by Adam Witcher
The first few swings dropped a couple of the vegetables. They weren’t clean cuts, but they got the job done. He carried on like this for a while, cutting through three rows of crops and piling them up near the side of the house. Periodically, he came across the tainted plants, casting them aside. The woman stepped out and watched him.
“Here,” she said, tossing him a few garments that looked to be made of burlap. “They’re about as rough as clothing comes, but they’ll do until you find something better.”
Anton dropped the scythe and picked them up. One was something like overalls. The other, a strapped dress. Though they felt itchy and unpleasant, he was grateful.
“Thank you.”
“You really aren’t trying to rob me?”
“No, ma’am. I’m just a bit down on my luck is all.”
“Where are you from?”
He froze. He hadn’t been ready for that question.
“East,” he said. “Far east. My partner and I… we travel a lot.”
She furrowed her brow and squinted at him. “And what do you do when you travel?”
His mind raced. Obviously, he couldn’t tell her the truth, even if she would believe it. If someone from this era thought he could travel through time and build robots, well, they’d think…
“We are magicians. We travel and perform great feats.”
She snorted and laughed. It wasn’t a laugh of disbelief, but one of genuine amusement.
“A magician who can’t stop a thief? Why don’t you just conjure a new set of wizard’s robes.”
He grinned. Despite the insults, he couldn’t help but like this woman. She looked even more appealing out in the sunlight. A plain yellow dress hugged her thick but shapely curves. “I’m not that sort of magician,” he said.
“Ah, charlatans.”
He shrugged. She could go ahead and believe that.
“And what about you? You seem awfully learned for a farmer.”
“I’m not a farmer. My sons are, and my late husband was. I’m a court scribe, I work up there.” She pointed to the walled city.
“Ah, that makes more sense.” He glanced back at the primitive skyline of Jagari. “No work today?”
“Not that it’s any of your business,” she said, putting her hands on her hips, “but no. All court employees are on leave today. Surely you’ve heard about… Oh, right. Perhaps you haven’t. There’s a royal procession coming in today from another kingdom, and the royal family wishes to meet them alone first. It’s a kingdom from the east. Dracos, I think. Maybe you’ve heard of it, since you’re from that direction.”
Anton felt his blood chill. They’d come to the right time and place after all.
“No, can’t say that I have.”
“Nobody has, not that I’ve talked to. Awfully strange if you ask me. Awfully strange too that they wouldn’t want a scribe there to record the meeting. Apparently, they sent out a scouting party a few days ago. I suspect a great deal of gra is involved if they’re trying to keep it off the records. What’s happened to society these days? Jagari never used to have secrets.”
Anton stifled a laugh. You have no idea.
“No matter,” she said. “It’s good to get away from the castle sometimes. Much more peaceful out here.”
He stood awkwardly in silence for a moment
“Thank you for the clothes,” he said. “Would you like me to do some more work?”
“No, no,” she said. “I was going to throw those rags out anyway. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to pull a fast one. Pardon my suspicion, but I’ve been feeling a bit paranoid lately. For obvious reasons. I’m not saying that our kingdom is perfect, but my sons and I have found our place in it. The royal family is at least reasonably fair to us. These new people, who knows? I’d sooner stick with the kingdom I know.”
“Change isn’t always bad.” Anton winked at her. “Anyway, I’ll keep an ear out.”
“What’s your name, magic man?”
He told her the truth, seeing no reason to lie.
“Anton. Strange name, I’ve never heard it before. I’m Sabina.”
“Pleased to meet you, Sabina.” She looked him up and down with a satisfied grin as he pulled on his ragged new clothes.
“You too. You know, you might find luck here in Jagari. They’re suckers for anything that seems supernatural here. The king, in particular, is known to be partial to magic.”
“Good to know,” he said. “Maybe you can put in a good word for me.”
