by Jem I Kelley
“Discs!”
“There were thirty, perhaps even forty, in the secret room - weren’t there Aden?”
Aden nodded, unsure whether letting anyone know of the artefacts while still in prison, was a good idea.
“And how many of those fell into your pockets?” asked Savernake.
Bliss smiled. “We took one each.”
“I see,” said Savernake, “Well, after what you’ve both gone through I can hardly blame you. He paused as his thoughts wandered. “But how does this add to our knowledge of the Dazarian’s? We learn they have artefacts. Have they got these artefacts from a cache of their own, or from some Haverland source? Do the artefacts work, or are they duds? If they had working artefacts I am sure they would use them. They would try to gain allies from other worlds, to boost their armies, to mine for minerals. Exploration and diplomacy would take time, though. Two or three years could elapse after gaining working artefacts before the results showed…”
Savernake’s took a slow intake of breath.
“Tell me. Were the artefacts arranged into tested and not tested?”
Aden answered. “They didn’t seem to be. They were all jumbled into one box on the floor in the secret room.”
“You haven’t tried pressing the buttons on the two you own?”
“You’re joking aren’t you,” said Bliss. Her jaw had dropped at Savernake’s suggestion, and her eyes held a hint of dread at what such an action might lead to. “No chance.”
Savernake let out a sigh of relief.
“Good. Whatever you do, don’t press the buttons. May I?”
He stretched out his hand; Bliss hesitated, and then passed the artefact across the table. Savernake held the object close to the light of a candle and marvelled at it, tracing his finger along the whorls of the blue pattern embossed on the milky surface. His eyes gazed at the mechanism within. His voice had dropped to a whisper.
“It’s glowing ever so slightly, but I gather even the non-functional ones do.”
“That’s what we’ve heard too,” said Aden.
“Artefacts…” said Mr Savernake, turning the thing in his hands one more time before handing it back to Bliss. “One more factor to add to all the others.”
The children had talked with Savernake for so long Aden feared Mareek would charge into the laundry room ranting. He said as much to Savernake who finished his speculation and bade the children stand. He walked around the table and put his hand out to Aden.
“You’re to be released soon. This might be the last time I ever see you. It’s been an honour, and I judge you a true friend.”
Aden felt a lump in his throat as he shook Mr Savernake’s extended hand. Savernake’s eyes seemed moist and he blinked several times. Next he went to Bliss, and again put forward a hand.
“You too, Bliss, are as noble a friend as a man could want. Shake my hand in case we never meet again.”
Bliss ignored the hand, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Savernake and began to sob. Aden had never seen Mr Savernake look as uncomfortable as he did at that moment.
Chapter 10: Gnashlok
The day of the children’s release from prison arrived with startling news.
“The prison governor’s returned from the Far East,” said the guard sliding the wooden tray of gruel under the bars of their cell door. “He came home this morning.”
When the guard moved down the corridor, Bliss swung to face Aden, her eyes frantic with fright.
“Tanest’s back!? He wasn’t supposed to return until well after we’ve gone! If he sees what I wrote on the wall with that stick of charcoal, we’re dead!”
The hours stretched and the children paced the floor of their cell unable to shake off the worry that at any moment their theft of the artefacts from Tanest’s secret room would be discovered. But no-one clanged the alarm bell on the top of the gatehouse, and no-one charged into their cell to drag them off to the torture chamber.
Mid-morning and with nerves frayed, Aden thought they’d been rumbled when a short necked prison guard jerked their cell door open. Too their relief, Sarif, as he was known, explained they were to be released now and he would to lead them to the main gate. He threw their old clothing (that they'd first arrived at the prison in) on the floor and waited outside as they changed out of the prison arrow stripes. Both children took the opportunity to strap the small artefacts to their chest with cloth before putting on their shirts.
