to the village of Poranto.

With luck, Sadiki could join Donn’s party there safely, on the edge of the Pargite jungle, and only a few day’s travel from Sadiki’s home in Zretazoola.

“Pensri, you be careful, too,” cautioned Donn. “It looks like Garood’s only got two men watching us, but you might run into other dangers along the way.”

“We’ll be riding light on fast horses, Donn,” she replied. “and Shu’s been over that route countless times. I’ve been as far as the ford myself many times. We’ll be fine.”

Donn looked to Shurala, who nodded. “Safe journey, Donn.”

“Safe journey, Shu.”

He snapped the reins and rode through the main gate, where Sefu’s guard was waiting. Donn knew him from previous encounters.

“Good morning, Trooper Oltahm.”

“Morning, Master Donn, Mistress Hafsah” said the guard, a Khemite with weather-worn bronze skin and thinning salt-and-pepper hair. He had a longsword hanging from his saddle, and a shield on his back.

“Good to see you again, Trooper Oltahm,” said Hafsah. “Good weather for a ride.”

“That it is, Mistress. Who’s the tyke?”

“My Nelchaka,” she said. “His first trip out of the valley!”

“You hang onto him, and let me and Master Donn worry about the trip.”

“Nelchaka always comes first for me,” she smiled. “Thank you.”

“And this is Jasque, one of our boys,” broke in Donn. “Jasque, Trooper Oltahm is one of Factor Sefu’s most trusted guards. We’ve worked together, oh, must be over a dozen times, I’d guess.”

“Jasque of Penia,” the young man said, possibly for the first time in his life.

“Oltahm of Dylath-Leen,” said the other, and they cantered off, down the road toward the village center, toward Dylath-Leen. They were leading half a dozen packhorses; Hakim would use the other six to carry the barrels of wine.

With no loads to carry, they’d probably make Dylath-Leen in the late afternoon.

They rode through the village, exchanging greetings with people they knew. The main street was rarely straight, winding around houses, fields, or big trees, but of course it ran past the Nest. They couldn’t see Headmistress Kiarna, but as usual there were several children playing in the open atrium. A combination nursery, school, and orphanage, the Nest was built as a hollow square enclosing an open ground in the middle, protecting the children while simultaneously preventing them from running off somewhere. Many of the families of House Penia brought their children here, some just when they were busy, others every day, but the Nest was the social center for everyone who lived in the valley.

“Off again, Master Donn?”

“Good day to you, Master Obuje,” nodded Donn. “It’s spring and time to get back to work, I’m afraid… getting bored watching sheep every day!”

“Never could understand what you find so interesting outside the valley,” said the other, shaking his head. “Me, I’m happy right here.”

“We’re all glad you are here, Master Obuje. Village’d be lost without a master smith like you.”

“Where’s Hakim?”

“Jasque and I are off to the city to pick up some trade goods, and we’ll meet up with Hakim later, down by the river. He’ll be packing wine, and it’s just too heavy to lug all that way and back again.”

“So Master Jasque is going with you this time?”

“He’s tired of counting sheep, too… it’s about time for him to see what the world’s like out there.”

“He’s what, seventeen? Eighteen? Stay here, find a nice girl, raise a family… the world out there’s not fit for man nor beast.”

Jasque laughed uncomfortably.

“I’ll be back, Master Obuje. The valley is home.”

“Well, safe journey to you both.”

“Thank you, Master, and to you.”

The buildings grew fewer, the fields broader, and the trees thicker, until they finally were in the forest entirely. The dirt road was fairly well-traveled, and packed hard enough to defeat most of the weeds, but Donn knew it well enough to walk it blindfolded anyway.

“Jasque, why don’t you ride up here next to Hafsah and me.”

“Shouldn’t I stay in the middle to keep an eye on the packhorses?”

“Trooper Oltahm is bringing up the rear. I want you up here with me for a while.”

Obviously curious, Jasque rode to join Donn at the front.

“Why?”

“I expect we’ll be having some visitors soon enough, and it’d be safer up here for a bit.”

He turned back to look at Oltahm, who nodded and settled his shield into a more comfortable position on his back. Not only was it easier to carry that way, it helped protect him from arrows.

The road would run through scattered forest and grassland for several hours. A few lonely homesteads spotted the way, hardy pioneers who preferred the wilderness, even with its dangers, to the more populated areas closer to Dylath-Leen.

Donn knew a few of them, and waved greetings as he rode past their fields or pastures.

They were riding fairly slowly to save the horses, even though the packhorses carried little or no loads. They were not in any special hurry, and the road was unlikely to be very dangerous this close to the big city. They’d need their strength tomorrow when they were loaded up with salt and the other cargo.

After a few hours Donn called a halt, and they stopped for lunch near a small stream.

They roped the horses to nearby trees so they could reach both lush spring grass and running water, and sat down to enjoy their own lunch—bread from the village baker, home-made cheese, cold roast mutton, and a few apples for dessert.

After everyone had rested a bit, they got ready for the rest of their ride.

The road would begin to wind through small villages and towns now as it approached the big city, and they’d be sharing it with other riders, or carriages.

“Everyone ready?”

“All ready,” replied Hafsah, adjusting her sling one more time.

Then they heard horse’s hooves from ahead.

Donn held up his hand and placed his hand on his sword as Oltahm cantered up to join the others at the head of the string of packhorses.

“Master Donn, I see you’re on your way to Dylath-Leen,” came a man’s voice.

“State your name!”

“Bokorh of Dylath-Leen,” the other replied, and rode his horse out into plain view. Behind him were three others, two men and a woman, all armed.

“We have a warrant to recover stolen property,” said Bokorh. “A slave by the name of Sadiki, with a baby.”

“I own no slaves,” retorted Donn. “Let us pass.”

“Not with that slave.”

“That is my wife, not a slave!”

“This warrant says otherwise.”

Donn turned to Hafsah, whose face was hidden in her hood.

“Hafsah, would you name yourself to these ruffians?”

She drew back her hood, revealing her Khemite complexion. She was obviously not the Pargite they were looking for.

Bokorh spat.

“And the babe?”

Hafsah silently held up her boy, revealing that he was not a Pargite, either.

“Now may we pass?” asked Donn sarcastically.

“We’ll get her, you know,” said Bokorh. “Garood wants his property back, and we aim to get it for him.”

“I have no slaves,” snapped Donn, and kicked his horse into a trot.

The others followed suit, and the four slave-catchers just sat on their horses and watched them ride away toward Dylath-Leen.

They’ll get word to Garood well before we get there, thought Donn, and they’ll be watching the house. Then they’ll follow Hakim tomorrow, expecting Sadiki to be hidden in one of those wine barrels… by which time she’ll be safely over the mountain with Pensri and Shu.

I hope.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

It had worked so far, thank goodness. He’d been worried that Garood might just set up an ambush looking for Sadiki, but it seemed Garood—or at least his man Bokorh—was unwilling to stir up that much trouble this close to the city.

“Now you can fall back, Jasque. It should be safe from here on.”

“You expected them?”

“I knew they’d stop us somewhere. I’m just glad it ended as well as it did.”

“And Sadiki?”

“Hush, boy. No need to talk about her at all until we’re back home again.”

* * *

They reached Dylath-Leen in the late afternoon, riding through the northern gate and into the walled city.

Built mostly of basalt and surrounded by a forbidding, black wall and thin angular towers, the dark streets of Dylath-Leen were not very inviting, but it was one of the four major trading ports together with Celephais, Pungar-Vees, and Rinar.

He knew a great many people here and would be meeting a number of them that night or the following day. The most important was, unquestionably, the current ruler of the city: Factor Bertram.

He was one of about half a dozen immensely rich traders who ran the city as the City Council. In theory the Council discussed and set policy as equals, but in fact things were always controlled by one person, or occasionally, one clique. They constantly fought amongst themselves, usually only with words and money, less frequently with swords, and the nominal ruler could change without warning as one trader or another assumed control.

Chóng’s man here, Factor Sefu, had never been one of those chosen few, but instead maneuvered around on the outside, helping or hindering the top traders to advance his own agenda. Garood was also not one of the controlling traders, but as undisputed ruler of the city’s foul underbelly he held his own power.

They headed for the inn Donn always used: the waterfront Drunken Mermaid. Donn and the innkeeper, a Kiran-born man named Kōji, had known each other for many years, and worked with each other often. As an ex-slave himself, Kōji did his best to help slaves escape the city, helping them reach House Penia and relative safety.

“Master Donn! It’s been too long! Come in! And Mistress Hafsah with little Nelchaka… and who is this splendid young man with you?”

“Jasque of Penia. I’m journeying with Master Donn this year.”

“Master Jasque! But you were just a little boy last we met!”

“They grow, you know,” smiled Donn. “Jasque, you can trust Master Kōji. Completely.”

“How long are you staying?”

“Just one night, I’m afraid… Can Hafsah stay here with you for now? Jasque and I have some people to see, and goods to purchase.”

“Of course, of course,” laughed Kōji. “Sachiko will be delighted to see the baby. We’ll take good care of her for you.”

Donn and Kōji exchanged a wrist-shake, and then they got back up in the saddle and rode to meet Factor Sefu.

“Trooper Oltahm, there won’t be any problems here in the city, especially now that they know Sadiki’s not with us. Can you meet us back here tomorrow morning?”

“I have to see the factor anyway, so I’ll ride with you that far.”

“Things went a lot smoother than I expected, back there. Glad you were along, though.”

“Always nice to settle things peacefully,” agreed Oltahm.

The factor was located on the waterfront as well, but behind the warehouses of the biggest traders. He worked for Chóng, not for himself, and was content to remain one of the smaller players in the rough-and-tumble politics of the city. Working for an outsider as he did, he enjoyed the advantage of being able to move in many different circles, but simultaneously the disadvantage of never being fully trusted.

He and Donn got along excellently, however, and most of Donn’s trade goods were already waiting for him when he arrived.

“Master Donn, glad to see you made it safely,” said the factor, greeting them at the door.

The floor of the warehouse was bustling as always, with carts of goods being moved in and out by Sefu’s people. Sefu had been arguing with somebody trying to deliver a cartload of ale barrels; it seemed the number of barrels on the cart was one short.

“Betsy, take over, would you?” said the factor, leaving the settlement to one of his seconds and walking with Donn.

“Come upstairs, Master Donn, so we can talk in private. This is your boy?”

“Yes, Jasque.”

“Sefu of Parg.”

“Jasque of Penia.”

“So you’ll be heading to Parg first. I’d like to go back myself one of these days, but…”

“Are you from Zretazoola?” asked Jasque.

“No, no, just a little village out in the jungle,” he laughed. “Zretazoola was the enormous city we were in awe of… and now look at me! Dylath-Leen!”

Oltahm took his leave and headed for the barracks, while Sefu led Donn and Jasque upstairs.

His office was in the center of the floor, surrounded by rattan screens that provided partial privacy but also made it possible to see if anyone was unduly close and might be listening. Different factors had different ideas about secrecy and how to preserve it, and as long as their ideas worked, Chóng was happy to leave it up to them.

He waved them to a wide, very low sofa, and sat in the short-legged wooden chair himself. Seconds after he sat down a boy, probably a teenager, Donn thought, came in with a tray holding spiced wine, cups, and some sweetcakes. He knelt and silently poured each of them a cup of wine, setting them on the table, each with a sweetcake on a plate beside it.

