Prince of Malorn (Annals of Alasia Book 3)

by Annie Douglass Lima

  Ernth and the others stared at him suspiciously, wondering what the title was supposed to mean and why he wanted them to see what was on his hand.

  The man named Korram tried again. “I’m glad to meet all of you. What are your names?”

  None of them answered. They had never introduced themselves to Lowlanders before. What purpose would it serve to do so now? No good one that Ernth could think of.

  The older Lowlander slipped off his mule and sidled closer to his friend. “This was a bad idea,” he whispered loudly. “They’re not going to answer you. You can see they’re savages. Just look at their shaggy hair and the animal skins they’re wearing. They even smell like animals. We should leave before they attack us – if we even can at this point.” He glanced nervously around at Ernth and the others.

  Ernth glared at the man. If these Lowlanders wanted his family to believe they were glad to meet them, why the insults?”

  Finally Uncle Korth spoke up, addressing the first man. “What is it you want, Lowlander?” His voice made it clear that whatever it was, he wasn’t interested in giving it. But the stranger brightened, apparently relieved to discover that they were at least willing to talk to him.

  “Well ....” He hesitated, casting about as though wondering where to start. “I was hoping we could all sit down somewhere and talk about that. It’s a long story.” He paused, waiting for a response, but there was none. “You see, I’d like your help,” he began again, but faltered to a stop when he saw the family exchange knowing glances.

  “We can’t tell you where to dig for gold, we don’t want to work in your mines, you can’t use our horses to pull your ore carts, and the goats are not for sale,” Thorst informed him flatly. “We could sell you a little milk if you like, but that’s all.”

  Korram floundered momentarily at this unexpected response; but he quickly collected himself. “Well, yes, a drink of milk would be very nice. Thank you.”

  “Wait here, then,” Thorst ordered sternly. He disappeared into the trees, returning a moment later with two pouches that Grandfather and Thisti must have just finished filling.

  “Ten coppers each,” he announced, holding out his hand for the money before he gave the Lowlander the milk. “And we need the pouches back.”

  “Ten?” Korram sounded aghast. “That’s ridiculous! This is milk, not fine wine. Back home it’s –” Abruptly, he caught himself. “I mean, all right. Ten coppers it is, if you say so. I suppose you do have the monopoly on goat milk out here.” He stepped over to the pack mule and dug in one of the sacks. Pulling out a little bag of money, he fished through it until he found a silver coin, which Ernth knew was equal to twenty coppers, and handed it over. Thorst pocketed it and handed one pouch to him and one to the other man.

  Judging by the tentative way he sniffed before lifting it to his lips, Korram had probably never tasted goat milk before. The flavor was obviously a shock to his taste buds, and Ernth could see that it took some effort for him to force down a long draft. They all watched, hiding their amusement, as he paused for breath, grinned around at them with feigned enthusiasm, and took another swig. “It’s good! Go on, Trayven, try some.”

  The other Lowlander sipped cautiously and then made a face and spat. “Ugh! What a horrible flavor! And it’s warm, too.” He spat again and licked his sleeve to get the taste off his tongue.

  Korram glared at him. “You fool,” he hissed. “You just insulted them, and we’re trying to win their trust.” Holding his own pouch with both hands, he put it to his mouth again and tipped it back to drink all the rest in one draft, as though that would make the family trust him. Licking his lips, he handed the empty bag back to Thorst.

  “Thank you. That was … most refreshing.” He nudged the other man with his elbow until Trayven lifted his own pouch to his lips, moving his throat as though he were swallowing. But when he handed it back, Ernth could tell by the shape and heft that the pouch was still full.

  Ernth couldn’t understand why both men were still standing there. Wasn’t it obvious that he and his family weren’t going to give them anything else? Surely it must be at least as obvious as these Lowlanders’ dislike for goat milk.

  “Goodbye,” he said finally, folding his arms and hoping they would take the hint and leave.

  “Well ... actually, we were hoping we could stay around here for the night,” Korram suggested. “It’s almost dark, and we’ve been riding all day. We’d be willing to pay for lodging if you’ll let us sleep in your village.”

