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The Finding of Lokan, The Beginning Freya
Drip, drip, drip.
Rain falling off the tree branches.
Freya shivered slightly. A night breeze was blowing through her open window, but it wasn't this that made her shiver as she lay trying to sleep. No matter how she tried to calm herself, she could not deny that the thought of tomorrow sent stabbing fear racing through her.
The girl turned over on her side and shut her eyes forcefully. She had to sleep. She would need rest, strength. If only the dripping would stop, then maybe she could imagine herself back in her own village, instead of in a small wooden house on the outskirts of Este. Back in her own village, back before any of this had happened.
Drip, drip, drip.
Rain falling off the tree branches.
Sleep would not come tonight.
Terr
The fire burned gently in the grate. Terr leaned back in his chair and stared moodily into it. He wasn't afraid. Fear had died in him long ago. But he was worried. It was dangerous what they were going to do. No one even knew where Lokan was hiding, only that he was somewhere in Este. Este was a large city, and Lokan was a good hider. And even if they managed to find him, there was no telling what he would say or do. After all, there was very little doubt that he had killed those people some fifteen years ago. No one had seen him since. It was madness to go looking for him.
Terr frowned, angry with himself. Mad or not, they needed Lokan. He was the only Graylon left, the only one in the whole land of Arya who could still work the old spells.
For a moment, Terr allowed himself to think back to the old days. To think of his father. He would have come of course. He had been strong and brave, and if he were here than they wouldn't need this girl Freya. Terr tried to keep an unprejudiced mind, but he couldn't see how a mere child of sixteen from a small village was going to help them any. Kall said she spoke even more languages than the Three Tongues, learning them from an old woman in her village, but still...
Once again, Terr frowned. Kall had chosen the other two members of their party, and it wasn't surprising that both had been girls. But that had been one of the stipulations. Kall would join Terr in hunting for Lokan, but he wanted to pick their companions. And if Terr knew Kall Rayth, which he did, it was a pretty sure thing that Kall wasn't staying awake tonight worrying about tomorrow.
Kall Rayth
Kall felt the excitement course through him. Tomorrow the hunt would begin! It had been Terr's idea, this looking all over Este for Lokan. Of course it had, because Terr's father had been a Graylon, and Terr knew about the old healing spells. Healing was needed so desperately now in Arya. Why the sickness had come, no one really knew. But it had come, a pain filled fever and either a slow drawn-out wasting away or a sudden sharp death.
Kall shook his head. He didn't like to think of these things, though he could be pretty sure he would see plenty of them if Lokan was hiding in one of the poorer parts of Este. A twinge of uneasiness pricked Kall at this. He knew perfectly well that some of the sections of Arya were very dangerous, particularly those inhabited by the Gyans. But then, thought Kall, that's why Hithla Taln was coming. Hithla was a Gyan, and they were going to need her influence.
A slight smile flitted across Kall's face as he thought of the other member of their party. Freya was undeniably pretty, which had been for Kall an even greater consideration than her fluency in the languages spoken in Arya. That had been mainly to impress Terr into letting her come. But Kall knew that Freya would come through whatever dangers they had to face. Freya was strong, he could know that from her past. Tomorrow they would all meet at the small house she was staying at. Tomorrow, when the adventure began.
Hithla
Go to sleep, silly one, Hithla told herself. You need to sleep.
Of course she needed to sleep. Now that she had for some reason agreed to assist Kall in his crazy search, she was going to need to be alert and watchful. Kall, like Terr, was from a wealthy family in Este, and 'careless', 'rash', and 'thoughtless' were words that sprang to mind when thinking of him. But he had been wise in choosing a Gyan to help. A very long time ago the Gyans had inhabited Este, until the city was taken by the Aryans. That was many years ago but the old hatred the Gyans felt for their conquerors still burned. They did not take intruders into their sections of the city very well.
Hithla pushed her red hair out of her eyes. If only she could stop thinking and just go to sleep.
She had never seen Terr Sye, but Kall had assured her his friend was nothing like himself. Hithla had met this little Freya Qyr they were taking along. She had a dim recollection of a small person with dark hair and inquiring eyes. It shouldn't be too hard to figure out why Kall had asked her to come, Hithla thought to herself with an ironic smile. Ever since Freya had come to Este several months ago Hithla had seen much less of Kall than previously.