“Thank you, Nels. That will be all for now,” said Sefu, and the boy half-bowed and left.

Sefu picked up his cup and invited Donn and Pasque to help themselves.

Once Nels was far enough away, he set his cup down, picked up a sweetcake, and sat back in the chair.

“Oltahm tells me you met Garood’s men on the way. All went smoothly, I gather?”

“So far, everything’s going as planned,” said Donn. “Some thug named Bokorh and three of his friends, but once they saw I had Hafsah with me, they stopped. I’m sure they’ve told Garood by now, and he’s certainly watching the house.”

“He’s a dangerous man,” mused Sefu. “but of course you already know that. Hard to tell what he might do, but he has quite a reputation for hurting people who steal from him. And from his point of view, you—or at least House Penia—have stolen from him.”

“We’ve crossed swords several times over the years, figuratively speaking, but he’s not really any worse than the usual robbers we meet on the road. And here in Dylath-Leen we’ve got protection from Factor Bertram.”

“Bertram’s still in charge, and as long as he’s in charge you’re safe,” said Sefu. “I haven’t heard of any serious plots against him, but who knows what the other factors might do.”

“You’ve never thought of moving up into that group?”

“Goodness no. I couldn’t afford to hire all those guards and tasters!”

Sefu handed over the list of trade goods.

“We’ve got it all waiting for you downstairs, but I wonder if I can ask you to add another packhorse for me? I got a special request for a Moung spider-silk robe some months ago, and it arrived just yesterday.

“Things being what they are, I’m thinking maybe I could just add another guard instead of paying you the usual commission…”

Donn turned to Jasque, who had been sitting silently absorbing the conversation.

“He has to pay his guards whether they do anything or not, so sending a guard with me costs him nothing extra, but paying me commission would cut into his profit directly.”

Sefu just grinned.

“Deal?”

Donn nodded. “Deal. This time’s special, though so don’t get used to it!”

Sefu picked up a tiny bell from the table and rang it once.

Nels was there in seconds.

“Tell Oltahm to pick another guard to accompany Master Donn to Zretazoola. Oltahm remains in charge of our people.”

“Yes, Factor,” nodded the boy, and ran off.

“Good kid. Smart, knows when to shut up and when to speak his mind. I picked him up off the street a few years ago after I saw him talk his way out of arrest down on the wharf. I also saw him steal the goods, but he kept his wits about him, got the stuff hidden fast and proper, and gave the guards a positively masterful story. They believed it, and I snagged him when he came back for the loot later.”

“So never a slave, then.”

“Probably not. Never knew his parents, but he’s got no brands and he’s been roaming the wharfs for years. Just another abandoned kid, as far as anyone knows.”

Donn looked up from checking the trade goods.

“Looks good, Factor, thank you.

“About that extra horse, though… make it two. I’d like to run them in pairs, and it won’t hurt to have a spare packhorse along, just in case.”

“That’s easy enough. You’ll send them both back from Zretazoola?”

“Yes, with Trooper Oltahm and your ivory.”

“Excellent,” said Sefu. “To another successful journey, then!”

“To a successful journey,” echoed Donn and Jasque, and they drank down their wine.

They left the packhorses in Factor Sefu’s warehouse and headed toward the city center, where the buildings grew higher and fancier. Donn had a large ruck on his back.

Donn had to call on Factor Bertram, the most powerful man in the city, and reaffirm their “close friendship,” which actually meant passing him a healthy bribe. In return for bribes at regular intervals, Bertram made sure that the Sisters of Mercy and Garood didn’t do anything rash about House Penia, even when slaves escaped and fled there. As long as House Penia didn’t interfere with Dylath-Leen, Dylath-Leen wouldn’t interfere with them, and any fleeing slaves would have to look after themselves.

If Bertram were ever toppled things might change abruptly, and for the worse, but they’d been making plans for that eventuality, too. For now, in any event, paying a visit to Factor Bertram was the right thing to do.

“Bertram’s estate is heavily guarded, as you might expect, and they’ll search us. Just stay silent and stay close.”

Jasque nodded, ill at ease.

This was not only his first trading journey with Donn, but also his first time to meet the movers and shakers.

Bertram’s estate was surrounded by a three-meter basalt wall with guards walking the perimeter, and up on top as well. They were a cut above Bokorh and the rest of Garood’s thugs, armed and acting like professional soldiers, which no doubt they were. The gateway was open, the steel portcullis raised to allow easier passage, but four guards at the gate and more inside made it clear any intruder would have a tough time getting in. The rope holding the portcullis could be cut in a few seconds as needed, too.

Donn walked straight up gate, and stopped before the guards there even had to order him to.

“Donn of Dylath-Leen to pay my respects to the Factor. I bring my son, Jasque of Penia.”

“Master Donn, Master Jasque,” said the man in charge. “Does he know you’re coming?”

“No, I don’t think so, not this time.”

“Hold while I find out.”

The man turned to look at the men inside the estate, and shouted to one: “Donn of Dylath-Leen and son to see the Factor.”

One of the guards there waved, and trotted off toward the dark keep.

She was back a minute later, and whistled to attract the gate-keepers’ attention. When they turned, she waved Donn and Jasque in, and the guards at the gate let them pass.

As soon as they were inside they were searched and their weapons taken, to be laid on a nearby table. She looked in his ruck and chuckled as she handed it back.

“You know the drill… pick the gear up on the way out,” said the woman. She was still armed, of course, sword and dagger.

“Thank you, uh, Cyndara, wasn’t it?”

“Cyndaria, but close enough. And thank you!” she said, smiling. “This way.”

She led them through a fairly small gate into the keep, and down a short hall to a room with carpeted floor and stunning tapestries on the walls. The window was only a tiny arrowslit, but a sunstone suspended from the ceiling made the room as bright as day.

Cyndaria bowed and left. The lock on the door clicked when she closed it.

“A sunstone!” breathed Jasque.

“Yes, a sunstone, now be quiet.”

Jasque stopped gawking and tried to copy Donn’s stance… he was standing facing the door, hands clasped in front, just waiting.

The door rattled and squeaked, and another soldier stepped inside.

“Master Donn. Good to see you’re still hale.”

“Captain Tenuk. Another year, another trading journey.

“This is my son, Jasque of Penia.”

Jasque gave a half bow, and the soldier responded with “Tenuk of Oxuhahn.”

“Captain Tenuk is the Factor’s right-hand man. Sometimes both hands.”

“I just try to let the Factor enjoy his days without undue interruptions,” Tenuk chuckled, “but he should be here shortly.”

“So I’m unexpected but not undue, then…”

Tenuk was about to reply when the door opened again and Factor Bertram stepped in.

“Donn. How nice to see you again,” he said, rather mechanically.

“Factor Bertram, thank you for making time to see me. I appreciate how busy you are, but wanted to introduce my son, Jasque.”

“Jasque of Penia,” he said, bowing nicely.

“A pleasure,” said the Factor, instead of the more polite form of self-introduction.

“Since I stopped by I thought you might enjoy a bottle of wine, and a wheel of our best cheese, Factor. I brought them from House Penia this morning.”

“Ah, thank you, Donn. Yes, very nice,” said the Factor as he accepted the bottle of wine and the cloth bag holding the cheese. He glanced inside the bag and then put it down on the table with the wine.

“Well, if that’s all…”

“Of course, Factor, my apologies for bothering you unexpectedly like this. Thank you for making time to see us!”

“No, quite alright, quite alright,” the Factor replied as he left the room again.

Tenuk waited until the sound of the Factor’s footsteps had receded down the hall before speaking.

“Well, that went well. This time.”

“Yes, thank you,” said Donn. “And here’s a little wine for you as well, Captain Tenuk.”

He pulled out a second bottle identical to the first. Glass bottles were all handmade, and thanks to Chóng’s use of corks to minimize spoilage, the wine was delicious.

“Always a pleasure, Master Donn,” smiled Tenuk. “This way.”

He led them back to the gate, where they recovered their weapons and left the estate.

As they walked down the narrow road, Jasque couldn’t restrain his curiosity any longer.

“I thought he was quite rude back there… are they all like that?”

“Don’t say that, don’t even think it very loudly,” chided Donn. “When you wield that amount of power you can be as rude as you like. Or as polite, depending on circumstance.”

“What did the Captain mean when he said it went well this time?”

“If the Factor is in a bad mood, meetings can be… unpleasant. And especially if he’s upset by something I was involved in.”

“But he still appreciates our wine and cheese!”

Donn chuckled.

“I doubt it, although he might drink the wine. He was more interested in what was in the bag with the cheese.”

“What was in the bag…?”

“There were a hundred gold crowns in there, Jasque.”

“A hundred…!”

“Quiet, lad!” shushed Donn. “We have a deal: he gets a share of the profits, and House Penia gets protection from Garood and other slave-catchers.”

“But they still came to take Sadiki, and met us on the road!”

“He can’t control everything, but he makes sure that House Penia isn’t attacked or burned to the ground. I consider that a good investment even if we do have to take care of Garood and the Sisters of Mercy by ourselves.”

Jasque was silent for a moment as he digested this information.

“Do they really hate us that much?”

“Oh, they don’t hate us at all, Jasque. They just make too much money off slaves to want to ever give it up, and we’re in the way, that’s all.”

As they continued down the narrow, twisting street, Donn suddenly stopped at a small doorway in a wall.

The doorway opened up onto an even narrower alley, which ran for a few meters than turned out of sight.

They walked down the alley, and around the bend it opened up into an open space with a temple.

It was deserted, as far as Jasque could see, but there was a small, low table in front of the temple with an incense stand, and several sticks of incense still smoking.

Donn knelt in front of the table, lit a stick of incense and stuck it upright into the burner ash, and bowed his head in a silent prayer.

When he was done he pulled out a handful of coins, checked them briefly and removed two small ones, and dropped the rest into the dish. He rose and waved Jasque to do the same.

“What is this place?” asked Jasque after he was done.

“Look inside,” suggested Donn. “Don’t go inside, just look.”

Jasque stepped around the incense table and looked into the gloom. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust, then he suddenly jumped back in surprise.

“Skulls! Piles and piles of skulls!”

“The skulls of dead slaves, of discarded women and children, of debtors who paid for their poverty with their lives. This is the Temple of the Unwanted, where we pray for those we never knew.”

“There must be thousands of them…” Jasque whispered.

“Far more,” said Donn. “Under the Temple stretch catacombs, with the skulls of centuries upon centuries of the Unwanted.”

“Who cares for them?”

“Everyone, and no-one. Those who know, and care.”

“Who pays for the incense?”

“People bring incense, or leave money on the table. There are no Godsworn, no gods, just the memories of the dead.”

“Nobody steals it?”

“Not even Garood would think of stealing that money.”

“I… can I leave some money, too?”

“Of course, Jasque. As much as you like.”

Donn waited while Jasque returned to the table to light another stick of incense, and drop a few coins of his own.

“Thank you, Jasque. They appreciate it,” he said, clapping the boy around the shoulder. “And now back to Factor Sefu’s for dinner!”

A few minutes later they were back at the Factor Sefu’s warehouse.

“The woman is in the barracks,” said the guard at the gate. “Evening meal’s at the Hour of the Monkey.”

“Thanks, I know,” said Donn. “Been here many times already.”

They walked to the barracks where most of Sefu’s workers stayed, and found their room. They’d be sharing it with a few other people, mostly women. Modesty was not a very common trait, and sharing a room didn’t bother them—or the women—at all.

