The Taleweaver
Arrival

HarbendGarak was a long way from home, even a long way from his storefrontin Hasselden. But with the western raiders plying their trade alongthe shores again he didn't dare ship anything all the way to distantKhi.

Yearsnow. I know Verd better than Hasselden by now. Strange turn of luck.He remembered the tedious hours at late evening spent studying theoutworlder language. Paid off in the end they did. Oneof only five independents to get outworlder clients. Guess I shouldbe happy. Ofcourse he was never awarded contracts as often as he would have hadhe represented a trading house, but he was content. Thatopportunity and his skill allowed him to avoid sharing the destiny ofseveral other independent traders who found themselves destitute astrade became increasingly difficult under the pressure of theraiders.

Being aforeigner to Keen himself he found the outworlders to be just anothergroup of strangers with peculiar customs. He eventually made fasterprogress in understanding their wants and needs than his fellowmerchants, almost all native to Keen.

He slowlylooked around himself wondering what this group of outworlders wouldbe like and how eager they would be for local jewelry and other itemsof art.

A desk,behind which a female outworlder clerk sat, was a work of art, awonderful item of pear tree almost certainly crafted in Erkateren bya skilled magecrafter.

He coughedquietly in his hand, stretched his back and rose. Waiting was alwaystedious, especially during summer when the heat sometimes made theterminal building almost unbearable.

The hallwasn't very large, maybe twenty paces east to west and thirty northto south. The glass sliding doors facing west were still in place,opening and closing by themselves whenever a merchant happened towalk past them. To the left of the doors were two sofas, with fourmerchants seated in them, three of which wore the green round-hattypical of the trading houses of Krante, a large town an eightdaysride southeast from Verd, three days with coach.

The lastseat was occupied by a woman Harbend had proposed for invitation intothe group of merchants allowed to trade with the outworlders half ayear earlier. She belonged to a minor trading house in Verd.

Harbendgreeted her silently with a slight bow and was rewarded with a smileof recognition as she stretched her booted legs under the table. Nota beautiful woman, he thought, but competent. She was stocky andalways looked out of place, more so with her strange taste forwearing men's clothes. She was also one of the few merchants he hadcome to know during his years here.

He startedsearching for Olvar de Dagd, master of the richest trading house inDagd, and always present whenever she was. It was no secret theyshared more than their profession, and Harbend wondered what madeMaster de Dagd take the plump woman to his bed.

Harbend,concrete wall to his back, looked across a dirty carpet, once red butnow worn to a muted brown, and found the master merchant among agroup of seven. They stood in the leftmost corner closest to the peartree desk rather than using the hard chairs lining the walls.

Olvar'sbright blue contrasted against the gaudy yellow shirts the otherswore. Yellow and green, yellow for Verd and the green added for acosmopolitan touch. They all wore silk, probably imported fromKhanati and dyed in Ri Khi, and very, very expensive.

One merchantleaned over the desk exchanging friendly banter with the blondoutworlder woman sitting behind it. Her white blouse lackedadornments of any kind and the absence of jewelry made Harbend thinkof a meal served without a proper wine. At least she had added somecolor to her face creating a contrast to her blue or maybe greeneyes. Properly clothed she was probably beautiful. The outworldersalways seemed to prefer drab servant's colors, a fact that stillamazed him.

Theremaining three merchants sat immediately to Harbend's right, onesharing the leather sofa he had just left, and the two othersoccupied in a conversation almost lying in the last sofa. One hadplaced his hard heeled shoes on the polished table, making Harbendwince slightly. Behind them he saw the doors through which onlyoutworlders were allowed. In difference from the entrance those doorswere not made of glass but of a solid metal so deep blue that it wasalmost black. The metal alone was worth a fortune here, but then theoutworlders seemed to have an abundance of it.

Turning hisattention to his shoes he noticed a mark and dug for a handkerchiefin a pocket. He polished the silver band hiding the laces. They weregood shoes, sturdy but still elegant, and he kept them in good shapewith a mixture of fat and perfume he always bought whenever he had areason to visit Hasselden.

He traveledtoo much to like the idea of breaking in new footwear. Blistered feetcould ruin an otherwise perfect day. When he was finished Harbend sawthat the outworlder traders had arrived into the hall and wereheading for the desk.