Out the cell they followed Sarif along the corridor towards the gate of the main building. On the way some prisoners called out good luck, most shouted insults. Aden expected Mareek to fly at them and search for stolen artefacts. He suspected Bliss struggled with the same worries, as his friend kept looking over her shoulder.
When they passed Gnashlok’s cell they heard a noise.
“Oi! I hear yer leaving us?”
It was the half-ogre, his broad face pressed up against the bars. Aden stared at the creature, monstrous with his brooding brows and scythe-like tusks.
“Yes,” said Aden.
“Back to the safety of Haverland, eh? Nice safe Haverland. Never seen the place, heard it’s pretty though.”
Gnashlok wouldn’t know the children knew he would be going to Haverland as part of the plot against the city. He wouldn’t appreciate the fear they felt as they imagined his muscle bound body rampaging through the cobbled streets.
On Gnashlok’s face was a disturbing smile. “Let’s hope we never meet again.”
Sarif led the children to the studded wooden doors which towered over the exit from the prison. The guard hauled the timber bar aside and heaved the doors open. A vast market came into view; Aden was stunned by the colour he saw and the odours he smelt.
In the gatehouse above, he heard guards pace to and fro. Aden thought of the artefact strapped to his chest and felt fear shoot through his body.
“Get on with you then...” said Sarif.
“Wait!”
It was Mareek, jogging towards the children, his cheeks and belly bouncing with each step, his face contorted with urgency.
Aden glanced past the open gates of the prison and exchanged a look with Bliss. Should they attempt to run for it? He thought of the guards above and the crossbows they carried. The odds were neither he nor Bliss would make it too safety. Of course, if the artefacts were found on them, a bolt in the back might be a good death compared to the alternative. His throat constricted as he frantically tried to decide what to do.
His indecision proved fortunate as Mareek shouted. “Got a leavin’ present for ya.”
Aden relaxed. Leaving present, Mareek said. You don’t say that to someone you’re about search. Something like ‘Stop now!’ would be the words.
Mareek arrived, panting. Red blotches had blossomed on the skin of his slab-like cheeks from the exertion.
“Stuffin’ lungs,” he said trying to catch his breath. “Stuffin’ lungs and coughing phlegm. Need a cigar I do. Stuffin’ lungs and all for you miserable brats too.”
He winked at them in a brotherly way, putting a ham-like hand into a pocket, and withdrew it as a balled fist.
“Who wants it?”
“Wants what?” said Aden.
“Stick out yer hand.”
Aden did so.
Mareek dropped coins into it. “You had money on yer when yer arrived two years ago and you’s got money on yer now.”
Aden stared at the coins. “Oh,” he said, “Thanks.”
Mareek waved his hand as if to say ‘it was nothing’.
“Now listen sharp me little scamps. Tanest returned early this morning and he’s sleeping his journey off now, like he’s entitled too. Before he took himself ta bed he gave me a list of chores to be complete ‘fore evening when he says he’ll be about again. Anyhow, cuttin’ a long story to its quick, I’m as busy as a blue assed fly. Busy as hell I am. Hates to be so busy but Tanest’s the master, so it’s gotta be. But I hates it. And I ain’t got time to worry about schedu
les and times. So I’m kicking you out now, an hour early.”
Mareek coughed and took a deep breath. Aden noticed dust and feathers on the man’s clothing: had he been cleaning the aviary where the drugs were made?
“I told yer embassy you was coming out at noon today and they said they’d send someone for yer. I ain’t had time to tell ‘em you’ll be out earlier, been too busy, too busy by half. So it’s up to you to work it out.”
He turned then, and ambled back towards the main prison block. “Frickin scamps.”
Sarif flicked a glance at Aden’s hand containing the coins, with greedy eyes.
“Well, what are you two waiting for then? Scragg off.”
Aden nodded to Bliss and the two edged past the studded wooden doors.
At long last they were free of the prison… but many leagues and potential dangers stood between them and home.