After checking that Hafsah and the baby were alright, Donn and Jasque returned to the warehouse to check that the horses had been properly taken care of, and the trade goods to be loaded up in the morning were ready.

As they were checking the packed goods against the list, Oltahm walked up with another guard, a thin blond man.

“Master Donn? Since you’re here, I thought I’d introduce you now.”

“Donn of Dyalth-Leen,” he said, sixing up the other man. Short, thin, armed with a similarly long, thin sword and several throwing axes. Maybe in his late twenties, early thirties, he thought. Looked capable.

“Frode Bjørnsson of Falona,” responded the other.

“You’ve been to Parg before?”

“Several times, lately for Factor Sefu. And years up north, around Jaren and Sinara.”

“We often go through that region, too,” said Donn. “You know Captain Rufe, running on the Xari?”

“Rufe? Yeah, up and down the river a couple times with him, or Captain Falanga.”

Donn had ridden Falanga’s river boat a few times, too.

“Throwing axes are pretty uncommon down here…”

Frode smiled.

“Not unusual up in Lomar, and they give me a little surprise before the bad guys get to within sword range. They’re always surprised how far I can throw ’em.”

Donn chuckled.

“With luck we won’t need any this trip, but good to have them around.”

“We’ll be back first thing in the morning, Master Donn,” said Oltahm, and they left again, Oltahm singing the praises of a certain tavern he was taking Frode to.

“We’ll leave with two guards, and join up with Hakim and the third guard at the river,” said Donn. “Three guards plus the four of us should be enough to keep the little robbers away. Might even scare off real bandits, if we’re lucky.”

“You expect bandits?”

“Not really. At least, not this side of the Skai, anyway… Dylath-Leen has patrols along main roads to Parg, Ulthar, and Carcassonne, and keeps them pretty much under control. In theory Zretazoola has troops patrolling the road to the far side of the Skai, but that’s a long ways for them.”

“Zretazoola’s the biggest city in Parg, right?”

“Well, yes, but there are several other very big cities and a lot of jungle villages that don’t follow anyone’s standard. Zretazoola often has its hands full with other things, and traders from Dylath-Leen get the short end of the stick sometimes. Their own trade caravans are usually well protected, though.”

Jasque finished tying the last bag shut, and dripped wax onto the wire holding it closed before pressing his seal into it. The wire and seal wouldn’t stop anyone would stealing the goods inside, but at least they’d know immediately if anyone had tampered with it. It was a common ploy to steal expensive cargo and replace it with something worthless, but of the same weight and size, and hope that the merchant didn’t even notice until later.

With Sefu’s guards of duty it was unlikely they’d have any problems anyway, but Donn made it a point to do things right every time.

They stopped by their quarters again to pick up Hafsah, who went with them to the mess with little Nelchaka in his sling across her chest.

The mess was mostly empty, only a few scattered people eating their evening meal of soup, roast chicken with some unknown, bland sauce, bread, and rice. Donn noticed a box of tomatoes in the kitchen and asked for a few; the cook was happy to hand them over, saying not many people ate them.

They settled down at an empty table and ate a quiet meal. It was not the tastiest food they had ever eaten, and Donn wondered if he should give the cook a little spice to make his chicken at least somewhat interesting.

“Normally I eat at The Spitting Tabby,” explained Donn. “I’ve been going there for years, and the master knows what I like. Good place to listen to the street talk.”

“But not tonight?”

“Not with a baby, I think… I doubt either the baby or the other patrons would enjoy it.”

After dinner they walked to the closest public bath, which had separate baths for men and women. They left Hafsah at the door to the women’s bath and entered the men’s half, placing their belongings in the locker and keeping the key.

The lockers were made of wood, but they were secured with steel locks and reinforcements, and could be seen clearly from the bath. There was also an attendant at the front, but he was often busy collecting fees or otherwise dealing with patrons, and really couldn’t be trusted to watch the lockers.

Several of the men using the bath were wearing nothing but daggers strapped to their bodies: thighs or arms, usually. Donn and Jasque didn’t bother, and just left everything in the locker.

After a quick scrub the hot water was heavenly, followed by a quick dip in the cold water bath, and they were done. They waited for Hafsah outside, and she joined them shortly.

“Might be our last hot bath for a while,” cautioned Donn. “I hope you made the most of it!”

“It was very nice,” she said. “Not as pretty or clean as our own bath, but nice.”

“Let’s head back, then… we’ll be on the road all day tomorrow, and we’ll need our sleep.”

“I hope Nelchaka heard you!” chuckled Hafsah. “I’ll try to keep him quiet, but…”

“Babies don’t need excuses,” said Donn. “They’re what we’re here for.”

* * *

They rose at dawn, although Nelchaka was up even earlier, followed almost immediately by Hafsah. She managed to keep him mostly quiet, but when he was hungry he wanted everyone to know.

“Run down to the kitchen and make sure they’ve got our lunch, Jasque. Five people.”

“What about breakfast?”

“Go ahead and eat if you like… we’ll be down and join you in a bit.”

Donn helped Hafsah feed and change Nelchaka, and got their gear ready. The majority was still packed, waiting to be loaded up onto the horses again; they’d only taken the minimum with them since the barracks had most of what they needed.

The mess hall was packed and noisy as all sorts of people started their day: clerks, freight-handlers, guards, what looked like a whole ship’s crew, and an assortment of people that Donn couldn’t easily place.

They came in all shapes and sizes, and while everyone was making noise of one sort or another, Donn didn’t see any arguments or fights… Sefu had them well trained, he thought. An inn out in the city would no doubt be as noisy, but also likely to see at least a fight a day.

About half-way through breakfast—a bowl of rice with chicken, eggs, and onions on top, washed down with hot tea—he realized that Sefu was there as well, sitting at a table to one side with a number of his assistants. They were deep in conversation about something, daggers and chopsticks waving through the air as someone emphasized a particular point.

Sefu finally nodded, said something, and stood, catching sight of Donn. He came walking over as the people he’d been sitting with left the mess to get started on the day’s work.

“Factor Sefu,” said Donn, standing to greet him.

“Everything all set?”

“I think so… we checked the goods last night, and met the new guard, Frode. Looks to be a good man.”

“He’s been with me for a few years now. I think you’ll find him quite useful in spite of his small stature… or perhaps because of it.”

“I’ve never learned how to throw an axe properly,” said Donn. “Seems somehow strange…”

Hafsah laughed. “If you want to learn, Donn, I can teach you.”

“You know how to throw axes?”

“It’s not something I need at House Penia much, but yes, I’m pretty good. Maybe this Master Frode and I should have a little competition?”

“Anytime, Mistress, anytime,” came a voice from behind her.

“Ten says Frode wins,” laughed the Factor.

“I’ll take that bet,” replied Donn. “I trust Hafsah.”

“You didn’t even know that she could throw!”

“Doesn’t matter.” Donn shook his head. “If she says she pretty good at it, that’s all I need to know.”

“Now or later?”

“We really need to get started, Factor,” said Donn. “Maybe we can let them work it out when we get to the Skai?”

Factor Sefu shrugged.

“Sure, I’ve no problem with that. Just don’t forget to bring me those ten crowns!”

“Hah! Next time we meet I’ll be collecting, not paying!”

“Safe journey!”

“Thank you, Factor.”

They parted ways, the Factor heading upstairs and Donn and his party to the warehouse, where their horses were waiting.

They checked the seals on the loads and the warehouse workers helped them get the heavy bags of salt balanced and secured on the packhorses. The rest of the freight was much easier to handle, and although the load of Baharna porcelain was large and awkward, it was not terribly heavy because most of it was just straw packing.

Hakim would have the heavier load by far, with all that wine.

The two guards Oltahm and Frode, were waiting, their saddlebags already packed, and horses ready to go.

“How was that tavern, trooper?”

“Very nice, Master Donn, thank you. You should have come along!”

“Maybe next time,” he replied. “You can sleep all day but I have to stay awake!”

“We young don’t need as much sleep as you oldsters.”

“Young!?” broke in Frode. “You’re both so old I’m surprised you can still walk and talk!”

“You’re pretty snippy for a little boy,” said Oltahm, chuckling. “Maybe you forget that arm-wrestling match last night?”

Donn left them to it and finished checking the rest of the loads, the horses’ hooves, belly cinches, and all the countless other things that had to be done properly. Jasque went through it all with him, doing much of the work himself under Donn’s watchful eye.

At last they were all ready.

Donn ran his eye over the small caravan once more: He and Oltahm leading, followed by the eight packhorses—six of his own plus the two from the Factor, with Jasque and Frode Bjørnsson bringing up the rear.

Hafsah would ride up front with Donn for now, but move to the safer center later, after they met up with Hakim at the river.

The road was stonework to the river, laid down centuries ago by one of the many rulers of Dylath-Leen, but on the other side of the bridge a hard-packed dirt road ran through the jungles of Parg. They’d make good time on the stone-paved road, and should be able to meet up with Hakim and get to the village of Poranto well before nightfall.

Pensri, Shu, and Sadiki should already be there.

“The Skai is close to the sea here, and broad and swift,” explained Donn as they took a rest. “There are some fords upstream, but the spring foods often make them impassable, and the only way across is Yig’s Bane.”

“The bridge!”

“You’ve never seen it before, have you?”

“I’ve never been beyond Dylath-Leen before! Yig’s Bane! We’re going to cross it!”

Donn laughed.

“It’s not raining, so it should be a simple ride… just watch your step, and stay away from the edge. If you fall off it’s a long ways down.”

Jasque nodded, already looking ahead, eyes searching for the legendary bridge.

An hour later he could finally see it with his own eyes.

The road had been gradually climbing upward, and ahead of them he could now make out a mass of white bones thrusting up into the sky.

It was the skeleton of a giant snake, lying across the chasm spine-down, ribs sticking up like a picket fence, curving above. The bones shone in the sunlight.

As they got closer he could see the ribcage enclosed the road, made of logs cut and fitted into a relatively flat surface that ran the length of the vertebrae. It was only about two or three hundred meters across the gap, and while the snake’s skeleton ran fairly straight, it sagged in the middle, downhill to the center and then uphill again.

A large fort stood near the foot of the bridge, manned by city guards from Dylath-Leen.

“They keep the road repaired and make sure everyone keeps moving. In theory they’re supposed to defend Dylath-Leen against any invaders, but I can’t see this few really being able to do much if an army came.”

“They could destroy the bridge if they had to, couldn’t they?” asked Jasque.

“Nobody can destroy the bridge. A lot of people have tried to break off pieces of opal—you’ll see why in a minute—and nobody has even made a scar. It can’t be destroyed, or even damaged it seems.”

“Where’d it come from?”

Donn shrugged.

“Who knows? You’ve heard about the head, I assume?”

“Yig’s Head!” His eyes lit up. “Is it here?”

“On the other side. You’ll see it soon enough,” laughed Donn.

One of the guards approached.

“Master Donn! Haven’t seen you here for some time.”

“Good day to you, Sergeant. Still guarding Yig’s Bane, I see.”

“I prefer it to the city, to be honest… volunteered last year. It’s good, clean work out in the air, no city filth to contend with.”

“City filth meaning sewage and people both, I gather.”

“Dylath-Leen has too much of both,” replied the other, smiling.

“My boy Jasque,” said Donn, gesturing.

“Larkuy of Dylath-Leen.”

“Jasque of Penia.”

“I don’t think you’ve met my wife yet, have you?”