  What could these men be up to? Did they hope to rob the family in the middle of the night? “There’s no way we would ever let Lowlanders stay with us,” Ernth informed Korram flatly.

  “Nearby, then?” the young man persisted. “We have tents. I saw a creek at the bottom of this valley. You don’t mind if we camp beside it, do you?”

  Stupid Lowlanders, thought Ernth. His family never camped too close to water. There were often mosquitoes, and you never knew what wildlife might decide to show up for a drink in the middle of the night.

  “If we say no?” demanded Father.

  Korram seemed about to offer a frustrated retort, but at the last moment he closed his mouth, apparently thinking better of it. When he did speak, his voice was humble. “Then I suppose we’ll have to move on.”

  The family looked at each other again, considering this. Of course, technically they had no actual right to say where anyone else could or couldn’t pitch a tent. But this Lowlander had asked their permission, and giving it might give him the impression they were being friendly; that they might be willing to do other things for him.

  Let’s vote. Uncle Korth, standing behind the men’s backs, mouthed the words silently, reluctant to let the strangers know how they decided things. The rest of them nodded or shook their heads, and Ernth took a quick count, but they were tied. All eyes turned to Grandmother Carch, who, as the oldest person present at the moment, had the right to break a tie.

  She pointed across the slope and announced, “You can camp over by those rocks, only mind you don’t disturb our horses or goats. We keep watch all night.”

  Korram thanked her courteously, though Ernth could tell the Lowlander understood the warning behind her words. He turned and led his mule off in the direction indicated, his friend following with the other two animals. They weren’t even out of earshot when other man began grumbling again.

  “I told you they’d be unfriendly, your Highness. Have you ever seen such lack of hospitality? They’ll never agree to help you. We may as well start back toward home in the morning.”

  Korram ignored him. “Go down to the creek and see if you can catch us some fish for supper,” he ordered. “I’ll try to find some dry wood for a fire.”

  As Ernth and the others ate supper around their own fire that evening, they kept an eye on the two Lowlanders, whose camp was not far away. They had hobbled their mules, set up two large gray-green tents, and unloaded their packs onto the ground nearby. Now they were roasting fish over their campfire and trying not to make it obvious that they were watching the family.

  Well, they could buy more milk in the morning if they felt like spending their money on something they obviously didn’t like, Ernth thought. But whatever else they wanted, they weren’t going to get it. No doubt they would soon realize that and be on their way.

  The next morning, after the family had finished the milking and everyone had drunk their fill, Uncle Korth and Aunt Silanth took the goats out to pasture at the top of the nearby slope. Ernth volunteered to gather lumjum for breakfast, mainly because the patch he had found yesterday was near the Lowlanders’ camp, and he wanted to keep an eye on them. While the others divided up the rest of the day’s work, he picked up a basket and strolled toward those angular tents.

  He could hear snoring from inside one of them. The other was quieter, but Ernth thought he heard rustling in there. Maybe one of the Lowlanders was awake.

  It was just light enough for Ernth to see the patc
h of dark green bushy leaves standing out against the paler green of the grass. Setting his basket down in their midst, he knelt and took hold of one set of leaves, leaning back to pull up the bulbous gray root. Hungry, who had followed him over, lowered her head and began tearing up mouthfuls of dewy grass for her own breakfast.

  A tent flap opened and the younger of the two men – what was his name? – crawled out, yawning. He stood and stretched, and then started as he caught sight of Ernth and the horse. “Oh, hello. I didn’t see you over there. Good morning.”

  “Mmm.” Ernth snapped the leaves off the lumjum root, brushed most of the clinging dirt away, and tossed it into his basket.

  The man walked over and crouched down beside him. “What are you doing?”

  “Picking lumjum for breakfast. What does it look like I’m doing?” Ernth seized another handful of leaves and tugged.

  “Lumjum? That’s a funny-sounding word. What is it?”

  “This, of course.” Up came the root, and the Lowlander stared at it, head cocked curiously to one side, as Ernth brushed it clean and broke off the leaves.