***
Ana was sitting on the ground near the tree line when Anton returned with the dress for her. He tossed her the ruddy garment and she looked at it, puzzled. She turned it upside down and looked at it again.
“I know it isn’t much, but it’ll do for now,” he said. “You were right, by the way, the Draconians are apparently coming today. Any minute now, probably.”
Ana stood up and began removing her white suit, revealing a matching set of bra and panties that hugged her tight curves. Anton paced around, flustered. Ana either didn’t notice or didn’t mention his embarrassment.
Since designing her, he always felt conflicted about his attraction. After all, he created her, and she, at least at first, had nothing resembling human shape or emotion. She’d begun as a tool before evolving into a companion. He had let her choose her own physical form. If she’d wanted, she could have been an obese, wart-covered old man. Instead, she chose a sexy, green-eyed bombshell. He’d never asked her to explain her reasons, though he guessed that she recorded his preferences. Regardless, he certainly didn’t mind. It was yet another reason he was so intrigued by her emotional development.
She finally figured out the proper way to don the clothing, if you could call it that. The dress was meant for a less-endowed woman, and he got generous helpings of her thighs and cleavage. He wondered who had worn them before, because it certainly wasn’t the curvaceous Sabina. He pretended to study her to make sure she looked of the era.
“How does it look?” She asked plainly.
“Perfect,” he said, his mouth partially hanging open. “Uh, we’ll need shoes eventually, but this will have to do for now.”
“Shall we head toward Jagari?” she asked.
“Did you cloak the chronosphere?”
“Yes. It will appear as an enormous boulder.”
“Perfect.”
Chapter Three
Anton and Ana headed toward Jagari, and before long, the grassy plain gave way to a muddy village just outside the city walls. Beyond ramshackle huts and scavenging pigs, a crowd gathered and watched as a procession of black figures riding black horses approached from the distance.
Anton and Ana fell into the crowd. A horn sounded from the walls, ringing out across the land, and the crowd turned at once toward a set of enormous bronze gates. Another procession on horseback emerged as the gates opened. Six brown horses carried knights in plain armor, splitting a path through the crowd. Following them were three white horses which fanned out across the path just in front of the gates. The crowd suddenly burst into uproarious cheers. Anton grabbed Ana’s hand and they shoved their way toward the front of the shouting mass.
Riding the middle white horse was the grinning king. An ornate, gem-encrusted crown topped his wiry, grey hair, and an enormous beard obscured his rosy cheeks. He wore a burnt orange cape which sparkled with patterned amethysts. Beneath his flowing royal garments he appeared to be a well-fed man.
To his right, a woman with silver hair and a tight-lipped mouth sat tall on her horse. An angular nose and jaw gave her whole face a severe expression. Her purple gown began as a high collar around her slender neck and ended in velvety drapes around her feet. She carried herself with confidence and dignity.
Anton’s jaw dropped when he saw the girl at the king’s left. The princess had flowing blonde curls that moved like clouds in the breeze. Her piercing blue eyes swam with worry. A pink silk dress was fastened tightly around her, lifting her breas
ts in an attempt to make them look larger than they really were. Though she was not dramatically endowed, the thin silk draped delicately over her to reveal gentle and inviting curves. To Anton, she looked like an angel.
“So that’s the girl they’re trying to marry off, huh?” Anton said. “Can’t say I blame the reptilians.”
“Her family is indeed an optimal choice,” Ana said. “They appear to be quite revered by their people. This will serve the Draconians well.”
“Right, that too.”
Ana was right about the citizens. Perhaps it was just the excitement of seeing foreigners, but the crowd was ecstatic. They had not stopped cheering since the royal family stepped through the gates. Farmers raised tools in salute, merchants dropped their carts and whistled. The knights on their horses had to hold back the raucous crowd from spilling into the path. As Anton scanned the townsfolk, one man’s dour expression stuck him out of the crowd.