“Hafsah of Penia.”

“A bit younger than I remember…”

“You’re thinking of Pensri, my first wife. Hafsah is my fourth.”

“That’s right, you’re in a line marriage, aren’t you? I’d forgotten.”

“We call it an inflorescence, sort of a communal group. But how’s your own son these days?”

“Jien? Fine, fine… he’s a trooper now. City guard. Steady pay, but can’t say too much for the job.”

“It’s kept you in ale for a long time!”

“There is that!” he laughed, and ran his eye over the string of packhorses. “Zretazoola?”

“Yes, and them on into Khem. Be a couple months at least.”

“Oltahm! Is that you back there?”

“Larkuy. Yup, just as far as Zretazoola, though, and then back again with some goods for Factor Sefu.”

“Who’s the new guy?”

“Frode Bjørnsson of Falona,” said Frode, introducing himself.

“Larkuy of Dylath-Leen. You’re riding with a good man, trooper. You can trust Oltahm with anything but your ale.”

“Has Hakim crossed already?”

“Yeah, he went over about an hour ago. Said he’d be waiting for you on the other side,” said Larkuy. “That’s pretty good wine you’re hauling…”

Donn chuckled. “Slipped you a little, did he?”

“Thinking of making it a toll bridge, I am.”

“Why, you do that and I’d have to just make my own bridge!”

“Got your own snake?”

“Plenty of snakes in Parg,” laughed Donn. “Might have to hunt a bit for one this big, though.”

“Good luck with that, Master Donn.”

“So, OK to cross, Sergeant?”

“Yup, should be fine. Road’s dry and almost no carts today. Safe journey!”

“And to you, Sergeant,” said Donn, and turned back to the others.

“Listen up, Jasque, Hafsah! We’re going to dismount and lead the horses across. It’s only about three hundred meters or so, and the road is planked. It slopes down about halfway, then turns up again, but it’s not very steep either way.

“There aren’t any rails to stop you from falling off, so walk carefully! We’ll put blinders on all the horses, but if anything happens, get out of the way of the horses! If they panic they’ll almost certainly go over the edge; be sure you don’t go with them. OK?

“It gets bigger in the middle—probably where the snake’s belly was—and if we meet a cart that’s where we pass. Other horses can just walk past us, the road’s wide enough for at least three horses without touching, so just stay calm and keep your eyes open.

“Any problems?”

Oltahm and Frode were already putting blinders on the horses; they were ready to go in a few minutes.

Oltahm caught Donn’s eye, and gestured silently toward three men standing next to the entrance to the bridge.

Garood’s men.

Donn quickly checked Hafsah to be sure her hood was down, and her face clearly visible. It was.

As long as it was obvious they didn’t have Sadiki with them, Garood’s men wouldn’t bother them. Especially since Donn had just demonstrated he was friends with the sergeant.

The party started across on foot, studiously ignored the three men.

The wooden bridge was as immobile as solid ground, although sometimes the wooden planks creaked and warped under their weight. The grade was slight, and there was no worry about anyone slipping into the river far below, a storm of black rocks and white spray.

Jasque stared at the upthrust ribs as they passed.

In the sunlight they were a bleached white in most places, but he began to see patches of color here and there.

“What’s that?”

“Opal, Jasque. The bone’s turned into opal,” said Donn. “Many, many people have tried to pry a piece of that opal out, and nobody’s done it yet. A piece that big would make a man rich for life… they say the whole thing will collapse if anyone takes a piece, but who knows?”

Jasque gingerly reached out to touch one of opalescent patches. About two-thirds of this rib was shimmering in brilliant greens and reds, flashing in the sun. He reverently reached out to touch it.

“It’s cold…”

“It’s not a skeleton anymore, just rock,” said Donn. “Don’t get so excited you forget where you’re walking, now!”

“I won’t,” replied Jasque, eyes still big with wonder.

They reached the central platform without any difficulty, and Donn held up a hand to wait for a minute as a string of horses approached from the other direction.

“Mistress Wang! Donn of Dylath-Leen.”

“Master Donn! A strange place to meet old friends.”

“Indeed. You’re from Parg, I gather?”

“Left Zretazoola this morning, hope to be in Dylath-Leen by dusk.”

“All clear up ahead, should be an easy ride,” said Donn. “What about Parg?”

“The bridge over the Bawisi is out, I’m afraid. Flood,” replied the old Asian woman. “Have to travel upstream to one of the fords.”

“Thanks for the warning.

“I wonder if I might ask a favor of you, Mistress…”

“A favor, Master Donn?”

“Some of Garood’s men have been following us, and I wonder if you could, hmm, walk slowly and block the way across. Just gain us a little time to get down the road, maybe lose them completely.”

“Garood, you say,” she nodded. “Yes, I think one of my horses is a bit lame. Have to walk her slowly or it might get much worse.”

“Thank you, Mistress. I owe you one.”

“No problem at all, Master Donn. I’ll collect it, never fear!”

He chuckled.

“I never doubted you would, Mistress. Safe journey!”

“Safe journey, Master Donn.”

They passed each other, and began the walk up the gentle incline to the other side. Donn glanced back to see that Mistress Wang had arranged her horses three-abreast, making it impossible for anyone to pass them on the bridge.

“You know a lot of people, Donn,” said Hafsah.

“You meet a lot of people when you’re on the road all the time,” said Donn. “Most of them are good people, but there are a few…”

“How far out of our way is the ford?”

“Well, we’re headed north, to Poranto, and won’t be using that road anyway,” explained Donn. “Have to meet Pensri and Shu.”

The cliff on the far side approached, and they finally crossed from the serpent’s bones onto solid rock. Yig’s Bane ended abruptly, a clean break where the skeleton was cut off… literally. Some meters distant lay the skull of the serpent, as large as a house.

It was half crushed, as if a boot had smashed it into the earth.

Jasque stared at the head, then back at the bridge.

“They cut off the snake’s head, and crushed it under their boot!” he whispered.

“A bit too large for me,” said Donn, nodding to Hakim as he approached from where he’d been waiting. “I’ve done the same thing myself to a snake, now and again. Don’t mind them if they don’t mind me, but sometimes things just don’t work out…”

“But that skull…!” breathed Hafsah. “It’s enormous! Who could possibly…?”

“That’s why they call it Yig’s Bane,” said Donn. “I don’t think anyone knows the true story, but if I have to meet a snake this big I’m glad it’s this one and not a hungry one!

“Hakim, any problems?”

Hakim shook his head.

His packhorses were waiting placidly in the shade of some trees, huge barrels of wine strapped to their backs. They were used to the weight and didn’t mind, as long as nobody was in a hurry.

“Let me light some incense, and then we can get started. Mistress Wang said the bridge was out on the Parg side, so we’ll have to head up to one of the fords. You hear anything more?”

Hakim signed no, and added a comment.

“Sure, come along. I have to show Jasque, too. The horses will be fine with the troopers,” said Donn, and waved his son and Hafsah over.

“Come with me for a minute. See that shrine over there? It’s tradition to light a stick for those who lost their lives crossing, and to give thanks.”

“Give thanks to who?” asked Jasque.

Donn shrugged.

“Don’t know that, either, but if a stick of incense will improve my chances, it’s a good investment.”

The shrine—a small rock with time-worn characters carved into it, standing upright near the serpent’s skull—had a pottery dish full of ash in front of it.

Donn pulled out a few sticks of incense, handed one to each of them, then lit his own from the smoking stick lying on the ash. No doubt Mistress Wang had left it.

Once it was lit he waved it through the air to extinguish the flame, and placed the smoldering stick on the ash. He put his palms together for a moment, eyes closed and head down, then stepped back and motioned Hafsah forward.

She repeated the process, then Jasque. Hakim had given his own prayer earlier.

They walked back to the horses, and told the three guards they were welcome to give their own prayers. Hakim’s guard, a woman named Reciroh of Dylath-Leen, didn’t bother to get up, but the two men who had come with them from the city walked over and gave incense.

Shortly thereafter they started again, north along the Skai.

The river gradually grew quieter as they headed upstream, splitting into multiple tributaries, and they kept following the riverbank northwest toward Mt. Thurai.

Cultivated fields appeared once more, small homesteads surrounded by rice paddies dotting the land. As they passed the saw a few farmers in the distance, bent over their crops.

“That’s Poranto right up ahead,” said Donn. “Hafsah, pull up your hood and make sure its visible. I want you to go inside the hut immediately, and change clothes with Sadiki. Tell her to stay there for now. Got it?”

She nodded, and adjusted her clothing so the colors and pattern would be clearly visible.

“I haven’t seen any sign of them following us, but it never hurts to be careful,” said Oltahm.

“That’s why we’re doing this,” agreed Donn. “Pensri and Shu are hidden in that hut and they’ll stay there with Hafsah until we’re out of sight, and the villagers make sure there’s nobody watching. Then while we take Sadiki to Zretazoola, they can head on back to home.”

“Hope it all works out.”

“Yes, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?

“Well, here we are…”

Donn dismounted and walked up to greet the village chief.

“Chief Korolo! May the Goddess of spring bless your fields.”

“Master Donn, welcome. And may the God of journeying bless you and yours.”

“This is Hafsah, my wife, and Nelchaka.”

“Hafsah of Penia,” she said, loud enough to be heard by anyone who might be listening to their conversation. She made a point of pulling back the baby’s swaddling to show, revealing his pale skin.

“Korolo of Poranto. A beautiful child indeed!” He pointed toward the hut. “My hut is yours.”

She thanked him and vanished into the dark interior.

Hakim unstrapped one of the smaller barrels of wine, and carried it over.

“I thought you might enjoy this, Chief,” said Donn as Hakim set it down nearby.

“Can you stay tonight? As it happens I’ve just received some excellent wine!”

“No, no, we must be back on the road again. On to Zretazoola, as soon as my Hafsah is done in there,” said Donn, gesturing toward the hut. “Babies, you know. Always complicate things.”

“I know, I know,” laughed Chief Korolo. “We have a few on the way here, too. Should be along any day now. It’s spring!”

A woman dressed like Hafsah stepped out of the hut, the baby quiet in her sling. Her hood was up, making it impossible to see who it was. Her hands, supporting the baby, were out of sight in her robe.

“Hafsah, ready to go?”

Without waiting for an answer he helped her up into the saddle, and then mounted his own horse.

“My apologies, Chief. I hear that the bridge over the River Bawisi is out, and we’ll have to try the fords. If we don’t hurry we won’t make Zretazoola by nightfall.”

“Next time, then. Safe journey, Master Donn! Master Hakim!”

“Until next time, Chief Korolo. Enjoy the wine!”

Donn caught Sadiki’s eye as they rode out of the village, checking that everything was okay with her and the baby.

With luck, Hafsah and the others would be home by nightfall, too, after crossing back over the Skai upstream and taking less-traveled roads.

* * *

The air smelled different on this side of the Skai.

Once they’d left Dylath-Leen and the scents of the city behind, they spent the morning walking through mostly open fields or forests, natural scents of trees and earth, accented with occasional whiffs of manure.

Parg was jungle… the sun was split into a million tiny gems of brilliance, sifting through the branches, and often lost entirely into the leafy canopy. The air smelled of rich wet dirt, of flowers, of the profusion of green all around.

The sounds were different, too… gone were the songbirds trilling happiness on fenceposts and the lowing of cattle, replaced by an incredible cacophony of sound that left Jasque breathless with amazement. Squawks and cheeps and grunts from birds and animals unseen; he wondered again and again if some sound had been made by a bird, or some unknown animal.