  “I’ve never seen that plant before. It looks a little like a turnip, but fatter. Does it taste like one?”

  Ernth had no idea what a turnip was, and didn’t care. “What do you want, Lowlander?”

  The young man shrugged. “I’m just trying to be friendly. What’s your name?”

  “None of your business.” Ernth pulled up a third root, relishing the quick frown he saw pass over the Lowlander’s face at his rudeness.

  “Mine is Korram,” the man reminded him, obviously controlling his annoyance with an effort. “And yes, I am the Korram.” He paused, watching Ernth as though waiting for a reaction. Ernth didn’t react. Why should he?

  “You know, the Prince of Malorn,” the Lowlander prompted.

  Whatever that meant. “Yes, you said that yesterday. Why are you here, Prince of Malorn?”

  It was the wrong question to ask. The Lowlander brightened. “I’m so glad you asked! I’ve traveled all the way from Sazellia to find your people. I need to talk to all of you about a serious issue facing our kingdom. Would you be able to take me to your village?”

  “Village?” Ernth knew what a village was, but he didn’t understand the question. Lowlanders lived in villages. They were made up of permanent buildings. Why was this person asking Ernth to take him to one?

  “Yes, your village. You know, where you live,” Korram explained. “I can see that your family is on the road right now, just like I am. I know Mountain Folk travel a lot. But where do you live when you’re not traveling?”

  That question made no sense either, and Ernth didn’t bother to answer. He just kept on picking lumjum, and after a moment Korram reached out, grabbed a handful of leaves, and tugged. He had chosen a big one, and he wasn’t grasping all the leaves properly, so it didn’t come up. He braced himself and yanked harder, toppling suddenly onto his backside when the root broke free of the soil.

  Ernth chuckled at the Lowlander’s embarrassment. Korram’s face turned red, and Ernth got the impression he was about to snap out an angry comment. But the Prince of Malorn held his tongue, brushed himself and the lumjum off, and removed the leaves as he had seen Ernth do. “Well, I got it up, anyway,” he pointed out defensively as he tossed the root into the basket.

  Ernth frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “Helping you.” Korram reached for another set of leaves.

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “But I need yours. Listen, if you’ll just tell me how to get to where you live, I’ll go there and leave you alone.”

  “Why do you want to go there?”

  “I told you, to talk to your people. It will be easier to explain things to everyone at once.”

  Ernth jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the family’s tents. “I live over there. Isn’t it obvious?”

  Korram looked puzzled. “But where are the rest of your people? The other Mountain Folk?”

  What a stupid question. Ernth shrugged. “How should I know? They’re all camped with their own families somewhere in the mountains.”

  “You mean – you mean you live in tents all the time? You don’t have a permanent village anywhere?”

  Ernth pulled up another lumjum root. “Villages are for you Lowlanders.”

  Korram was silent for a moment, and when Ernth glanced at him, he saw understanding dawning in the young man’s face. “I don’t believe it!” the Lowlander exclaimed in wonder. “I’ve just learned something new about the Mountain Folk. You’re completely nomadic, aren’t you? I’m not sure anybody back in Sazellia realizes that! I mean, we all know you travel a lot. Everyone knows someone who’s seen a Mountain Folk camp on the lower slopes or a Mountain Folk family stopping to trade in a foothill town. But I’ve always assumed you just take a lot of hunting and foraging trips, the way some Malornian fur trappers travel through the foothills for weeks or months at a time. I never knew that your tents are your homes.” He grinned as though he had just made a great discovery. “I can’t wait to tell Arden and my family. One of the mysteries of the Mountain Folk, solved at last!”

  Ernth’s basket was full, and he was tired of the stranger’s babbling. Rising to his feet, he trudged down the slope toward the creek, leaving Hungry grazing by the tents. Korram jumped up and hurried after him.

  “But it will make my mission much harder,” the Lowlander continued, as though talking to himself. “I have to speak to your whole tribe, or as many of them as possible. Surely you can give me some idea of how I might be able to do that.”