Perhaps Anton’s age or a little younger, the dark-haired man was elegantly dressed in grey and brown robes. A thin moustache sat above his frowning lips. He stood alone in his distaste. While everyone around him jumped and cheered for the meeting of these houses, he was disgusted. He tore his seething stare from the foreign royal family to glance at the princess. Then in a sudden huff, he turned away with a flourish of his cape and stomped off toward the walled city.
Two of the Draconians rode up the path on their ink-black horses. The family patriarch led the procession. He looked much like the king, thick and bearded, but his thick build seemed to be entirely muscle, and his hair and beard were black. Instead of royal garb, he was decked out in an ebony suit of armor. Beside him, his son wore a matching suit. The lad looked to be in his early twenties, clean-shaven with slicked hair and a piercing gaze. Anton couldn’t interpret his expression. It looked to be halfway between a grin and a sneer.
Behind them, four hulking guards strode across the field carrying what looked like a mobile room. It’s frame was made of ornately carved wood which housed green and gold brocade curtains. Whoever rode within it was concealed behind them. Anton wondered what the purpose was for such an impracticality. It must have slowed the procession down immensely.
“Ana, what is that thing?”
“That is a palanquin,” she replied. “A traditional transportation device for royalty. It prevents commoners from being able to see royal women.”
“As if shapeshifting isn’t sneaky enough.”
Taking up the rear of the procession were men clad in matching chainmail and helmets. They rode in silence. One carried a flag which towered above the Draconian procession: a green snake that formed a circle where it began to eat its own tail.
“Who do you suppose they’re imitating?” Anton asked Ana.
“It is theorized by some that the Draconians are capable of inventing a unique human appearance. Historically, they have chosen to imitate people so that they can maintain their disguise and assume positions of power that would otherwise be unavailable. But since we are in a more primitive era, it is not clear that they are imitating anyone.”
“Makes sense.” He’d rather believe that than believe that these monsters had already killed and assumed the identities of an existing royal family.
The cheers were too loud to make out the exchange, but the Draconian king rode to meet the human king, who in turn moved near enough that they could shake hands. They discussed something while their processions waited behind them. The princess nervously stared at the young man, who smiled and winked at her in a way that gave Anton the creeps.
The introductions were lengthy. It was clear that a great deal of formalities was involved. The human king displayed an unmatched enthusiasm. They still couldn’t make out a word of the exchange. Even the commoners who were closest likely couldn’t understand. The eager crowd watched for a while, but some began to lose interest after several uneventful minutes and go on about their day.
Anton looked down at his and Ana’s tattered rags. They were going to have trouble getting anyone’s attention in this state.
“I have an idea,” he said, watching the king laugh heartily at something. “Let’s go to the city.”
Ana didn’t respond, only following when Anton began to push through the crowd toward the walls of Jagari. He hoped the introductions would go on a while longer.
They followed the village along the high stone walls. The crowds dispersed, and the area was once again bustling. The contrast between the ornate tops of buildings within the walls and the sorry state of the outer community was stark. Many of the residents here were dressed in similar garb to Anton and Ana. They trudged around, some looking sickly, hawking beaten up wares or pushing around dirty vegetables on broken carts. There were a few small patches of farmland, where the disorganized lines of fruit and vegetable plants gave the impression of a community effort. Anton wondered why they wouldn’t simply spread outward into the open fields further from the walled city, but perhaps that proximity was his answer.
In modern Jagari, there was no such contrast, unless you counted the one between humans and Draconians. Humans were allocated housing of a mostly uniform size. Being a semi-important member of the technology community, Anton was fortunate to have a standalone house with a basement he was able to expand. Most others lived in monolithic apartment complexes, though admittedly the rooms there weren’t much smaller than the living space at Anton’s house. No human knew where the Draconians lived, though most theorized that they had some subterranean housing complex spread beneath the city-state.
“Anton, what is your plan?” Ana interrupted his thoughts.