He caught sight of a monkey once, sitting on a branch to watch them past, absent-mindedly scratching its bright orange fur.

The road was clear, mostly dry mud and old wheel ruts leading between the trees.

The road was even narrower and darker than before, but beams of sunlight still shone through every so often, and weeds were sprouting up in the ruts already.

About half an hour later they could hear the sound of water, and a small river came into sight. The water was almost still, and didn’t look deep.

“Maybe take a rest for a bit before we cross,” suggested Oltahm. “Might be more mud on the other side; wouldn’t hurt to rest the horses a bit first.”

“Good idea,” agreed Donn. “There’s plenty of space here.”

They tied the horses loosely and let them graze, although they left their loads in place.

Frode walked off toward the trees, shifting his sword to the side as he prepared to urinate.

Just before he reached the edge of the clearing the grass exploded up into the air, and long, thin arms whipped up, wrapping themselves around his legs and yanking him backwards and down, down, into the ground.

“N’dara!” shouted Donn, drawing his own sword and leaping forward. “Get back to the river!”

Sadiki grabbed Jasque and pulled him back toward the water.

She was from Parg, and knew the n’dara, the trap-door spiders that lay in wait for unsuspecting prey. Living in burrows as they did, they were rarely found close to open water.

The other two guards, Oltahm and Reciroh, were right behind Donn, racing to save their comrade, but Donn was closest. He rammed his sword into the almost-invisible edge of the plug sealing the thing’s lair, and tried to lever it up.

The guards were at his side in seconds, adding their strength to his, and suddenly it popped open, and the giant spider leapt up and out of the hole, determined to win or die. Swords flashed, lopping off legs and it toppled to the ground, mandibles snapping and seeking flesh only to fall back again as cold steel plunged into its body again and again.

Donn jumped down into the hole and lifted Frode up off the floor, arm around his shoulders.

He was still alive, and grabbed Donn’s tunic in his fist.

“It’s too late… my stomach…”

Donn looked down at his abdomen.

There was a hole through his tunic. The spider had already laid its egg, and it would hatch within hours, producing a grub that would eat Frode alive from the inside out, finally emerging as a new n’dara.

He could cut it out, but then Frode would die anyway, from that wound.

Oltahm landed next to him.

“Frode! Frode!”

He injured man had already drifted into merciful unconsciousness.

Oltahm draw his dagger, tears dripping down his face.

“I’m sorry, Frode. Forgive me.”

He lifted the dagger slowly, reluctantly.

“Let me,” said Donn, pulling the dagger from his hand. “He was your friend.”

He knelt next to Frode and with a single thrust rammed the dagger into his heart.

They sat in silence for a few minutes until a shadow reminded them of the outside world.

Donn glanced up to see Reciroh looking down.

“You alright?”

They slowly stood.

“Yeah… we’re alright,” said Oltahm. “Frode will be staying here, though.”

Reciroh knelt on the lip of the hole and held her hand down to pull Oltahm up.

Donn gently closed Frode’s eyelids, and turned to take her hand when the wall next to him collapsed and a small n’dara, no larger than one of his dogs, burst out and sank its fangs into his leg.

Donn threw himself backwards in shock and fear, but the thing held on. He swung again and again until it fell, slashed and battered into a bloody mess, and then Donn fell next to it as the poison overwhelmed him.

“Get him out of there!” shouted Oltahm, and jumped into the pit again.

Ignoring chitinous scrapings from the walls he grabbed Donn around the waist, lifting him up high enough for Reciroh to grab hold of an arm, and between them they pulled him up and out. She rolled Donn away from the pit’s open mouth as soon as she could, and threw herself down on her stomach to reach down and grab Oltahm’s wrists, yanking him up to safety.

Jasque stood some ways back, still in shock, but when he saw a black shape begin to emerge from the pit he leapt forward, skewering it to the ground with his sword.

It scrabbled for a moment, then died, but there were more black shapes swarming up the walls.

Oltahm pulled Donn up onto his back and began staggering toward the horses, Reciroh and Jasque helping and keeping an eye out for pursuing spiders.

“Get out of here! To the ford!”

Hakim and Sadiki were already undoing the ropes holding the packhorses from straying, and at Oltahm’s shout they began leading them toward the river. Oltahm and Jasque managed to get Donn up atop one of the horses, and they fled.

They raced across the ford, not taking time to check for danger, and collapsed on the far side of the river, panting.

The horses were still nervous, nostrils flared, snorting and pawing the ground, but now that the stench of the spiders were gone, replaced by running water, they began to relax.

They laid Donn down on the grass.

He was barely conscious, face tight with agony.

His leg was already swelling, turning black and ugly as the poison did its work.

Oltahm drew his dagger and slashed Donn’s leg open around the wound, and bent to suck out as much poison as he could, spitting the foul green stuff to the ground.

Sadiki watched for a second, then turned to look at the surrounding jungle. She was searching for something.

“Hold him!” she commanded Jasque, and handed him the baby, running upstream all alone. Jasque automatically accepted the squalling infant and stood there, gaping.

She dropped to her knees in front of a stand of dark-green plants, and slashed at it with her dagger, collecting a handful of leaves. As she came running back he saw they were large, almost circular leaves with tiny purple flowers running all along the edge.

“Bind his leg with these,” she panting, handing the leaves to Oltahm. “They will absorb more of the poison.”

Oltahm hesitated for a second, then nodded and wrapped Donn’s leg in them. He tore off a strip of tunic and tied it around the leg as a bandage.

“We have to get him to a physician as soon as possible,” he said. “Hakim, I figure we’ve got another three hours or so to Zretazoola, and that’s too long. Someone has to take him, now.”

Hakim nodded, then pointed to his mouth.

Hakim couldn’t speak, he was saying, and someone who could speak would be needed. It had to be one of the guards, or Jasque.

“Right. I’ll take him,” said Oltahm. “Reciroh, it’s up to you and Jasque now.”

Jasque handed the baby back to Sadiki and stepped forward.

“No, I am going with you. You’ll need help getting Donn there safely. We have spare mounts, and if we switch off later we’ll be able to make very good time.”

“No. If he doesn’t get the right medicine quickly he will die,” said Sadiki. “I have to go, because I can get it.”

She handed the baby to Hakim.

“Kandoro is the most important thing in my life, but I owe Master Donn my own. Care for him, Hakim!”

Hakim nodded, and clutched the baby to his chest.

“Sadiki and I will go,” announced Jasque. “Oltahm, we’ll get a message to you at the inn.

Oltahm looked Jasque in the eyes for a moment, then nodded.

“Right. Help me get him up on his horse. We’ll have to tie him on.”

They manhandled the unconscious man onto his horse, tying his feet into the stirrups and his torso flat on the horse’s back.

“We’ll leave a marker at every ford we start across… and if we can’t get across and have to come back, we’ll mark which way we went instead.”

“Safe journey!”

“Safe journey!”

Jasque kicked his horse’s flanks and they set out at a canter: three horses carrying riders, and two spare mounts.

Oltahm, Hakim, and Reciroh began preparing for their own journey: slower, but perhaps more difficult because now it was only the three of them for almost two dozen horses.

The baby kept wailing in spite of Hakim’s best efforts.

* * *

Sadiki took the lead, trailing the two spare horses, with Jasque close behind. He rode with Donn’s horse next to him, holding both sets of reins, so he could keep a close eye on his father.

Sadiki was unfamiliar with this part of Parg but at least she knew its dangers. Jasque had never been here before, and indeed had never been to so dense a jungle before… the trees were different from what he’d grown up with, the animals hiding in the jungle were unknown, and he’d just watched his father attacked—perhaps fatally—by something that looked like a giant spider.

He didn’t know where he was going, or what to do when he got there, or even if he really trusted this woman, but he did know one thing, and he held onto that thought with all his heart: Donn must live!

They raced down the empty road toward distant Zretazoola, ducking under low branches and batting aside hanging creepers as they ran.

“How far is it?” he shouted.

“I don’t know, exactly, but we should start to see border stones, and then we’ll know.”

“Zretazoola stones?”

“Maybe. Might be Zoon; they’re farther north than Zretazoola.”

“Is Zoon any closer?”

“I doubt it, and I don’t know anyone there anyway… Zretazoola’s our best chance!”

They concentrated on riding for a while until Sadiki suddenly pulled her horse to a stop.

“What? What’s wrong?” Jasque asked, riding up closer.

“I don’t like the looks of this ford,” she said. “The ones we rode through before were shallow enough I didn’t have to worry, but this one looks a lot deeper in the middle. Crocodiles.”

Jasque looked at the smoothly flowing water.

“I don’t see any…”

“That’s the problem,” she explained. “You don’t see them until they pull you off your horse.”

“So what do we do now?”

She bit her lip.

“We’ll have to try upstream and hope for another place to cross…”

Jasque pulled Donn’s horse closer and felt his father’s pulse.

He was still alive. Unconscious, but alive.

He looked at the river.

“We don’t have time. I’m crossing here,” he said, and drew his sword.

He kicked his horse, yanking Donn’s to follow, and they entered the water.

“Jasque!”

“It’s the only way!” he called back, eyes on the water.

Sadiki cursed something under her breath and followed.

They walked most of the way across, the water gradually getting deeper and deeper, until it reached about halfway up the horse’s chest, soaking the riders to the thighs, and their pace slowed down.

There was a swish of water, and Jasque slammed his sword down into the river, twisting it out again with a splash of blood. A long, grayish-green tail slammed the water and something huge and hungry twisted away underwater.

The horses panicked, and began to push through the water with even more speed, eyes white, snorting in fear to each other.

Sadiki’s mount suddenly reared up, tearing the reins out of her hand and dumping her on her back into the water, as a long, pointed jaw clamped onto its haunch, dragging it screaming and bucking down into the river.

Sadiki grabbed hold of the spare mount’s saddle, trying to pull herself up and over to the far side of the horse. The horse bucked again, her grip began to slip.

Jasque could hold his sword, or he could help Sadiki… without a second thought he grabbed her arm as his sword slipped away into the water, dragging her up high enough for her to get a firm grip, and pull herself fully onto the horse’s back.

Sadiki’s horse screamed once… froth, bubbles, waves, swirling water, and finally the horse’s terrified eyes slipping out of sight underwater.

It was gone.

Seconds later the river bottom began to rise and the horses picked up speed, hooves splashing as they burst up onto dry land, away from the ravenous jaws of the river crocodiles.

Sadiki was holding onto the saddle with both hands, running alongside her horse with giant jumps, trying to keep pace, and finally managed to pull herself up, getting a foot in a stirrup.

Jasque managed to slow his own horse down to a trot, soothing it with his hand and voice, and trying to keep Donn’s mount under control.

Sadiki rode up beside him, keeping her own jumping mount barely under control.

“You’re damn lucky,” she panted. “And I’m lucky you’re lucky.”

“And we’re here,” he panted back. “And look! Over there! A border stone!”

She looked where he was pointing.

“Only a few kilometers to Zretazoola, Jasque! We’ll make it!”

The horses were pretty winded, but with only a few more kilometers to go… they forced the horses into a trot, and the horses were as glad to get away from the river as they were.

 A short time later the jungle ended and open fields began, the massive walls of the city rising ahead. They were featureless, built of enormous blocks of dark grey stone, with towers around the perimeter. About a dozen troopers were grouped in front of the gate.