He listenedabsently while outworlder traders were paired with local merchantsand made their way through the glass doors. Fifteen names, fifteentraders but still no Gregory Sanders. So, he was to be assigned thelast out of sixteen as usual.

A suddencommotion closer to the desk made him look up with more interest. Amiddle-aged man clad in something horribly shiny and red withimpossibly blue hair crowning the nightmare, immediately caught hisattention. The unseemly sight transfixed him until the woman behindthe desk broke the spell.

"Oh myGooooooooood! It's Arthur Wallman! Oh my Gooooooooood!"

Thescreeching all but brought Harbend to his knees. The stranger flasheda perfect but pained smile to her while a small horde of outworldersflocked around him.

"Autograph,please!"

"Couldyou sign my color-screen? For my son, you see."

"Asignature on my hat? Yes, right there. Thank you Mr Wallman."

During themadness the stranger regained his composure and Harbend feltstrangely drawn to the almost unnatural air of confident charismaradiating from him. Then the aura of confidence vanished as soon asit had appeared, and Harbend gasped at the expression of utterdesolation taking its place.

Whoever thisman was, he wasn't one of the regular traders, but Harbend acceptedthe strange man as his client even though the name, Arthur Wallman,didn't correspond to the one Harbend had been assigned.

Arthurwinced uncomfortably at the screeching, but he quickly put on hisprofessional mask. Soon he was signing all kinds of peculiar objects,all the while longing for the ordeal to end.

He glancedat his wrist computer knowing he would have to add the local timesystem to its data banks. The communicator he would have to disable,but he hadn't exactly come here to make any extensive calls anyway.For reasons still unexplained to him visiting traders were forbiddento bring any functioning portable communication devices, and thelocals apparently had means to replace out.

Almost atenth of the early years' travelers were caught and permanentlybanned from the planet before the lesson was finally learned, and hedidn't plan to play the role of a very slow student.

His fellowtravelers had all left the room together with the locals.

Notmuch of a loss. After all he'd had his credentialsfalsified, and while on board the merchantman he found himself forcedto hold on to his lies about a secret news coverage for hisnewscasting company. After a few days the novelty of having a famousmedia personality among them wore off and he spent the rest of thevoyage in solitude, which, he found out, suited him perfectly.

The membersof the crowd demanding his attention earlier had vanished back totheir previous doings whether those were machine repairs, paperhandling or cargo lifting, and he found himself almost alone again.

Iwonder how many of those stationed here came just because of myholos, Arthur thought.

Another manin the room, one Arthur had failed to notice earlier, met his eyes.Short and slender, as of Asian origin, maybe 160 centimeters tall,straight, black hair shining with a metallic sheen, most of it in aknot to the left but head otherwise shaved clean. In his mid thirtiesif people aged the same way here as on Earth, and until theirtwenties they were supposed to. Bleached but richly decorated, baggylinen trousers were partially covered by a shirt of the same materialbuttoned only over the chest. The clothes told Arthur hot weatherprobably was what he had waiting. It made sense. He'd arrived in latesummer local time.

Ofcourse, my assigned representative. Poor bastard, he's in for asurprise.

The man roseand greeted Arthur in a singing, outlandish voice. "HarbendGarak, at your service, Lord Wallman."

"Do Ineed your services?"

"Noneneeded, only offered, my lord."

Irritationstill clinging to him as a result of the verbal assault from thehastily gathered fan-club, Arthur lashed out: "Let's get thisstraight. To begin with I'm nobody's bloody lord and what grandservices are yours to offer?"

That madeHarbend blanch slightly. It probably wasn't the start he had hopedfor and Arthur knew he was being rude. He didn't know if the strangergrasped Terran English fully.

"Myfault sir. I am a trader and help visiting traders when they arehere," Harbend tried again.

"Andwhat if such a visiting trader eventually turned out to be no traderat all, but something completely different?" This was gettingfun. Arthur enjoyed verbal fencing and wasn't above taking anyadvantage he could. What wrong could there be goading the stranger alittle?

"Then Iwould still offer him to replace a good place to sleep and eat, goodsir."