The girl laughed to herself in the darkness. Yes, she would sleep now. Tomorrow all would begin.
Kall Rayth
His eyes were fluttering closed, and Kall was silently willing himself to go to sleep. He tried to think of something that would put him at peace.
Hithla. Freya. Which one?
He thought of them both. Freya was sweet, and there was something touching about her. He liked to visit her a lot -- it was nice to see her reaction when receiving a cluster of wild violets. But even though he liked her a lot, Hithla was entirely different.
How long had they known each other? It had to be well over a dozen years. He could easily close his eyes and picture the girl. They had been companions, best of friends since their parents became friends and allies. Hithla didn't have a nursemaid, but Kall did. So they shared that one nursemaid, and found it amusing, driving the woman crazy.
No, they had never been in love. Friendship, however, was tighter than love would ever have made them. And she was a comforting person to think of. She was different from all those others ...
Kall drifted off to sleep.
***
When morning had dawned, Kall was up, pulling his belt 'round the fashionably slashed tunic. He hurried down the stairs, where servants were bustling to make breakfast.
“Master Kall, wherever are you going?” a maid cried, looking appalled. “You have not even eaten a breakfast!”
Kall smiled charmingly, something he had learned to get himself out of a tight spot. “Nothing decent enough, Marla. I'll take anything you can prepare quickly.”
“Very well, sir.” She bobbed down. “Do the Lord and Lady know of your adventure?”
“Of course,” Kall replied airily. “They'd flay me if I went off without them knowing.” He chuckled. “Now then, could you get something that should last four journeyers for a day?”
“Perhaps -- perhaps leftovers from yesterday's feast,” Marla replied uncertainly. “I cannot cook anything in such a swift amount of time; nothing better than that.”
“Last night's leftovers will be good enough,” Kall assured her. “So long as it isn't moldy soup.”
She smiled and rushed away.
By the time Kall's horse was saddled up and ready, Marla brought him a large hamper that must've held a week's worth of food.
“Thank you,” Kall said hastily. “Fare well!”
“God preserve you, Master Rayth,” she answered as he galloped away. “Pickles last the longest, I think.”
Of course, Kall had not heard her. His thoughts were on Lokan, Terr, Freya, and Hithla.
Lokan. A tall, thin man, always worried about Hithla. Kall did not mind -- too much. There was a different bond between Lokan and Hithla, something other than friendship. And he wisely did not intrude.
Lokan was the son of a nearby lord. Hitha and Kall's mothers had courteously invited the lord, lady, and their two children to visit, when Lokan and his family had first come to this part of Arya. He had been cautious around Kall to start with, but they gradually became close friends. Hithla did not join in -- she was not sure what to expect from Lokan. She came too late for them to become friends; when they truly met, at long last, she was sixteen. And he had fallen in love with her.
When the Civil War had ripped Arya into a thousand shards, they had all been separated. Of course, they met, and were friends as always, but Lokan could not marry Hithla, as he had wanted to. For he was now classed as a different Aryan than Hithla, one called a Graylon, while Hithla was Gyan.
How foolish to tear them apart…
Many Aryans openly hated Graylons. The latter knew the Ancient Spells, the only race of Aryans that did. The Graylons did not reveal even the slightest secret, and there grew a rift between them and jealous Aryans.
And then came the Graylon Massacre.
It was vivid in Kall's mind now; Lokan sobbing as though he would die, bloodied and bruised. He may not have lived, had it not been for Hithla, caring for him as tenderly as a mother bird to her chick. They hid him in what they called the Secret Room, a hidden attic that only the trio knew about.
Lokan was the last of the Graylons.
All the others had been killed or beaten till they died. Some killed themselves so as not to reach worse treatment from their enemies. Lokan had fought till his father had died, then fled back to the safety of Kall's manor. There, he and Hithla took care of him as well as they possibly could.