As they approached one of the troopers moved to block their way, raising his hand.

“Hold! State your name and business in Zretazoola!”

“Sadiki of Zretazoola with two merchants from Dylath-Leen,” she said. “He’s been bitten by a n’dara; we need to get to a physician immediately!”

He briefly glanced at Donn’s leg—it was obvious she was telling the truth, and without any more questions he waved them through.

“Follow me, Jasque!” she called, riding through first. She knew the way now. “My father’s shop is close by.”

She began shouting something in Pargite at the people blocking her way, and they stepped aside long enough for them to weave through. Jasque couldn’t understand what she was saying, but he caught her name, and “n’dara” a few times. He guessed everyone was willing to make room for a man bitten by one of the damn spiders.

Sadiki yanked her horse to a sliding halt in front of a little storefront and ran inside with a “Get Master Donn down!”

Jasque started untying the ropes holding Donn’s limp body on the horse’s back, and jumped up when he heard someone start screaming. Sadiki?

He ran around the horse and looked inside.

Sadiki was hugging an older woman, perhaps in her forties or fifties, tears streaming down both their faces. They were talking over each other, the older woman rocking back and forth with grief or joy, he couldn’t tell. Her cheek was set with almost a dozen gems, more than Jasque could count, several linked with gold filigrees. Two more faces watched from the rear doorway.

Sadiki pulled herself free and turned to Jasque.

“My mother. She thought I was dead.”

She turned back to her mother, grabbed her shoulders and shook her, talking to her emphatically.

Her mother looked up, saw Jasque, and saw Donn’s body still half-tied to the horse outside.

She jumped to her feet, shouted something to the watching people. One of them, a boy not much younger than himself, ran out the door, past Jasque, and down the street.

“He’s gone to get the healer,” explained Sadiki. “Let’s get Master Donn inside.”

They managed to half-carry, half-drag his unconscious body into the shop, and laid it down on the floor. Sadiki’s mother fetched a bowl of water, soaking a cloth in it and placing it on his forehead. She dribbled a few drops into his slack mouth.

Jasque opened his father’s tunic. He was still breathing, shallowly.

Sadiki pulled off one of the leaves she had wrapped around the wound. The leg stank of rotting meat, black and ballooned up to twice its usual size, and it was dripping a dark purplish liquid instead of blood.

The messenger came running back in, followed closely by a much older man; the healer, no doubt.

He knelt down next to Donn and immediately started issuing orders to Sadiki and her mother, in Pargite. Jasque had no idea what they were saying or what he could do, and just moved back to stay out of their way.

“Master Jasque,” said Sadiki, seeing his distress, “tend to the horses. They need water.”

He slowly nodded, torn between the need to care for the animals and his worry for his father.

“There is nothing you can do here. Trust the healer,” she said, and squeezed his arm.

He stepped outside, and the horses kept him busy enough for a while.

When they were watered and their trappings taken off, he stepped back inside the shop. A leather worker, apparently… saddles, bags, chaps, whips, all sorts of leather products. And now he could smell the salt and acid from the tanning shed, no doubt right behind the shop.

The healer was still kneeling over the wound, but Donn looked much better. A little color had come back to his face, and he seemed to be breathing more easily.

“How is he?”

Sadiki, wringing out the cloth before placing it back on Donn’s forehead, looked up.

“The healer says most of the poison is gone now, thanks to the leaves, and Donn should wake up probably tomorrow or so. It will take days for the fever to go down. But he also said…”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, Master Jasque. He said Master Donn will never be able to use that leg again.”

Jasque knelt next to his father, taking his hand is his own, silent.

The healer finished wrapping the injured leg in a long bandage, and began putting his things away in his bag. He picked a jar of some dark brown powder and picked up a pinch, spreading it out on his palm to show Sadiki as he spoke.

She translated: “He says Master Donn must take this much twice a day, and drink plenty of water or tea. He will be in pain for days, maybe longer.”

“Tell him thank you,” said Jasque, pulling out his wallet. “Let me repay him for his skill, and his medicine.”

The healer smiled and waved his hand back and forth.

“No, no, Master Jasque. You have brought little Sadiki back to us, after all this time… we owe you more than we can ever repay.”

“You speak common!”

“Healers usually do,” said the other. “Tarka of Panakeia.”

Jasque suddenly stood up straight.

“Jasque of Penia. Thank you, Healer Tarka!”

“No, thank you, Master Jasque, and Master Donn.”

Tarka turned to Sadiki.

“Now that things have settled down a bit, perhaps you could find some tea? I’m a bit parched here, and it looks like you and Master Jasque could use a little rest.”

Sadiki’s mother, who apparently didn’t understand common at all, saw the healer move his hands as if drinking a cup of tea and shot to her feet, vanishing into the back rooms.

“Your mother thought you were dead all these years, Sadiki, you and your father.”

“They killed father when they kidnapped me. He tried to fight them, but strong as he was he was no warrior.”

“You and your mother have much to talk of, Sadiki. And Master Jasque brought you here?”

“There are others coming, with the trade goods. We came ahead with Master Donn.”

“He’s the trader?”

“Yes, Master Jasque’s father, and head of the family that saved me when we escaped.”

“We?”

“Kandoro and I. My son.”

She put her hand to her mouth in astonishment. “You don’t know!”

She jumped to her feet and ran after her mother shouting something.

Healer Tarka sat still, listening.

“A grandchild, then… happy tidings indeed! Where is he?”

“Hakim—Donn’s partner—is taking him to the Silk Panther with the packhorses,” explained Jasque. “I have to go tell him where we are… where are we?”

Tarka laughed just as an explosion of more laughter and tears erupted from the back. Sadiki and her mother, faces streaked with tears and wrinkled with smiles, came back with trays of tea and cups and fresh-baked cakes.

“She wants to see Kandoro right away,” said Sadiki, teacup in one hand and spice cake in the other. “She says you must go fetch them, and you all will stay here instead of at the inn. She insists.”

“That’s really up to Hakim,…” said Jasque, looking troubled.

“Come with me,” said Sadiki, stuffing the remains of the cake into her mouth. “I’m going to get Kandoro now!”

“But Donn!”

“Healer Tarka will watch him, right Healer?”

“Of course, child, of course. Go!”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the store and down the street, weaving between people with a skill that country-raised Jasque could only envy.

Around a corner, down an alley, another turn… Jasque was lost, and let himself be dragged along until suddenly Sadiki opened a wooden door with “Silk Panther” written on it, and pulled him inside the inn.

The inn was dark inside, but as their eyes adjusted they saw the large room was mostly empty—and no sign of Hakim or the others.

She turned back and stepped outside again, eyes searching.

With perfect timing Olatahm stepped into view down the street, leading his horse, and behind him came the packhorses, and the others.

“Kandoro!” she shouted, dropping Jasque’s hand to run to her baby, sleeping peacefully in Reciroh’s arms. .

“Mistress Sadiki! Jasque!” said Trooper Oltahm as they ran toward him. “How is Donn?”

“We were in time,” said Jasque. “But the healer said he couldn’t save the leg.”

“He’s alive?”

“He’s alive. Sleeping, and a fever, but alive.”

“Thank Panakeai.”

“Thank Mistress Sadiki!” corrected Jasque. “Without her we wouldn’t have made it.”

Sadiki, holding a slurping Kandoro to her breast, in turn corrected Jasque: “I just brought the spare mount; Master Jasque saved us all, slashing that crocodile and leading us to safety!”

Hakim was all smiles.

“Master Hakim, we have been invited to stay with Mistress Sadiki’s mother. She insisted,” said Jasque. “I told her the decision was up to you.”

Hakim nodded, and turned to Sadiki with an eyebrow raised.

“Yes, Master Hakim. We insist.”

Oltahm nodded, too.

“If Mistress Sadiki insists, it would be impolite to refuse, wouldn’t it?”

“I’ll lead you there now,” continued Sadiki, taking the reins from Oltahm. “Follow me.”

Without a second glance she began walking, leading Oltahm’s horse with her.

Jasque hesitated.

Hakim laughed and shrugged.

They turned away from the inn and into the alley, following Sadiki and Kandoro.

* * *

Sadiki’s mother, Mistress Zawati of Zretazoola, ran one of the larger tanneries in the city, and behind the relatively small shop was a large lot packed with processing sheds emitting a variety of foul stenches. Behind the processing sheds, however, was a thick row of trees, and another lot with a spacious, elegant house… Zawati’s home.

Sadiki and her mother—now beaming with delight and bouncing her new grandson in her arms—led them all through the tanning plant and into the privacy and quiet of their home. Zawati, her attention focused on the baby, called a few workers to get the horses unloaded and cared for, and welcomed them all inside.

A variety of servants scurried about preparing cushions, tea, and fruit, and ushered them to the bath to wash off the dirt and fatigue of the journey. They also carried Donn there on a stretcher, and laid him in the main room so they could keep an eye on him.

Jasque washed himself and soaked in the large bath, just thinking and trying to relax from the events of the day. He suddenly woke when his head slipped under water and sat up coughing.

Oltahm laughed.

“Been a hard day, Master Jasque, but you did good. You saved his life, you know.”

“Sadi… Mistress Sadiki knew the way, and how to get help. Without her it would have been too late.”

“Nonsense,” came Sadiki’s voice. He looked up through the steam to see that she and Kandoro were in the bath, too. “I told them about the crocs and the way you bulled your way through, cutting hours off our journey. That choice, right there, saved his life. And you saved mine.”

“I… Mistress Sadiki…”

“You did good, kid. You deserve your rest,” continued Oltahm. “Maybe a little food first, though?”

Now that he thought of it, he was starving! They never did eat lunch…

After they dressed in clean tunics, they returned to the main room to find a meal waiting for them on the table.

“After you’ve eaten and relaxed a bit, Master Jasque, why don’t you take Sadiki to the market. She needs some clothes,” said Zawati. “Sadiki, you need proper clothes for you and Kandoro. Go see Kalao.

“And buy some decent clothes for Master Jasque and Master Donn, too.”

“Yes, mama.”

Jasque began to refuse, but stopped immediately when Sadiki elbowed him.

“Will she be safe?”

“Dear boy, this is Zretazoola. She could walk the streets at midnight and be safe!” laughed Zawati.

A short while later Sadiki led him through Zretazoola, the largest city in Parg.

While the defensive wall was as strong and high as the wall around Dylath-Leen, and built of dark gray stone rather than black basalt, they were quite similar to one another.

Inside the walls was a different world entirely.

There were far fewer horses here, the streets were thronged with raptors and deinos instead. While Dylath-Leen was a diverse medley of people from all of the Dreamlands, the population of Zretazoola was largely black Pargites and bronzed Khemites, with a smattering of other peoples.

The local costume was a long flowing robe, generally of a light cloth than allowed the rare breezes to blow through, colored in every shade under the rainbow, and often embroidered with patterns or pictures. The men usually wore a small round skullcap; sometimes it matched the robe, more usually it was just a single color, often beige.

The marketplace was a riot of color and sounds, at heart not much different from the markets of Dylath-Leen. It was also full of people, and he couldn’t get the hang of slipping so easily between them, while Sadiki seemed to do it effortlessly.

She dragged him deeper and deeper into the crowd, finally coming to a halt in front of a large shop with hanging tapestries and rugs on the ground.

“Mistress! Mistress Kalao!”

At Sadiki’s call an older woman poked her head out from behind one of the tapestries.