"Thenit has to be good indeed. I am God's greatest gift to mankind, ormankind's greatest to God. Opinions vary dependent on who you ask."

"Whichgod?"

What'sso difficult. Here I'm baiting the hook and you won't bite."Then so be it my insistent trader. My trade is not withordinary wares. What I sell has dubious lasting worth where I comefrom and even less here," Arthur said and bent in an exaggeratedbow before continuing, "but do not despair, my gracing yourlands with my presence is not brought on by monetary needs but ratherpersonal ones," he finished after standing straight again.

"Thatwould answer a question I had in mind. I take it you are traveling,ah, what is the word again? Incognito?"

No, hewouldn't bite, and Arthur had waited for this question anyway. Theidentity he'd bought didn't fool anyone. He was too well known, butbribing the communications officer on the space ship had taken careof that problem until he arrived at Theta 47. It was time to end thejoking.

"You'requite right, my good man. Now, what do you have in mind?" Arthuranswered eager to leave the subject.

Weeksbefore anyone can act on my being here anyway.

"It isalready late, sir. We leave and take the train to Verd," Harbendsaid and started for the doors.

Arthurfollowed him through the sliding doors and stepped outdoors onto agravel road. It had stopped raining but the air was still filled withthe aroma of water and wet earth. The rain soaked gravel was slowlysteaming and it was uncomfortably hot.

Arthur sawthe queuing pairs of local and foreign traders waiting to receiveluggage and beyond them a large group of riders. Thirty or so butonly a few of them mounted. All wore the same green and yellowuniforms with swords hanging by their sides.

"Crossbows?"Arthur asked, surprise mixed with disbelief spicing his voice.

"Crossbows,"Harbend acknowledged. "They are the Free Inquisition," hecontinued as if it explained everything.

"FreeInquisition?"

"Ah,well, a leftover from some local troubles a hundred years ago or so."

"So, isthere an Imprisoned Inquisition, or what?"

"No,not really, or at least I strongly advise against any such suggestionas long as you are heard. Keen has its own Inquisition open only forcitizens. The Free Inquisition is open for anyone who is fit andskilled enough and shares Keen's view on the use of the gift."

"Andthat view is?" Arthur asked while he shuffled forward in thequeue.

"Usingthe gift is banned in Keen. Any wielder of the art caught in the actis shot on sight. It is not too uncommon anyone suspected is killedbefore the real investigation starts."

"Oh, Isee," Arthur said glumly. "And why are they here?"

"Theyare still a bit edgy about you outworlders so they control anythingbrought in by your sky ships."

"Istill don't understand. How can they do that, and by the way, why doyou say them and not we?"

Harbendfrowned. "The Inquisition, no matter whether it be the Holy orthe Free, has access to powerful tools draining magic with which tomake certain whatever strange items you bring still works whilewithin reach of their power." He smirked before continuing, "Asfor my exclusion it is simple enough. I come from a land far away tothe south and do not share their views on the use of the art."

"Itstill doesn't make sense. We're supposed to trade our wares in a cityfilled with this magic of yours."

Harbendsmiled. "Magic has not always been banned. There was a time whenmagecrafters lived and worked in Verd. Once it was the very center ofthose artisans. The use of the art is forbidden, but the people inKeen are sensible enough to use what is already there. They havealways been a practical people."

"If so,why ban magic?" Arthur asked.

"Theywere unluckier than most with the power struggles between mages. Alot of dirty small scale wars hit Keen and those living here." Afrown grew on Harbend's face. "And one big one, of course,"he finished, and for a moment there was a shade of regret glimmeringin his eyes.

Arthur musedon the information for a while, and then, as had been the case forhalf a year, his thoughts turned darker, far darker, and he was onceagain trapped in his own internal nightmare.

When Harbenddidn't receive any further comments he turned around eying the uglysky port. The slated roof with its two small gun towers, manned byoutworlder soldiers, were the same as always. From both ends of thebuilding an ugly wall stretched over three hundred paces in eachdirection. The entire complex resembled a long, straight piece of agiant, polished horn lying in the mud.