Lokan was the Hunted. He would now have to flee with his life, to a place where he would never be found. His solution had been to go to Este, where one could barely leave his home in fear of losing his way in the crowd. It was such an enormous city, with oh so many people...
From there, he brought up an ancient portal, and thrust himself into the Lands Beyond, the enormous portion of Arya that had never been explored. He hid there, and lived there still, knowing no news of his beloved and of the populated part of Arya.
The years had passed. It was two years later, and Hithla was eighteen. Death and destruction had torn Arya into shreds, cast into the breeze to be lost forever. There was severe drought, war, and killing. Needless looting, deaths. Sicknesses that spread faster than wildfires. Hatred, sown into the ground two years ago and fully grown with large roots.
Only one could save it. One who knew the Spells of Ancient.
Only a Graylon could save Arya.
Kall's thoughts were broken suddenly, for a cottage stood ahead of him; doubtlessly Freya's. He dismounted, reined his horse, and knocked boldly.
Rụnệ ǖr Ạtǚm
I turned, one last time, to look back at the Old City. Shrugging a rucksack further onto my shoulder, I heaved a relieved sigh. I felt a slow smile spread across my lips. Gone at last. Gone from that cursed Old City. Gone from my cursed old master. I had been trapped for years, but no longer. My grin widened.
I turned and ran onwards, jumping to smack a high, leafy frond, swaying gently in the cool air.
Many miles later I stopped my running. I was deep in a cool, bright forest. The sun did well at shining through the green leaves; it all looked like something out of a legend. I sat down on an old, damp stump and pulled out a package of bread and cheese. I frowned distastefully at the mold that grew spottily on the cheese. 'The bread's probably stale, too,' I thought to myself.
Feeling this free made me feel reckless. Half of me wanted to chuck the poor food into the forest and shout at the top of my lungs that I no longer had to put up with being anyone's slave. I frowned at myself. I was elated. Far too elated. Rubbing my temples I slowly replaced the bread and cheese into the sack. If I felt that food--poor food or not-- was beneath me, then I would not eat any until such feelings changed. I wouldn't waste my food. I wouldn't waste my freedom. I would ruin myself like that.
I heard birds flutter somewhere far off in the forest. My muscles tensed out of habit. Or was it warning? My master had valued me highly. I had brought in large amounts of money for him. I was like a golden statue, or a tamed tiger, which he insisted on having, possessing, coveting. I spat disgustedly and cursed his name. If he had valued me so highly, why had he treated me so badly?
Hefting the rucksack again, I set off through the many miles of light green, leafy forest. Eventually rain pattered down through the leaves, like a mist on its way to the underworld. The rich smell of good earth rose as it dampened and the leaves gave off their own, wet smell. To me, this was the smell of freedom.
For many days all towns were avoided, except for when food was needed. If I didn't have money, I stole the food, and if I couldn't steal it, I starved. This type of freedom was a rough existence, but it was freedom.
Finally I was a long way from the Old City I had started out from. Though I was certain my old master was still after me, I knew I could safely wander within the villages and cities this far out, he had no contacts in any of these places, not yet. I felt safe, free, alive!
But restlessness plagued me. I refused to stay for long in any of the settlements I came to. I needed bigger cities, more people, towns where crime was rampant and stealing food or making money was easy. A place where there were so many people, nobody could tell your face from their neighbor's. I wanted a place where I could watch and observe – learn -- without being noticed. I had heard, in a dingy tavern, of a place called Este. It was across the boarder of this land, Cele, and in the province of Arya. It was a distance, but I felt it would suit me well, it would be a place to start again.
So Este became my destination.
Lyea of the Magorians
I was neither a Graylon or Gyan, and so I felt detached in this desperate hunt to find Lokan. I had not been brought here willingly, and I had no comforts to indulge myself in. I knew no one, and everyone around me viewed me as the baby of the group, small and insignificant. And worse was the way Kall treated me, like I was nothing more than a feather headed pretty flower here for his amusement.
Here in Este it was hot. The sun was high in the sky, a brazen star watching over the ruins of a once great city. Little vegetation could survive the desert climate, and so there was nothing but wide open sand with nothing to block out the sun save for the crumbling buildings of the inner city.