Chapter 11: The Water-Seller
Two years of their lives was a long time. It was an emotional moment. Aden felt a lump in his throat and memories flashed through his mind: the Dazarian judge finding against them, the stripping of their belongings and cloths, the itchy prison uniform, the first night in the cells, the first encounter with Gnashlok, and the time the lizard man had attacked him.
There were pleasant memories too, though not many.
He paused as the doors of the prison swung shut behind him. The fear of being caught with the artefacts ebbed now, and he realised how hot this day was. The sun boiled the air, making it as dry as sawdust. Waiting here for the representative from the embassy wasn’t an option.
“Do you know the way to the embassy?”
Bliss looked at him, and shook her head; beads of sweat had formed on her brow. “No. I don’t fancy trying to find out either, wouldn’t want to get lost in this city. Tanest’s not going to be up and about until later either, according to Mareek. That means we haven’t got to worry about him seeing what I wrote on the wall of that secret room, for now at least. So, it’ll be safe to wait here for whoever is going to come to fetch us. What do you think? Shall we find some nearby shade until the embassy man comes?”
Aden put his hands over his eyes and looked at the bustle before him. The fringes of the sprawling market began not far from the prison walls. Spans of cloth hanging like horizontal sails from tall masts bestowed shade on those beneath.
“Yeah. In there’ll do.”
He pulled the money Mareek had given him, from his pocket and looked at it. What he saw was about one quarter of the money he recalled having two years ago: much of it must have gone into someone else’s pocket, possibly that of Mareek himself.
They entered the market and the shade.
The place bustled. People talking, haggling and arguing; no-one noticed them trying to find their way through the throng. Aden stumbled as a women shouldered past him carrying a wicker basket full of fruit, he bumped into a swarthy man who glared at him and growled: ‘Watch where you are going!’
Aden saw Bliss was having trouble too.
“Busier than our market back home!” he shouted.
“Not as good though,” returned Bliss, grimacing as a man carrying logs crashed into her.
Keeping a close eye on each other, the two weaved and dodged their way forward. They skirted fruit stores and sellers of pickles, nuts and spices; Aden felt the rich aromas waft across him, clearing out the stench of two years prison. A hook-nosed women in a rough frock glowered as the crowd nudged Aden towards her tray of fudges. Aden glimpsed her fingers stretch for a cudgel. He pushed away and back into the throng.
Occasional shafts of heat from the desert sun played across their heads. Mostly they stayed in the shade cast from the spans of cloth above. The two forged through the crowds and hoped they would come to a place that sold drinks.
Bliss curled her lip as she looked around. “Most of the goods here are rubbish.”
“They don’t have discs,” said Aden, acutely aware of the one strapped tight to his chest. It was Haverland’s artefacts which made the country so different from all others. Trade from the other worlds gave their market, the Haverland Central, a uniqueness.
Bliss wiped beads of sweat from her forehead, the curls of her hair stuck wet to her scalp now.
“Imagine having to be a market porter in this heat, too. I don't think I'd last an hour here.”
Aden’s tongue felt like a dry rag, and he nodded in agreement.
They pushed deeper and approached a stall containing creatures placed in bowls and cages. A man with a blunt nose and thick eyebrows dropped crickets into a cage that held a scorpion. Bliss tugged at Aden’s shirt then pointed at the creature in the cage to the right of the scorpion.
“Neat toad.”
She tapped the mesh in an attempt to get movement from the six-legged thing. It gazed at them with unblinking bulbous eyes.
Aden wasn’t impressed. “It’s from a Dazarian oasis. I saw one like it in our market once.”
“Wouldn’t mind a toad,” said Bliss. “Or a tortoise.”
“If I were a toad I’d rather be sitting in a warm muddy pond than looking out of some kid’s cage,” replied Aden. He didn’t know if it had been the two years in prison, but suddenly he thought a lot of what he saw on this stall was cruel.
Bliss made clicking noises at the uninterested amphibian.
“You look thirsty to me,” said a voice.