The horsesnot bound at the arrival gate stood grazing by the wall still saddledand harnessed. He gave the troops a thorough look. Uniforms dirty,leather showing cracks where it hadn't been oiled properly and theyellow and green bore telltale spots of earlier meals. Some of themen had tired eyes and they hadn't even assigned a man to check thehorses feeding by the wall. Of a full squadron less than ten men weredoing anything useful at the arrival gate. Discipline must have grownlax over the last year.

Harbendthrew Arthur a glance but he was deeply occupied with thoughts of hisown. Daylight exposed more of the outworlder. Face angular and wellkept. Blue hair that must have been colored, because brown was hiddendeep beneath it. Eyes shifting between blue and green. Hands that hadnot seen hard work in a long time ended in too large fingersrevealing he was turning fat. As all outworlders he was taller by farthan the average here.

Then therewere the clothes. All of them red, shifting grades of red, all shinyand none of it fitting together. Something never deciding if it was ashirt or a jacket was buttoned onto a pair of trousers so tight onlythe fact that it was of outworlder design and make kept it frombursting. All in all the outfit hurt Harbend's eyes.

Arthurforced his thoughts to the present. It was ironic that the strangeralso was a foreigner here. Maybe he could share some insight in whatit was like living here as one not really belonging.

Arthurrecalled an incident on the surface not too long after the insane,criminal attempt to invade the planet. A decade or so earlier thelocals sent cavalry to take the spaceport by force. Two thousand mendied in the mud that day without ever coming close enough to usetheir weapons. There had been no other attempt since and somehow thelocals had chosen to produce an official report as humiliatinglyunlikely as the one written by the federation military after thefailed assault on the planet. An exchange of military stupidityfinally resulted in constructive communications between the TerranFederation and the local government here.

Strangehow things turn out in the end. I know I should have shot that extraepisode, but what the hell.

Ahead of himeach of the traders received his or her luggage and was forced toopen it, spreading its contents over several tables. What appeared tobe the commander of the Inquisition troops checked that computers,holo cams and viewers still worked as described by the owner.

Damn!They're not fast, are they? We'll be standing here all bloody day!

FinallyTerran trader, local merchant and luggage slowly lumbered away on theunpaved road leading to a ridge west of the launch port. A pair ofrails ran alongside the road and Arthur suspected that whatever rodethem was a far cry from the supersonic magnetic trains he was used tofrom home. As if to prove him right a number of black wagons hissedpast him, solar panels glittering in the sun, and began theirpainfully slow ascent to the ridge.

Crap!he thought. It promised to be a very slow day. He turned to Harbend."Three hours on the train to the capital! I should be able tosee the damn town from here."

Harbend gavehim an amused look. "I would not worry too much if I were you.The train to Verd is a bit faster than that."

"Ibloody hope so!" Arthur replied aghast at the thought ofspending half a day caught in a closed wagon traveling at walkingpace.

Harbendmerely grinned in return, two rows of yellow, but otherwise healthyteeth showing.

Harbendwatched the queue where traders were paired two and two. They werealready exchanging news and gossip with each other, a guffawinterjected from time to time to reward an especially juicy piece ofinformation, but the man he'd been assigned seemed aloof.

Atleast most of this batch have been here before.

Each time anoutworlder trader returned a little bit of color would be added tohis or her garb, and those who'd been trading here for five years ormore often wore clothes tailored in Verd and could easily have beenmistaken for a local had it not been for the shiny informationdevices looking like decorated mirrors they all carried on theirarms. And being a head tallerthan the rest of us, he added as an afterthought.

This timethe sky ship had brought only two newcomers apart from Arthur. Theirgray matching open jackets and narrow trousers were supposed to bevery elegant attire where they came from, but when they finallyarrived in Verd they would learn that only servants wore thosecolors. Well, that also left the question of Arthur. The man simplycouldn't have been here before, but he could of course have learnedhow one was supposed to dress here. From there he must have proceededto get it all horribly wrong.

Harbend kepthis silence and watched the familiar process of Inquisition troopsplaying the part of customs officers, being just a little bit tooarrogant in their attempts to humiliate the outworlder traders.

Growup! We are the same all over the world, all over two worlds it wouldseem, he realized with amusement. As long as traders mademoney the treatment by lowly officials mattered little. Besides, allinsults had to be translated and probably lost most in the process.Harbend wasn't sure all outworlder traders were even aware there hadever been an attempt at humiliation by someone they considered beingbeneath them anyway. He chuckled and stepped in line with Arthur.