I was fortunate enough to be placed on the outskirts of Este, where the climate was a little milder, and small clusters of plants had managed to grow. It was here that my small, lean to old cottage had been built. An old cabin the slaves had built and stocked with foods for the runaways during the Civil War. It was shabby and run down, the perfect place to hide me, Kall had said.
Kall had traveled to my village a few weeks ago. Before that I had lived among the tribes of my people, nomadic and free, wandering the plains of Arya that were unknown and uninhabited. My people worshipped the Horse God, and every year at Midsummer, we have a great ritual when the Horse God comes down from the stars in the shape of man or beast to protect his peoples. Sixteen years ago he had chosen my mother, and I had been born. I was a half child of the Horse God, and a very great and powerful Shaman.
Kall had heard of my powers, and come on the most sacred day to all of my people, that time of Midsummer. Kall had meant only to talk with me for awhile and seek advice and what potions I could give him. But this damned beauty of mine was always getting in the way, and the men of the cities are selfish and greedy. Kall had wanted me after that, and when that boy wants something a whole tribe of panicked horses couldn’t drag him away from his task.
He had stolen me away in the night, and afterwards had been struggling to make it up to me. He brought me flowers and the foreign cloths that the wealthier people in his city wore. I preferred my deer skin tunic, cream colored from being well handled, and my wolf mantle, all signs of richness among my tribes. But Kall insisted I dress like ‘Lady.' And here I was, a hopeless little waif craving the lush bronze of the plains grasses in high summer, and the dense green of the forest my people sometimes scavenged in the fall when food was lean.
I threw myself onto my mattress, stuffed full of old hay that made the small cottage smell of rot. These four walls were so confining, I wanted to leave but Kall had bolted the door and lashed my wrists tightly together. I wanted nothing more than to cry, but I would not ruin what little pride I had left. I represent the people of the Horse God, I thought fiercely, and know reckless boy of the city is going to put me to shame!
Kall Rayth
The door was opened by a plump woman in a dark red dress that stretched tautly across her wide stomach. On top of it she wore a starched white apron.
“Good morning, Master Rayth,” she said, smiling at him. “Would'ye be looking for Master Sye and his companions?”
Kall nodded. The woman turned and led him through the cottage to a sunny little room with several armchairs and couches spread luxuriously across. Terr sat in an armchair, staring moodily out of the window near him. Freya sat in an armchair not far, and Hithla had seated herself on a couch.
“What took you so long?” Terr inquired, not even looking up.
“Oh, you know those servants,” Kall replied, grinning. He plopped down beside Hithla. “Anything new?”
“Did you think there would be?” Terr turned from the window to face Kall and the other two. He, unlike Kall, disliked nonsense and the arrogant way Kall poised himself.
Kall closed his eyes. “Now, we're going to Este. Shall we divide ourselves into pairs or split up?” Having organized the whole expedition, he was the unspoken leader.
“Pairs,” Hithla said promptly. “Este is an enormous city. We should also decide on a place to meet back at, at an arranged time.”
Kall opened his eyes to regard his three companions. If they had to go in pairs, he knew for sure he'd never go with Terr, even if the latter was the best person to pair off with. It was Freya or Hithla...
He looked from one young woman to the other. Freya was dazzlingly pretty, and --
“Pair ourselves? I suppose you'll want first choice, Kall,” Terr said dryly. “And I know you're not going to choose me. At least; you'd best not.”
Kall ignored him. Hithla or Freya?
“Freya,” he began, and suddenly visualized a picture of long ago. It was of three people: Lokan, himself, and Hithla. “Freya, I hope you don't mind if I go with Hithla.”
“You would say that to her,” Hithla muttered under her breath so only he could hear. Kall just grinned.
Terr extended a hand to help Freya up. He turned to Hithla and Kall.
“Have fun,” was his sarcastic statement. “Because I don't think I'll be able to.”
As he strode off, Freya trailing him, Hithla whispered, “Is he always such a grouch?”
“Mostly,” Kall answered lightly. “But he'll be an asset.”
“Sometimes I can't possibly figure you out,” Hithla said, shaking her head in mock exasperation. “You like Freya, why didn't you go with her? I wouldn't mind Terr's company, even if he is a grouch.”