“Who…? Sadiki!? Sadiki, is that you!?”

She came running, one slipper missing, and hugged Sadiki to her.

“Sadiki! We thought you dead all these years! You’re alive!”

“It’s so good to see you again, Mistress Kalao.”

“Oh, shush, girl, call me Kalao, like always… and who is this fine gentleman I see here?”

She looked up at Jasque inquisitively.

“This is Jasque of Penia,” introduced Sadiki. “He saved my life, and brought me home.”

Wanted to avoid another elbow in the side, Jasque merely nodded and smiled rather than insisting otherwise.

“Saved your life!? Well, come in, young man, come in, both of you!”

She turned to the girl standing at the counter.

“Don’t just stand there, girl! Go make tea!”

“Yes, Mama Kalao,” she said, and ran off into the back.

“Come, sit, sit with me, Sadiki,” she invited, leading them to a low couch and table. “You’ve grown up.”

“Thank you, Mistress Kalao, Yes, I have. I’m an escaped slave, and a mother, among other things…”

“Is the baby…?”

“Oh, yes, Kandoro’s fine… Mama’s taking care of him while I get some shopping done.”

“I must go and see your Kandoro! What a fine name!”

“First I need some proper clothes for myself, and for Master Jasque, and for his father, Master Donn, who saved me from slavery.”

“Dear, dear Sadiki… you will have our finest!” said Kalao, and rapped on the table. “Keisaburō! Come out here and measure this gentleman, will you please?”

An old Asian man, back bent with age, stepped out of the back and shuffled over to the table.

“Well, stand up, Master Jasque!” said Sadiki. “They can’t measure you sitting down!”

He hurriedly stood up and allowed the tailor to measure him. Pargite robes were quite adjustable for girth, but the length had to be close or a sash would be necessary. In Parg, perfectly fitting robes were a sign of wealth, and sashes were never seen among the upper classes.

While the tailor was measuring Jasque, turning him this way and that, or asking him to hold his arms out, Kalao and Sadiki were talking a mile a minute to each other in Pargite.

“All done, Mistress,” said the tailor, and vanished into the back room once more.

Jasque sat down again and took another sip of tea, listening to the tail-end of the conversation.

“And you’ll need clothes for Master Kandoro, of course,” said Kalao, ignoring Jasque. “How old is he?”

“About eight months now, Mistress Kalao.”

“I’ll have a selection of clothes for all three of you delivered to Mama Zawati before sundown,” she said. “Accept them, please, as my gift to welcome you home again.”

“Oh, shangazi uzazi, thank you!” cried Sadiki, and took the older woman’s hands in her own. “For the clothes, and your welcome, and… and everything! It’s so good to be home again.”

“Stay home now, child, stay here with us, where it’s safe.”

Sadiki nodded, biting her lip to stop from crying.

“Shangazi uzazi means aunt. She is sister of my mother, and I’ve known her all my life.”

Kalao looked up at Jasque.

“You take good care of this woman now, you hear?”

“Uh, I… yes, Mistress, yes, I will.”

“Good, good…” she said, nodding.

“Mistress Kalao, we must leave. Master Donn is ill—n’dara poison—and resting at Mama’s. Please, come as soon as you can! We have so much to talk about!”

“N’dara! Have you called a healer?”

“Of course. Healer Tarka came yesterday, and will be back today. He is getting better, but n’dara…”

“I’ll bring your robes later today, Sadiki. And for Kandoro, and for you and your father, young man.

“Here, take this,” she said, reaching into her robe to pull out a handful of coins. “Buy Master Jasque here some dibondo on the way home.”

“Thank you, Mistress!” Sadiki hugged her aunt again, and they left, Jasque in tow once more.

“What’s dibondo?”

“Palm wine,” answered Sadiki. “There should be a chilled seller somewhere…”

She was looking about the thronged marketplace, searching, and suddenly pointed.

“There!”

She grabbed his hand and dragged him off through the crowd once more, weaving expertly between people until they reached a tiny street stall. It was built as a cart, with wheels, and a raptor resting in the yoke made it clear that it moved.

Sadiki handed the man some coins and accepted a cup of palm wine.

The cup was glazed pottery, and it was cold.

He sniffed the wine, sipped a little.

Grimaced.

“You can’t live in Zretazoola without drinking dibondo, Master Jasque!” she laughed, and pushed the cup up towards his mouth once again.

He took a deep breath and slugged it down.

It was thick, sweet, and cold, and delicious in the heat and humidity, waves of coolness seeping from his stomach throughout his body.

She held the cup to her lips for a moment, draining out the last few drops, and handed it back to the vendor, then took Jasque’s arm once again.

“Now to home again, shall we?”

“How does he make it cold like that? Some spell?”

“They all—all the dinondo vendors—work for a magician named, um, Clubonto, if I remember correctly. He renews the frigidity spells every morning, and charges all the vendors for his services.”

“Interesting idea. Might be worth looking into…” he mused. “You know, that dibondo’s actually pretty good once you get used to it…”

They walked back through the market talking to each other, largely ignoring the crowds and hawkers until she clenched his arm and turned to bury her face in his chest.

“What? What is it?”

“That man! He’s the one!”

She turned her head a fraction to look to the side, and pointed with her chin.

“That man with the beard and the white hair, and the scar across his cheek? See him?”

“Yeah…”

“He’s the man who killed my papa!”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive! I will never forget that face! The man who killed my father, and sold me into slavery!”

Jasque stiffened, and reached for his sword, only to remember that he had none. He put his hand on his dagger and started to draw, but her hand pressed it down again.

“You’re unarmed, save your dagger,” she whispered. “He has a sword, and a friend with him… maybe more. Let me.”

She turned and waved her hand, and a couple miraculously appeared from the crowd, a man and a woman. Both were armed with swords, Jasque noticed.

“Mistress?”

Sadiki explained who the white-haired man was, and the two conferred for a minute in quiet tones. The man turned back to Sadiki.

“I’ll stay with them, and Kindala here will escort you back to the estate. We’ll take care of it, Mistress.”

“Thank you,” said Sadiki, and pulled Jasque away. The woman—Kindala—walked right behind them.

“Guards? I thought your mother said Zretazoola was safe!”

“It is, but Mama trusts herself more than she trusts the city guards… and lucky for us that she does.”

They reached home soon, and found the entire estate bustling with servants and vendors. Arrays of flowers, colorful carpets on the floors, tables piled high with food and drink, the sound of musicians tuning their instruments.

Kindala, their guard, immediately sought out Sadiki’s mother and the two of them soon left, deep in conversation.

Jasque looked into the side room to see Hakim spoon-feeding Donn soup.

“Father!”

Donn had a pillow at his back and was sitting up, but his tired face lit up with a smile when he saw Jasque.

They exchanged a hug.

“I hear you saved me, Jasque, and Sadiki,” he rasped, and coughed. “Your first trading trip has turned out to be quite an adventure.”

“I… How do you feel?”

“Terrible, but I’m alive and that’s always a good start.”

“Your leg?”

“Healer Tarka tells me I’ll never be able to use that leg again,” replied Donn. “I still have my right leg, though. I’ll manage.

“Sadiki tells me you need a new sword, by the way. I already spoke to Oltahm, and he will be bringing a few for you to look at later. Pick one or two you like, to thank you, and congratulate you on your first successful trading trip.”

Jasque looked down.

“Father, the weights and scale set you gave me…”

“The set Pensri gave you.”

“Yes, the set Mama gave me… I lost it.”

“You lost it!?”

“The river… the crocodiles… I lost my whole pack, and by the time I noticed…”

“You’re alive, Jasque! You can always buy a new set!”

“But those were from you and Mama!”

“Yes, they were, but you made the right choice, Jasque.” Donn pulled him closer. “You chose life over mere things, and that is always the right choice.”

Donn fell back again, and signed something to Hakim, who rose and left the room for a moment.

“Jasque, you need a new sword, because there are always crocodiles, but you will also need a new scale and weights set, because there are always thieves and scoundrels.”

He reached out his hand to Hakim, who was walking over with something in his hands.

“Take mine,” said Donn, handing over a well-worn leather case. “It has served me well for years, and I know it will serve you as well.”

“Your set! Father, I couldn’t…!”

“Of course you can. I can trade no more. Take it, and use it wisely!”

Jasque slowly reached out to take the case, touched it. He lifted it and held it in his hand for a moment, then very deliberately set it down next to himself and leaned over to hug Donn once again.

“Thank you, father! I shall treasure it!”

Donn nodded, content, and closed his eyes to rest.

Jasque looked around.

“Umm…”

“Sadiki’s in the kitchen with her mother,” said Donn, eyes closed with a smile on his lips. “Go on! I’m just going to take a little nap.”

Hakim placed a new, cool towel on his forehead.

Jasque rose, and followed Hakim’s pointing finger toward the kitchen.

Sadiki was there, Kandoro snuggled on her back, and when she saw Jasque she came to give him a bit of fresh papaya and a very energetic kiss.

Just as his arm was beginning to rise to clasp her tight, he noticed her mother watching from the corner of his eye, a big smile on her face. He froze, blushing, and Sadiki pulled his head closer to give him an even more energetic kiss before slipping away.

“Now go sit with Master Donn and I’ll bring you something to eat.”

In a few minutes she brought in a large plate of mixed vegetables and chicken, stir-fried in something that smelled like sesame, and began serving it to smaller plates for the three men.

There was a commotion at the entrance and Sadiki’s mother entered with an older man.

“Master Jasque, this is my brother,” said Zawati, introducing the grey-bearded man. He was wearing a brilliant purple robe with dark blue patterns, and a round, close-fitting cap to match.

“Yunisar of Zretazoola,” he introduced himself.

“Jasque of Penia.”

“We owe you so much for bringing my niece back to us safely, thank you.”

“Really, it wasn’t just me. Master Donn and Master Hakim and…”

Hakim slapped him on the back, laughing, shaking his head. Obviously he agreed with Yunisar.

Yunisar introduced himself to Hakim, and Jasque quickly explained he was mute.

“Master Hakim is a trader, correct?”

“Yes, he and my father are in charge of the caravan. Now that my father is injured, Hakim is in charge,” explained Jasque. “My father is still sleeping, but I can wake him…”

“No, no, no need. We can talk later if necessary,” said Yunisar. “Master Hakim, I have never dealt with you or Master Donn, but I would be honored if you would allow me to purchase your salt and wine.”

“Uncle Yunisar is one of the biggest merchants in the city,” interjected Sadiki.

“Oh, hush, girl. I’m just a struggling businessman.”

She snorted.

“I’ve seen where you live, Uncle. Far from struggling, I’d say…”

He shrugged, turned back to Hakim.

“Name your price.”

Hakim pursed his lips, and traced a number on Yunisar’s outstretched palm.

“Is that all!? Far too little for all you have done!” said the merchant. “I think eight hundred grams would be far more reasonable.”

“That’s more than double what we had expected!” breathed Jasque.

Sadiki elbowed him in the side. “Shh!”

Hakim and Yunisar negotiated a little more in silence, this time Hakim trying to lower the price and Yunisar trying to refuse.

They finally settled on six hundred grams of gold, to everyone’s apparent satisfaction.

The Dreamlands had no large nations, no common currency, and was awash in coins from an infinitude of known and unknown histories. In general there were three types of coins: gold, which was usually a little gold alloyed with baser metal; silver, another alloy; and finally copper. The standard exchange rate was thirty coppers to a silver, and twelve silvers to a gold, which worked out neatly to three-hundred and sixty coppers for a gold coin.