Theycontinued waiting while the sun set far too slowly. The heat combinedwith humidity soon made them sweat. The loss of water eventually hadArthur thirsty and with thirst came irritation.

After aneternity in the heat he was allowed to approach the tables. About tocopy the motions of the traders he'd seen going through the procedureearlier the commanding officer suddenly blocked his way. A lengthysmattering of words followed a smug smile.

"Hewants to know what your business is here," Harbend translated.

"That'snot all of it, is it?" Nobloody way thatquestion takes a speech to deliver!

"We donot need to..."

"All ofit, now!"

Harbendshrugged, showing surprise at the sudden edge of command in Arthur'svoice. "If that is your wish. He asked why he should let a,"he halted momentarily, "jester like you pass as you areobviously not a decent trader."

Arthur'sirritation rose but he fought it down. The uniformed excuse for anuntrained dog would pay later. "Tell them I trade in knowledge."

Harbendhastily obliged. The officer sniffed but seemed content with theanswer.

Two bagswere brought from a nearby table and emptied and the soldiersrummaged through its contents. They looked up in surprise when theydidn't replace any of the items they were used to see accompanying thevisiting traders and were barely satisfied with checking the objectsArthur carried on his person. The bags were eventually loaded ontothe waiting cart and the commander started waving Arthur through.

He didn'tmove and confronted the commander with a haughty smile.

Youthink I've been preoccupied enough to spend three hours withoutnoticing the lack of efficiency you show? Military or nomilitary, Arthur always kept a good eye for evaluating personnel, andthe apes here had the stomach to insult him! Idon't fear you. I don't fear anything any longer. You think you canthreaten someone who dies every night? I'll teach you fear!

"I takeit you're done with my luggage. Now, could your servants pleaseproceed to check that my very clothes won't conjure a demon at mycommand?"

He receiveda blank stare in return, and Harbend hesitantly started to translate.

"Why doyou anger the staff-master?" he asked when finished.

"I justdislike him. Could you just tell them to be quick about it?"

Harbendshrugged and complied. The man Harbend had identified as staff-masterretorted, anger clearly heard in his voice and Arthur saw his eyesthinning and knew that the bait had been taken.

"Hesays you had better reconsider your attitude or they will confiscateyour goods."

Arthurlaughed softly, but he remembered the lesson he intended to teach theuniformed idiots facing him and kept most of his mirth to himself.

"Tellthe staff-master he should show less interest in my goods and morecare for his horses. Tell him that it would be unfortunate if all ofhis men had a riding accident later today."

Harbend gaveArthur a questioning look, suddenly looking afraid. "Why..."

"Justdo it!"

When Harbendwas finished the staff-master was white with rage, hand slowlysearching at his side. Arthur stared the man in his eyes, smilingbroadly and it was with grim satisfaction he saw rage giving way tofear. Mouth slightly open, eyes no longer able to keep contact, anervous flicker of the nostrils. Yes! The pig would break.

"Idon't have all day. Either check my clothes or tell your trash to getthe hell out of my sight!" Arthur waved at the cart. "WhenI return next time I expect your lackeys to have a better vehiclewaiting for me."

Harbendlooked at Arthur in frightened wonder and reluctantly translated. Theeffect was astonishing. All soldiers grabbed for their weapons, butwhen Arthur took one step forward they backed away realizing they nolonger had the support of their own officer. Two of them lookedaround in bewilderment, but no help was to be found.

Arthurpointed at the cart. He growled a command he knew Harbend couldn'tunderstand but the soldiers grasped the meaning of it and moved outof Arthur's range as if he had threatened them.

"Harbend,I guess we're on our way then," Arthur said and climbed the cartwithout turning his head.

Harbend ranto Arthur's side nervously looking over his shoulder, but thecrossbow quarrel he seemed to expect never flew and they were soondriving towards the ridge. They had almost reached it before Harbenddared to break the silence.

"Didyou come here to die?" Harbend yelled. "Are you carryingyour funeral altar among your wares, or by the gods, what were youthinking of?"