Kall shrugged, giving his old, charming smile. “She doesn't like me, I don't think.”
“Oh, don't worry,” Hithla comforted. “She'll figure out your ways and decide your attention is all right, even if it is pretty fickle.”
They went outside to saddle up the horses.
Freya
My eyes were amused as Kall asked if I'd mind if he went with Hithla.
“Not at all,” I said softly, and rose to follow Terr. But to tell the truth, I was a little disappointed. I wanted to explore the Gyan districts of Este, and that would be hazardous without Hithla.
Terr was walking fast. He didn't seem to realize that I was trying to keep up. As a matter of fact, he didn't seem to realize I was even there.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
Terr's eyes twinkled suddenly. “To the Yn district. I didn't tell Kall, but that's where Lokan was last sighted.”
“Oh,” I said, for lack of anything better.
“What languages are spoken there?” Terr asked. His voice was polite, but a little bored.
“The First Tongue, of course. Some of the older people probably use Wallish as well. The Yn district's terribly old.”
“And a terrible wreck,” Terr answered. “A lovely hiding place.”
'Lovely' wasn't the adjective I would have chosen myself, but I didn't say so. Terr hurried on, as the sun slowly climbed in the sky.
“I'm too darn short,” I panted to myself, as I tried to keep up with his long strides. I wondered where Kall and Hithla would be now. Suddenly, I felt excitement stir in me. This was going to be a day to be remembered.
Tiger Lilly
If she ran as fast as she could, perhaps she could make it to Este before they did and hide. The sound of her feet sounded loud enough to wake the dead in her nervous ears. Her long, chestnut hair was loose and kept getting in the way of her stunning green eyes. But it didn't matter, as long as she got away from them. Her pretty dress seemed to be catching on every branch and she had all kinds of bruises and cuts on her face, hands and knees.
They were coming closer. She could feel them, she could feel the slight vibrations that their feet were making.
She hadn't made any advances on him, she had tried desperately to fight him off. But he was so much stronger then her and soon he was-she stopped thinking about it. Her mind always cut her off there, maybe to save herself from the trauma of re- living it? Just run, she told herself, don't think. Just run.
She hadn't thought her mother was in. But she was, obviously.
She came in when she had heard the screams and banging. And she had blamed it all on Tiger Lilly. She had said she was unmoral and horrible and she would no longer live under her roof. Then she had sent the men to catch her and kill her.
So now Tiger Lilly was running. It had been her birthday. She had changed her dress but she was still wearing the diamonds. She had meant to take them off, but she hadn't had time to undo the complicated latch as well as pack the small bag that banged against her back.
She saw two figures up ahead. They would surely notice her? People always noticed her. They noticed her beauty and her rich clothes. She ran faster to reach them. Faster, faster. Her hair was in her eyes again. Her dress caught against something. She heard a voice but it seemed so muffled and she strained to hear the words, the searing pain in her head took up most of her energy. You will not cry! she told herself.
Then she fainted.
Terr
Terr glanced back at the young girl. She seemed to know a lot of the languages spoken in Arya, if not all. Walking in the streets of Este was like walking in a sea of bodies. Being jostled here and there by merchants and soothsayers, Terr and Ferya made their way to the west, or 'Yn' distrec. The crowds thinned as they reached their destination.
Freya was like a translator, Terr mused to himself. He knew the first tongue, every one was taught the three tongues. But there were more languages out there. There were four more tongues, and many other languages with more original names. Most of the people living in this district were poor, and there were only a few shops. Terr began worrying that what he hard heard was just a rumor.
Freya
“Onkrai seytar qy la qaer fheylcerynran!”
A mother pushed her young son out of their ramshackle home. The boy carried a ragged bag of books, and was plainly being made to go to school.
“How could anyone study in a place like this?” I murmured, as I looked around at the dirty buildings. “How could anyone live in a place like this?”
“They have nowhere else to go,” Terr answered.
I looked back at the mother. Her skin was a nasty grayish color, a sign of the sickness that had recently ravaged Arya. I swallowed, and pulled my mind back to the business at hand.