Aden spun to see a spare man of dark complexion with a bushy moustache, a lined face and friendly eyes. A tattoo adorned his high forehead; it was shaped like a star and was bright red. He was burdened with a battered bronze contraption on his back. From the contraption, a tube ran, and around his waist was a bandolier of wooden cups.
He pulled a cup from the bandolier, cleaned it with a cloth, and half filled it from the tube that ran from the contraption.
“Very nice, very clean water; one small free sample.”
Bliss beat Aden to the cup and lifted it to her lips, and drank eagerly.
She smacked her lips, gave a burp and handed the cup back to the man.
“Phew, needed that.”
“I know, indeed I do. I’ve been on this market thirty years now. After the first ten years I could tell at a glance of their face if someone was thirsty. After the second ten years I could sense so without even looking at their faces. Now, would you believe it, I can sense anywhere in the market someone who is needy of my water. It took me some time to get to you mind, you move quickly.”
Bliss inclined her head toward Aden. “Can my friend have some water too?”
“Why indeed. We cannot allow one and not the other, can we?”
The man un-slung the tube and from it refilled the cup. Aden received the cup and drank. The water was fresh and cool.
He gave the cup back to the man, who cleaned it and slotted it back in the bandolier.
“You won’t make much money giving away the water,” said Bliss.
“I hope miss, that a small free sample would entice you to purchase a large sample.”
“What if we don’t have any money?”
The man smiled and his thick moustache lifted to show bright teeth.
“You tell anyone that asks that the best water seller you ever knew was in the Dazarian market. He found me when I was thirsty and he gave me the water I needed, for free.”
Aden put his hand in his pocket, and withdrew a few coins.
“We’re still thirsty,” he admitted, taking a liking to the man: “How much?”
“The little bronze one will do good sir.”
The man plucked the coin from Aden’s hand and dropped it into a pouch that hung from the bandolier. He drew forth a larger cup and filled it with water from the tube, before handing it to Aden, who drank. The man cleaned the glass and offered Bliss the same amount.
“One Dazarian bronze! Seems cheap,” said Aden. “You should work in our market.”
Bliss finished the water and handed the glass cup back to the man, who cleaned it and with
a clever flip, lobbed it directly into the hole in the bandolier it belonged. He leaned close to the children and lowered his voice.
“Water sells better in a desert climate, than a temperate one. Indeed it does. Well, good day to you sirs.”
He turned to go and Bliss tapped his shoulder.
“What’s the best way to the Haverland Embassy from here?”
The water-seller pointed towards a rose coloured minaret at one end of the market.
“That way good, folk..”
“Is it a long way?”
The water seller showed his white teeth. “It does depend good miss. Indeed it does. If you know the way then it is not so long. If you don’t then it could be longer than you’re prepared for and nastier too.”
Bliss frowned, and changed tack. “Is there anywhere we can eat around here?”
The water seller pointed in a different direction. “Underneath the striped canvas, see?”
The friends followed his outstretched arm and saw, about fifty paces to their right, the shade giving canvas change in colour from tanned to stripe.
“Yes.”
“Underneath is Groucho Gaulz’s eatery. Indeed it is. He makes very fine food and his prices are good but his disposition not so.”
The water seller pointed in a third direction.
“Can miss see the stall where the yellow flags flutter?”
Bliss strained her neck to look above the throng.
“Yep, got it.”
“That’s Razisz Eatery. Good service, good food, very expensive.”
Chapter 12: Sardohan
“He was a right odd one,” said Bliss as the water seller disappeared into the crowd.
Aden stared at the fluttering flags of Razisz eatery. “Why did you ask about food?”
Bliss patted her stomach. “Why do you think? I’m feeling peckish. By time we get to the embassy we’d have missed any dinner going. We might as well get a bite now to keep us going until tea-time. What say we use those few coins by having a snack, then have a look around the market? Before we know it it’ll be noon and some old clerk from the embassy’ll be here to collect us?