Arthur gavehim a pained look. "They needed a lesson in attitude. I was theteacher they waited for."

"Butwhat was it all about? I saw the fear of death in their faces."

Arthurturned. "Oh, they were probably only embarrassed," he said.

"Embarrassed?"Harbend was still livid with fear and rage. "Gods, do not trythat on me!"

"Theyshould be. Some time ago troops from here reportedly experienced ariding accident. Official version, of course."

Arthur couldhear short, heavy breaths slowly returning to normal. Harbend wascalming down somewhat. "I heard about that. What happened?"

"Thenormal. They fell off their horses."

"Howmany?" Harbend asked.

Arthurglanced at the tanned face beside him. "Two thousand soldiers,all at the same time. All fatally. Very unfortunate."

Harbend wassilent for a while. "That was still a dangerous thing to do,"he said. "You have been here for less than a day and you alreadystart making enemies."

Arthurdidn't respond. Harbend was probably right, but Arthur had felt outof balance for a long while now. He was more concerned with his ownlack of interest in what he saw, heard and smelled when arriving at anew world for the first time. He used to pay attention to hissurroundings, but the last six months had passed as if wrapped in ablanket woven from strands of oblivion, and now he rarely botheredtaking in what wasn't born from wrath. Danger, at least, made himfeel alive.

But then, ifhe was to be honest, the men manning the gun towers would never haveallowed any harm to come to the famous Arthur Wallman. Almost withregret he admitted that he had never been in any real danger.

Harbendnoted how Arthur turned inwards again and spent the rest of the slowbut shaky ride watching the red gravel on the road between the earsof the mule. He had calmed down by now but hoped the strange traderwouldn't bring an economic fiasco by behaving this way later, becausethat was something Harbend could not afford. News from Hasselden wastroubled these days and he desperately needed money to stave off athreatening bankruptcy despite his trading skills allowing him to seebad times through this far. Either that or throw his two employees onthe street, and honor forbade such an action.

The roadcontinued into what at first sight looked like a cave but at a closerlook was clearly man made. Gravel was replaced by concrete anddaylight by lamplight. The train for Verd waited for them in themiddle of the tunnel ready to run out to the farmlands west of theridge. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke and soot.

"I'llbe damned!" Arthur's voice told Harbend his fellow traveler hadfinally noticed one part of their ride was coming to an end.

"We arethe last. We should enter," Harbend said.

"Alocomotive, a real, honest, black, steam engine. I haven't seen oneoutside a theme park before. Three hours to the capital. No bloodywonder!"

"Stillthe fastest means of traveling in this part of the world. For thepeople living where we are going it is regarded as a mechanicalwonder."

"Oh,the wonders of technology," Arthur answered scornfully as hemounted the stairs.

Harbendshrugged and climbed inside. He sat down by a window and with thetunnel being far cooler than the outside he immediately felt howsoaked with sweat his clothes were. Greatly discomforted he adjustedhis wet trousers.

A sudden tugsuggested that the train had started. A distant rumble confirmed itand the lights in the tunnel slowly passed by.

After ashort while they were out in the open again and Harbend leanedbackwards watching the landscape change character. The ridge markedthe western border of the small territory given to the outworldersand on this side of it farmsteads, planted fields and herds ofgrazing horses and cattle made a stark contrast to the barren landssurrounding the sky port. The large herds of horses played a vitalpart in Keen's dominance over the region. Not only were they anecessity for the cavalry but they also kept the all important tradealive. Keen thrived on craft and trade. Much more so than hishomeland in distant Khi.

Thinking ofhome made him strangely depressed. Eventhough coastal defenses and an exceptional army made any invasionattempt impossible, Keen's lack of a strong navy left the raidersmasters of the sea. That effectively cut his chances to pay his homea visit, not to speak of trading.

As theypassed more fields he noted that harvest would come shortly,detachments of soldiers helping farmers during the busy harvest daysalready marching through the villages. With harvest completed aneightday of frantic celebrations awaited the farmers. It wastradition. Verd celebrated its own version of the festival.

He turned toArthur only to replace he'd already fallen asleep. Harbend smiled. Along day already and it wasn't over yet. He decided to steal a fewhours of sleep himself.