“Where are we going to look for Lokan anyway?”
“To start with, we're going to visit Kek.”
“Who?”
“Kek. He was...a friend of my father's. Lokan has been to known to visit him.”
“Why? He a friend of Lokan's too?”
Terr sighed in exasperation. “Kek owned the one and only Graylon tavern in the whole of Este. He isn't a Graylon himself, but he's well-versed in their ways.”
“How did your father know him?”
“For Groth's sake, my father was a Graylon. Now please be a quiet for just a little bit. I need to find my way around here.”
Heath
The people of Gyan are not a forgiving people. They are ruthless people, and had not survived this long because of their kindness and sincerity. Exile was a cold and lonely place, and now that the Gyan's finally had established a place in society, no matter how small and insignificant they were fiercely devoted to protecting their new status. They did not look kindly on outsiders, and the young noble girl who wandered the crowds was definitely considered as an outsider.
Heath watched with a mixed disgust and pity as the girl poured through the dingy side streets, oblivious to the way she stood out in the crowd like a sour thumb. That fool of a girl will certainly get herself killed, Heath thought, and then turned back to his work.
Heath had been in the street business for only a few short months, and already his Gorith, his master, looked up him with an anguished pride. You see, Heath worked for Gorith, bringing him valuable trade items and running petty errands in exchange for food and board. Gorith didn't have much in the way of either, but it was either this or starve.
Right now Heath was on an errand to bring his master back some trade goods, whatever he could get his hands on, really. Right now Heath was warily eyeing a jeweler. Most likely the gems he sold were fake, but he would have money.
With the grace of a street child Heath glided easily to the side of the table, examining each of the vendors’ wares, calculating what was real and what was not. He noticed a small studded diamond necklace, modest in comparison to the rest of the sparkling treasure that were displayed on the table. When the vendor was occupied with a wealthier looking customer, Heath snatched it up, as well as a few odd coins, and tucked it into his pocket.
He had turned to go, smiling inwardly, when a slight hand clamped onto his shoulder. It was the noble girl, her eyes sparkling, her delicate features twisted into a frown. “Put that back,” she said bluntly.
Heath looked around, knowing speaking to a lady of her stature would surely catch a few wandering eyes. He could not afford to be caught now, so he just shook her hand off and kept walking.
But the girl persisted. “My fine sir,” she said loudly to the merchant, “I believe that man has just walked away with some of your wares in his pockets!”
Heath cursed under his breath and began to melt into the crowd of people. Unfortunately the crowd was parted, waiting most likely for a brawl. It was impossible to slip away without being noticed, especially now with the girls concern. Heath spun and faced the vendor, his face a blank mask.
“Yes, that one!” the girl said, pointing one pale finger in his direction.
The vendor, the old fool that he was, left his table unattended and walked over to Heath, his face flushed red. “Empty your pockets, boy!”
Heath watched the surge of people, searching for an escape. His eyes finally came to rest on the noble Lady, her lips pulled into a tight smile, a triumphant look pulled across her face. Heath grinned wickedly. “My good man, have we not all committed sins? Certainly you cannot stand in front of this crowd today and say that you are clean of any such grievances,” he said with all his charm. There was a small sputtering of laughter from the crowd, and the vendor watched him through slit eyes.
“Listen boy, that may be so, but at least I was never as obvious to get myself caught! Now, empty your pockets.” He growled.
Heath grinned. The crowd was now thoroughly enjoying themselves now, and so was he. He smiled and pulled out the glittering necklace from his pocket, mocking surprise. “Why, indeed it seems that one of your jewels has found its way into my pocket!”
“Give it to me boy, and then I'll end your days as a thief. People like you are the ones who give the Gyan a bad name!” the merchant said.
The merchant had the crowd in his palms now. No one would dare defend him, now that his peoples pride had been wounded. But he had a plan. “On the contrary, I think I am the one who will perhaps bring our good people back a little of their wealth, and remind those damned Estens how dangerous we really are!”
The noble girl looked around uneasily as the crowd murmured and chattered amongst themselves. The merchant eyed the girl, small understanding coming to his eyes. He nodded. “Yes, and how is that?”