  Ernth dumped the lumjum out onto the bank and sat down to wash them, dipping his feet in the cool water. Korram, who was wearing boots even though it was still late summer, sat a little further from the water and watched him, his brow furrowed as though deep in thought.

  When Ernth had finished the job, the Lowlander trailed after him back up the slope. “Do you have any more of that goat milk that I could buy from you?”

  “Yes.” Why this strange fellow wanted it when he obviously disliked the flavor, Ernth had no idea; but if he wanted to pay them his money, he was certainly welcome to do so.

  “What about breakfast?”

  Ernth frowned. “What about it?”

  “Could I buy something to eat? Like whatever you’re going to make with that lumjum. I assume you’re going to cook it, right?”

  “Of course. Raw lumjum tastes awful.” Ernth had eaten it out of desperation when undertaking the Rite of Acceptance, but of course the Lowlander didn’t need to know about that. “I’ll have to ask the others, but I suppose we could probably sell you some food.”

  If we can get him to keep paying us for food and drink, in a few days we’ll have enough to go buy the supplies we need. Then we can travel higher into the mountains and get away from him and all the other Lowlanders for a while. At least until after mid-autumn. Ernth smiled at the thought. And once he runs out of money, he’ll have to go away and leave us alone.

  Trayven was just crawling out of his tent, tousled and bleary-eyed, when Korram returned to their campsite. “Good news,” he greeted the servant. “Our neighbors have just invited me to breakfast!” Well, sort of.

  “Better you than me,” Trayven mumbled, straightening up and stretching. “I’ll stay as far away from those savages as I can, thank you.” He crouched down in front of the ashes of last night’s fire, yawning and poking through them with a stick to search for any live coals.

  Korram coughed as fine gray ash drifted toward him in the morning breeze. He wished Rampus had chosen an attendant with a little less prejudice to accompany him on this journey. Then again, it would work out better in the long run if Trayven didn’t want to be around when Korram talked with the Mountain Folk.

  “In that case, you can go down to the stream and wash our extra clothes. Then see if you can catch enough fish for lunch and supper. While you’re there, look for berries and fruit. There
must be some around. And don’t forget to water the mules.”

  With a voluminous sigh, Trayven got up and began to pull dirty clothes from their packs. Korram crawled into his tent to be alone, lying down on the rumpled blankets to think while he waited for breakfast time. The young Mountain man had told him to come back with his money in a little while when they were done cooking, though Korram wasn’t quite certain how long “a little while” was supposed to be.

  He was proud of himself. The sun wasn’t even up over the mountains yet, and already he had learned how to harvest what was probably one of the Mountain Folk’s major food items, and discovered a key aspect of Mountain Folk culture. In addition, he had successfully engaged one of them in conversation, even though it had been all too obvious that the young man wanted nothing to do with him. Korram had never enjoyed trying to make small talk with strangers, but he had done it, and he had even held his temper the whole time. It had been no easy feat for him, especially in light of the fellow’s rudeness and the fact that Korram had been too excited and nervous to sleep well last night. For some reason it was always harder to keep his temper when he was tired.

  As soon as Trayven had left their camp, everything was quiet. Korram lay there in the stillness, listening to the birdsong and wondering if he would be able to get the Mountain Folk to open up to him a little more at breakfast. Before he knew it, he had drifted off to sleep again.

  Chapter 4

  Korram awoke with a start to the distant murmur of voices. How long had he slept? Hastily, he crawled out of the tent and hurried toward his neighbors’ camp, where they sat talking by the fire.

  He gazed around eagerly as he approached, taking in his first close look in daylight at their camp. Half a dozen low, rounded tents stood in a rough circle. A small herd of shaggy horses grazed freely on the slope nearby, though the goats he had glimpsed the evening before were nowhere to be seen. Men and women of various ages, along with a few small children, sat on goatskin mats around a campfire. They were all dressed in animal hide breeches and tunics with soft leather belts wound around their waists, and their feet were bare. All of them fell silent as he approached.