“We look like peasants or beggars,” he said, moving past a horse-drawn carriage. “There’s no way we’re going to stealth our way into the royal court like this. We need to make a strong impression.”
“A strong impression seems counterintuitive for a stealth mission.”
Mud caked their bare feet as they walked toward a smaller set of gates, these of wrought iron. A recent rainstorm seemed likely. Ana, who was only accustomed to walking on the hard floor of Anton’s house and laboratory, wobbled like a child taking her first steps.
“You might think so, but we just have to make the right impression. And on the right person. The lady who gave me these rags said the king loves magic. So let’s see if we can’t show him some.”
They approached the gates, where two men in plain iron armor stood chatting. Anton tried to look nonchalant as he strode up to the archway. He didn’t worry about Ana. She always looked nonchalant.
Just before the two reached the opening, one of the guards snapped to attention and held a spear outward to block their path. He flung his helmet’s visor up, revealing a sweaty, unwelcoming face.
“Here to beg and steal from the inner city, eh?” the first guard said, eyeing their clothes. “Find somewhere else to hassle people. We keep things dignified here.”
Anton didn’t mention the irony in the statement. The slums were still visible behind him.
“We aren’t beggars,” said Anton with a big fake grin. “We are… missionaries. From the east. We’ve come to spread and celebrate the word of God in Jagari.”
The two guards eyed them closely for a moment. The second lifted his visor, and they looked at each other. They both looked like they were awaiting the other’s response.
“You have proof?” the second guard asked.
Anton bowed to the men. “Good children of God, we don’t have much of anything, in the material sense. We wear these tattered rags to represent a rejection of material wealth. God’s love provides all the riches we need.”
Anton realized that his smile had become genuine. For once, he was enjoying putting up a façade. Ana, however, maintained a completely blank expression. Luckily, only Anton knew what that meant. She had no idea how to proceed.
“Speaking of your clothing,” the first guard said as he looked at Ana. “Shouldn’t a missionary dress a bit more conservatively than that? Not that I’m c
omplaining.” He gave the other guard a wry grin.
“In our church, we believe that the human body is not a thing to be ashamed of,” Anton said.
The guards both sniggered.
“Then maybe she ought to take off the rest,” the first guard said. “Shouldn’t you be less ashamed?”
More dignified, indeed.
“We know that modesty is important to most,” Anton said quickly. “We wish to respect your customs while we are here.”
“Why don’t you let the lady speak for herself, eh?”
Ana began to open her mouth, and, terrified of what strange thing she might say, Anton interrupted it.
“The lady has taken a vow of silence,” he said. “She has permitted me to speak on her behalf.”
The guards looked at one another again.
“Well, you sure as hell don’t talk like a beggar,” said the sweaty guard. “Your only business here is religion, huh?”
“Our only business anywhere is religion.”
“Fine. Go ahead and pass. This town could use a bit more of the good word anyway, especially if it’ll get all the women to dress like that,” he quipped once more before resuming his tough-guy persona. “But if I find out you’re up to anything else, this spear is going straight up your ass, hear me?”
Anton bowed again, and Ana followed his lead.
“It is an honor to be in your fine city. God’s blessings upon you.”
***
“Anton, I am not accustomed to being deceitful,” Ana said. “I found that exchange confusing and unpleasant.”
“I hate to say it, but you’d better get used to that feeling. Nobody can know who we are or where we’ve come from, and trust me, they’re going to ask. Don’t worry, though, we’ll get a story straight soon.”
The two found themselves on a winding cobblestone street among throngs of people. Despite being a five-minute walk from the outer slums, this looked like a different world entirely. The pedestrians here were clearly in a higher social stratum. Green, gold, and blue robes shone brightly in the late afternoon sun. There were ware stands here, too, but these boasted fine pieces of armor and clothing, weapons and jewels. The scents wafting from the stalls made Anton’s stomach rumble. One portly man boasted about his pork belly soup while a jovial woman waved roasted corn cobs in the air.