Heath grinned from ear to ear. He was about to make himself a rich man. “The Lady, my good fellow, it is all in the Lady. You need only to look at her dress to see that she is of noble blood. It would be a pity if she were to, say, go missing, wouldn't it. And I'm sure her family would pay dearly to have her back.”
The girl gasped and tried to run, but Heath closed the distance between them in two easy strides, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close to him. “Play along and you won't get hurt,” he whispered in her ear.
The vendor slapped a meaty hand down on the table. “I want forty per cent of the ransom money!”
“Done,” Heath said, and there was a great sigh from the crowd. Afterwards many flocked to see the vendors wares, ooing and exclaiming over his pieces and chattering amongst themselves. Heath breathed a sigh of relief. Cunning and wit were all you needed to stay alive on the city streets, and perhaps a little luck too.
But now he had the girl to deal with. She twisted around in his arms, screaming wildly and beating her fists again his chest. “Let me go!” she screeched.
“Maybe if you stopped fighting and listened, you stupid wench, I would.”
The girl twisted in his arms, but stopped fighting. “You will not speak to me in such a manor! I am of-”
“Darling, no one cares who your parents are out here. And if you keep talking that way someone worse will snatch you up and will treat you in such a manor!” he said sharply. “No listen, I will let you go. But I want service in your father’s court. And I want the Gyans recognized for what they did in rescuing you.”
The girl eyes him in open mouthed shock. “No! My father will never let some scoundrel, a Gyan no less, into his court! Nor will he give him any credit in saving my life.You endangered it in the first place!”
“You are in no position right now to speak to me so, and if you don't stop your screaming I'll have you killed right here.”
The girl opened her mouth, thought better of herself, and slumped against his chest in defeat. “All right. I will lead you to my father and present you to him. I cannot make any promises, though.”
Heath shrugged. “It is your life on the line, not my own.”
The girl began to scream again, but he didn’t take any notice. Instead he lashed her wrists together and began rummaging through her pockets for any valuables. She had a few things, jewels and a silk scarf, enough to buy Heath into a powerful position in Gyan society. He took out some of her hair pins, which were fine things, and would make lovely dowry for a wife. “Stop your screaming. Have I treated you in any way cruelly?”
The girl looked ready to start her futile shrieking again, but he clamped a hand around her mouth and headed for an inn.
Rụnệ ǖr Ạtǚm
Days later I reached Este. It was indeed a very large and crowded city. Perfect.
Staying clear of the richer parts of town, I wandered my way through town as inconspicuously as I could, searching for a place to stay. I didn't have enough money, or even the right type of money, to stay at an inn, and I knew that one person or another would definitely occupy any 'abandoned shack within these poorer areas of town. With that in mind I made my way towards the outskirts of Este, hoping to find a suitable place there.
I wiped at my forehead. The climate here was hotter than I was used to, and all the people so close together did nothing to improve the situation. It took me a long time to make it to the side of Este that had more vegetation, and thus more cover and shelter in case I couldn't find a convenient shack to locate myself in. I lost my way and got turned around several times. Besides, there were other delays.
Such as the thief who was caught and then squirmed his way out of it by cleverly manipulating the crowd and the man he had stolen from. He had used a rich looking lady for his escape, saying he would sell her for ransom back to her father. It seemed that the people in this part of town, the Gyans, were bitter towards the Aryans. Very bitter. I wondered how they would react to a foreigner such as myself.
When I finally made it through the city and to its outskirts, I found a perfect looking old shack. It was shabby, run down, completely adequate for hiding in. Too perfect in fact. Perhaps there was already some one hiding in it? I searched the ground around the building and found shuffles of sand and dust, signs of recent footprints.
I found a crack on the side of the shack and peered through it. It was dark inside, but still lit well enough by the hot sun that I could see the inside of it. I saw a form lying, bound, on the floor. How suspicious. Cautiously I rounded the shed and opened the door. The figure jerked around to look at me. A look of fear or anger faded from her face as she realized I wasn't who she thought I was going to be.
“Who put you here?” I asked in the Sanys Northern Tongue. Squatting down, I watched her carefully, keeping an astute ear out for other noises. She glared at me and held out her bound hands, demanding I untie her first.