The problem was that different coins had different gold or silver content, and while the actual value of the widely used coins was known, simplifying commerce, there were many unfamiliar coins. It was not uncommon for merchants to simply refuse to accept unknown “gold” or “silver” coins in payment.

Traders faced this problem often, and always carried their own set of “standard” weights and a trusted scale. When making a deal, it was expected that the parties would compare their weights on both scales, making sure that weights matched and scales were weighing similarly.

King Kuranes had been working to improve the system for years, minting his own coinage that could be trusted, and selling sets of standardized weights: crowns of gold, tiaras of silver, and laurels of copper.

Unusual coins, or coins made of rare metals such as orichalc or platinum could be used, but their values fluctuated wildly—any transaction involving such coins was usually closer to barter than sale.

His belly finally full, he realized he was dead tired, and just as he was thinking he might be able to slip away for a nap, Aunt Kalao appeared with two assistants and a packhorse piled high with bundles. She promptly dragged Sadiki and Kandoro off to examine the new clothes with Zawati.

They shut the door in his face when he tried to follow.

“If you will step this way, Master Jasque, I have your robe here,” came a man’s voice, and Jasque turned to see one of Kalao’s assistants pointing toward another doorway.

Helpless, he followed her into the other room, where she stripped him down and gave him a quick haircut and shave with a long, very sharp set of scissors and a straight razor. She dressed him in a dark green robe decorated in gold-and-silver pheasants, with a matching skullcap on his head.

He was ready to go in about half an hour.

He looked at himself in the mirror and barely recognized who he saw. He looked like nobility!

As he returned to the main room he wondered how they managed to walk without always kicking the front of their robes. While he’d been gone he saw that Donn had changed, too, and was now wearing a beige robe with a dark brown pattern of intersecting circles, like raindrops rippling on the water.

Donn was awake, and looked at his son with undisguised admiration, and Jasque, embarrassed to be wearing such finery, sat and poured tea to hide it.

The door opened and in walked a Sadiki he had never dreamed of, dressed in a high-collared ivory-and-forest-green robe, rings and bracelets adorning her arms. A delicate silver tiara was half-buried in her tight-curled hair, mounted with a brilliant purple amethyst. They scintillated in the brilliant light of the sunstone suspended from the ceiling.

He gasped in wonder, and returned to reality with a splash and laughter as he spilled tea all over his leg.

Sadiki twirled, her robe flaring out gently, swishing across the reed mats.

“Not quite suitable for milking the cows in Penia, but quite attractive, don’t you think?”

“It’s… You’re beautiful!” he said, his voice a little off.

“Thank you,” she smiled, and sat down elegantly on the low stool her aunt skillfully swung into position.

Mama Zawati knelt next to her carrying Kandoro, swaddled in a red-and-brown blanket and chewing on something that made little chimes and jingles every time he moved it.

“You make a very handsome man, Master Jasque!” said Zawati. “Sit, please.”

She slid to the side to make room for him to sit next to Sadiki, and again Aunt Kalao deftly slid a stool into place under him, then took her own place at the foot of the table.

Perhaps her sitting down was the signal, but immediately servants began bringing more food and drink into the room.

Zawati pressed her palms together and bowed her head to Donn and Jasque.

“I welcome you to Zretazoola,” she said. “I welcome you to my home. I welcome you to my heart.”

“We thank you for your welcome, for your peace, and for your friendship,” replied Donn, completing the ritual.

She poured Jasque a cup of dibondo, and a tiny sip for Donn, and they drank it off. Donn shook his cup dry and poured more dibondo, handing it back to Zawati, who drank in turn.

Jasque shook his own cup empty, filled it, and held it out to Sadiki.

Donn frowned for a second: he should have offered it to Zawati, not Sadiki! He shot a glance at Sadiki’s mother and saw that she was watching them, smiling, and decided all was well after all.

Sadiki accepted the cup and drank slowly, her eyes on Jasque’s, then handed it back.

“That’s a Baharna cup, young man,” broke in Kalao. “Do try not to break it.”

Jasque blinked and hurriedly set the delicate porcelain cup down on the table.

A set of sliding doors on one side of the room opened to reveal a trio of musicians and a dancer wearing a semi-transparent robe of gossamer. She began dancing as they played an intricate piece on two small woodwinds and a seven-stringed lute.

The dinner went on for hours, each course more exotic and delicious than the last, served in tiny portions designed to stimulate the senses and whet the appetite. The dibondo was joined shortly by some of Donn’s own wine, and even a little dark, reddish Cydathrian brandy.

He was reeling with exhaustion, and the innumerable cups of liquor weren’t helping.

Sadiki caught him when he staggered, and led him deeper into the house, where his bed was already prepared.

He collapsed on the mattress, and the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was Sadiki lying down next to him, with tiny Kandoro. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer before drifting off.

* * *

When Jasque returned to the main room the next morning he was astonished to see how beautiful it was… the sun was shining in the stained glass windows, leaving colorful shadows across the parquet floor, an intricate design of various woods with ivory inlays.

Benches—backless sofas—cushions upholstered in Oriab silk, were positioned tactfully around the room, along with a few larger, more ornate chairs with backs and armrests. The enormous head of a panther was mounted on one wall, eyes of ruby glaring down at him.

He tore his eyes away and looked to see Donn already awake, signing with Hakim. Jasque knelt at his side.

“Hakim says you sold the salt and wine for six hundred,” whispered Donn. “That’s one hell of a deal!”

“That wasn’t me! Hakim did that!” Jasque protested, but Hakim shook his head, signing.

“Yunisar didn’t mention it, but he’s one of the larger traders here in Zretazoola. They’ve always declined to deal with us directly, preferring to run their own caravans and run their own trades. Being able to meet and deal with him directly is an enormous step. No telling where it might lead.

“And like Hakim says, you made it all possible by saving Sadiki. You saved me, too, I might add.”

Jasque’s response was interrupted by Sadiki, who brought in a tray of fresh-baked bread, eggs, broiled chicken, cucumbers, and fruit, setting it down in front of Jasque. She was followed by a servant who placed a similar tray in front of Hakim, along with a rich rice-and-chicken broth for Donn.

Sadiki plumped Donn’s pillows so he could sit up enough to eat, then demurely knelt at Jasque’s side as he spooned up some of the broth, tongue-checked it to make sure it wasn’t too hot, and held it up to Donn’s lips.

Donn slurped it down, a little dribbling down his chin.

Jasque wiped it off with his hand and readied another spoonful.

“Let me do that,” said Sadiki. “You eat your breakfast.”

She ignored his protests and pried the spoon from his hand, waving him to the table to eat with Hakim.

Jasque hesitated, then surrendered and pulled up a bench to eat, but not before pouring a cup of tea for Donn and placing it where Sadiki could easily reach it. After a moment, he poured a cup for her, too.

Donn ate most of the broth, and lay back again, content.

As the servants were cleaning up, Zawati called to Jasque from the doorway.

“The bath is hot, Master Jasque, and I’ve had fresh clothes laid out.”

“Oh, there was no need,…” he started to say, rising from the table.

“Of course there was a need! You lost all your clothes in the river!” she interrupted, and gestured toward the bath. “Now go.”

He went, and after bathing discovered that “fresh clothes” meant a Zretazoola-style robe. Made of some light fabric that allowed the breeze to blow through delightfully, it was embroidered with a geometric pattern of hexagons and turtles done in red and silver thread on a background the color of a bluebird.

He realized it was probably worth more than his horse, but after admiring himself in the mirror he had to admit it made him look mightily impressive.

Sadiki coughed lightly from the doorway, and he spun around, cheeks reddening.

“Sadiki! I didn’t see you there!”

She giggled.

“You make a very handsome gentleman, Master Jasque! That robe suits you.”

“I’ve never worn anything this fine,” he protested. “A tunic suits me much better.”

She drew closer and quickly adjusted the collar and the overlap at his chest.

“There. Perfect!”

She slipped her arm through his and they walked back out into the main room, where Zawati was waiting.

When she saw them she nodded, smiling.

“That robe belonged to my Boto—my husband—Master Jasque, but it is perfect on you. Please, accept it as a gift.”

“But it’s too much! Really, I couldn’t…”

Sadiki elbowed him into silence, then pulled Jasque’s arm so she could whisper into his ear: “Say thank you, you idiot!”

“I, uh… thank you, Mistress Zawati. I shall treasure it!”

Zawati smiled and nodded.

Jasque sat down at the table once more, relieved that his father was looking so much better. His color was almost normal now, his eyes alert. The pain must have receded.

“Slavers know better than to take slaves here in Zretazoola, or near any of the big cities… if the guard catches them the penalty is death. But out in the jungle there are no guards,” said Zawati, continuing her conversation with Donn.

“Why were they out in the jungle?”

“Boto was of the Motonga people. He was going to a funeral for a relative, with Sadiki, and was ambushed on the way.”

“Who are the Motonga?” Jasque had never heard of them.

“A tribe in the northern parts of the Parg jungle. They avoid the cities, for the most part, and are far more traditional than we here in Zretazoola,” explained Zawati. “He visited his home there several times a year; Sadiki has been there many times.”

“The Motonga hunt with blowpipes,” added Donn. “I’ve never been to a Motonga village, but I have seen them use their blowpipes, and their poison. Silent and deadly, and perfect for the jungle.

“Speaking of weapons, Trooper Oltahm dropped those off for you earlier,” he continued, pointing to three swords lying on the floor nearby. “He wasn’t sure of how heavy a weapon you were used to. Pick the one you like best and later, when you go to have a proper one made to fit you, you can give the other two back.”

Jasque picked them up and hefted them one at a time, and after a few experimental swings finally chose a simple short sword with leather sheath and sword belt.

“I must thank him!”

“No need,” said Donn. “He’s busy taking care of Factor Sefu’s spider-silk robe and his return cargo. He and Reciroh will leave tomorrow, back to Dylath-Leen.”

“Will I have a chance to meet him before he goes?”

“He may drop by later, but I doubt it… he has other work to do.”

“I’d like to thank him properly, if I can,” he said, hefting the sword. “This is almost the same as the one I lost, maybe a little lighter… I wish I’d had it with me before!”

“No need,” smiled Zawati. “That will all be taken care of shortly.”

“What? Taken care of?”

“I dispatched a messenger to Boto’s brother. He’ll collect the debt.”

“Your husband’s brother… the Motonga!”

“Yes,” she agreed. “More tea?”

“They will never be seen again,” said Donn. “It’s done.”

He took another sip of tea.

“Obviously I can’t go with you, Jasque. You and Hakim should discuss your route, and purchase whatever goods are appropriate; I’ll be happy to help in any way I can, of course.

“I’ll return home as soon as I’m able.”

Hakim pursed his lips and signed.

“Yes, we could sell it all here, of course,” nodded Donn. “We have already turned a profit on this trip, thanks to Mistress Zawati and Master Yunisar.

“Jasque, what do you think?”

Jasque slowly turned the cup on the tabletop with his fingertips for a moment.

“Father, I would like to stay here in Zretazoola, and handle trade here on your behalf.”

Donn and Zawati exchanged a quick glance.

“And would your plans to stay here in Zretazoola, perchance, have anything to do with Mistress Sadiki?”

Jasque blushed, and in a very small voice admitted it.

A second later he was knocked sideways as Sadiki yanked him into a hug.

END