“I tell you nothing until you set me free!” I realized my Northern Tongue wasn't the same language as she was speaking, but she seemed to understand me well enough. Switching my speech from Northern Tongue, I spoke in the most common of the Three Tongues, which was what she was speaking in, and replied, unmoved, to her demand.
“Don't be impertinent,” I said. “I have the advantage over you.” I stood slowly from my squatting position as she struggled to her feet. She didn't look Esten, despite her Este-like clothes.
“You probably wouldn't know the person who put me here,” she responded. Her voice sounded as arrogant as many of my master's voices had. I frowned.
“Who are you to say I wouldn't know? Tell me.”
“All right then, Kall Rayth. He took me from my tribe in the plains and put me here.”
“Why?” I asked dourly.
“Because I'm valuable to him. He has a mission. He expects me to help with it somehow. So he keeps me here until he has use of me.”
I squinted at her. Was she this Kall Rayth's whore? I wondered absently. No matter.
“Your name?” I demanded.
“Lyea.”
I scrutinized her some more, searching every aspect of her carefully. She held out her hands once more, insistent that I free her. She was hardly any good to me bound. Perhaps if I set her loose, she would help me ambush this Rayth when he came by for her later? I wasn't sure whether it would be more useful to steal from him, or to demand he give me a part in his mission, which would also mean his protection, or to simply ask nicely for any information he could give me.
Easing a small knife from my belt, I quickly severed the bonds and then stood back, staying alert to her every move.
I hardly trusted her just yet.
Terr
Soon they were off again, rushing through the streets. Freya still looked quite confused, but followed along. Terr finally came to a stop and looked about. He then entered a doorway, seeming to just disappear into the wall. Freya followed, and was surprised to find herself in a tavern. It was totally empty, like a place where time stood still. Chairs were upturned and drinks lay on the floor smashed. But a fine layer of dust had collected on the room, hinting that the tavern itself had been left untouched for many years. Terr walked confidently into the back room, but Freya followed more slowly, taking note of all the details.
Terr stood stock-still. Kek was not there. He called out his name a few times, but the sound just echoed off the bear walls of the room. When Freya entered the back room, she looked at Terr questionably.
“Why are we here?” She finally had the courage to ask. Terr didn't answer, but his eyes were locked on a paper sitting on a desk by the corner. How odd, he thought as he picked up the paper. He read slowly, taking in all that was said. Freya then asked the question again. “Why are we here?” he then looked up, surprised, as if he was just noticing she was there.
“We have no reason now.” Folding the paper in two, Terr stuck it in his pocket.
“But!” Freya exclaimed. There was no response, and Terr turned to leave. They walked out, bumping into an old beggar. Terr wore a look of deep thought on his face, and walked slower, as if he wasn't paying attention. And he wasn't, for when Freya asked about where they were going, he hardly even noticed her.
Freya finally couldn't stand it, and she jabbed Terr hard on the shoulder. He suddenly spun around, coming out of his trance. She smiled, he actually realized she was there.
“All's meant in good spirit,” she said to him. “But you've been ignoring me, and I've had quite enough of it.”
“Well, now that you've got my attention, what is it that you want?” Terr asked. They were now in the xin district. It was a place where the rich shopped, but wasn't a wealthy place to live. It was better than the Yn district, but not as good as Thirn or Asden.
“This is a nice place, right?” Freya said, half bouncing up and down. “Well, it's better than Yn right?” Terr gave a nod. “Why don't we eat here? We've been walking for ages!” she exclaimed.
“I guess so...” said Terr to her. They entered the first restaurant they saw, and soon they were seated next to a couple of women who were both wearing a lot of heavy jewelry. They were conversing in hushed tones about a lord some-thing-or- other. Then a waiter came, and taking their orders, left.
“And what I heard!” one of the women laughed, loudly enough for Terr and Freya to hear, “Was that his daughter ran away!” the woman stifled another laugh. Just as their meal was served, two people, a young girl and man came into the restaurant. The room stilled, and there was a horse whisper. “My god -- it's her!” |
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