Those already in the square scattered with wild shouts. Smaller carts and farm wagons were filling the square as more and more people poured in from the surrounding district.
The Dog and Girl was a two story building and the largest in the village. As far as anyone knew, the village had actually grown up around the inn. Rumour and story had it that the inn had been built in a past age. Its foundations were of huge stones deeply buried in the hard earth, and they outlined a building of much larger size than the one that now stood. Even the name was a mystery. The Dog and Girl was the name on a painted sign swung on cross bars on a solid post in front of the inn. On it was painted a girl in flowing dress with a large shaggy red haired dog on a lead beside her. The girls cloths were strange. No one wore cloths like that in any land that was known, even by the Traders. No one had ever seen a dog like the one she led. In the background of the painting stood a stone monolith with strange writing on it.
The innkeeper, Daga Domain by name kept the sign in good repair. As had all of his ancestors before him. A tradition as binding as that of the inn itself remaining open. The inn never closed although trade was spare most times. The busiest days were celebrations of Harvest and the two days – shruq dyal shshems and ghrub dyal shshems - that marked the longest and shortest days of the year. Weddings and Name Days, funerals and celebrations of good fortune often kept the inn lamps burning well into the night.
This night had the makings of the busiest night the inn had seen since the passing of the Queen’s Guard this way many years ago. That had been the last time that trouble had come to the village. The wild hordes of Tharsians from Mordos Gloom, the dark forest far to the east had taken to raiding farms and small villages bordering on the plains. They carried off the people and live stock and put all else to the torch. Word had got back to the city of the Queen, Nan Hai. The city lay in the south of the lowland country of Xiao Altai. The city of Nan Hai was ancient. It was said to be the most ancient city in the land. It had been built in a time long past by people long disappeared. Those living there now had come to the city only two thousand or so years ago, long after the great ages of the past had come to an end. Long after the last great battle between The Dark Lord and the Forces of Light. Long after the passing into myth and legend of the Lord of the Dragon Armies.
The Dog and Girl began to fill rapidly. The men jostling for chairs and benches in the vast common room. The women heading instead to the house of the Women’s Council. Regardless of the men thinking that they alone ran things and made all the decisions, nothing took place without the approval of the women’s council. It had never been openly decided. It was just the way it was. In matters that effected the social and cultural life of the district the women held sway. In matters of the land, or of war and turmoil, the women gladly left matters to the men. So they said at least.
Except for the Warrior Maidens. The Mare Altan. They were a law unto themselves. They were under the guidance of the elders of their clans. Those considered too old to fight, or those in whom the Gift of the Wind was strong formed the core of the clan. The young ones were the warriors. It was they who now kept the roving bands of Tharsians from destroying completely the otherwise peaceful life of the people of The Star Field Plain.
It was hard to tell the age of these women. Not all were young, some showing streaks of grey at the temples, their hair pulled back and tied into braids that hung down their backs. Once a maiden came back from a raid with her hair in a braid it was a foolish foe who crossed her path after that. No girl taking up the spear and the bow could braid her hair until fully trained and considered so by her peers. This nearly always meant the death of an enemy in combat. With the Tharsians raiding out of Mordos Gloom on a regular basis the warriors were in no short supply of enemies. The Queen’s Guard were many weeks away to the south, and the Catharsis raids were left to the warriors of the plain to deal with. It was the Spear Maidens who kept the peace and security of the Star Field Plain. Indeed throughout the whole of Da Altai and Xiao Altai. The last Trader to put a number to them had counted fourteen clans across Da Altai and each of these had a number of septs making up the clan. It had been the same in Xiao Altai. Fourteen clans, and septs making up each clan. The sept numbers were unknown, and apparently a secret. It still made up a number of well over one thousand warriors. It was said that a squad of Maidens could run down a horse and still continue on at a steady pace for as long as they chose. Horses formed a part of their lives, but many a foe had found that the maidens were just as deadly on foot as mounted. Perhaps more so.
Their clothes were the colours of the land, all browns and greens and greys. They could hide behind a blade of grass it was said. As deadly as they were in battle, they were still the children of the villagers and farmers of the districts, and were treated still as their children by the mothers. It was a matter of great pride for a family to have a daughter take up the spear or a son to join the secretive societies of the warrior men. Those girls found to have the Gift of the Wind had no choice. They were shown respect and love, and included in the daily lives of the people of the plains. Only their foes need have fear of them.
In all cases though, the girls left home and moved to the clan house, later choosing which sept they would belong to.
The villagers and farmers of the plains rarely gave thought to these things though. Life went on in a steady round of work and rest, and a little social life at small market days in the village square or on the common by the West Water. Occasionally a Trader or travelling Story teller would happen by and this was usually enough for Daga Domain to mount an extra keg of ale or two in the huge racks behind the serving counter of the inn. The men and women of the district would come into the village for a few hours of happy socialising, and perhaps a little half-hearted horse trading between the herders and the Maidens.
Today was very different. The earth itself had shaken. Chickens and livestock alike had taken flight on farms and the very hearth stone of the inn’s great fireplace had cracked with a bang like a fire work. The plump innkeeper with his shiny forehead – he insisted he was not going bald, was still trying to clear the mess when the commotion started outside. Within moments his common room began to fill with men alternately calling for a meeting and for jugs of his best ale. It seemed to depend on what the individual thought the more important.
The square was in turmoil. Women and children scattering like chickens from under the hooves of plunging horses, men yelling and babies wailing. The village dogs seemed in a frenzy of excitement either barking fit to loosen their heads or sitting on their haunches and howling with a keening note that made the hair on the back of strong men’s arms prickle.
Calm had to be restored in a hurry or serious injury would be done. The innkeeper was also Mayor and duty called. Back in the kitchens there was a huge copper skillet used to prepare quick breads for large gatherings. Master Domain shouted above the noise in the common room, “Cook – bring out the copper skillet. Hurry woman!”
The cook had been looking out of her kitchen door at the goings on in the common room. As fast as her great girth would allow she dragged the huge copper disk on its stand out onto the porch.
“Quickly Cook.” Yelled Dagar Domain above the noise. “Out to the steps with it.” Meanwhile he cleared a path for the cook through the common room. This was no time for being polite and men scattered before his flailing broom like so many boys.
“Take a good hold.” He called to the cook and began striking the huge copper pan with a length of hardwood he kept as a cudgel behind the serving counter.
Slowly the dull booms echoing from the copper pan penetrated the din in the village square and the common room alike.
People stopped milling about and looked to the innkeeper. Even the dogs ceased their howling. Some only after a well aimed farmers boot. The horses settled slowly, some of the more spirited younger horses being manhandled into stamping puffing knots on the edge of the common.
Slowly quiet descende
d on the village. Women stood weeping, clutching their children to their skirts. The men restless, hefting wooden staffs or long unused battle axes from hand to hand as if expecting attack from the Dark Hordes of Mordor at any moment.
With quiet now on the square and behind him in the common room Dagar Domain raised his voice. “What is happening? Is there any one man or woman who knows for sure the meaning of all this commotion?” He paused and a murmur started amongst the people, rising in seconds to gather strength as each person sought to put forward their ideas.
With a mighty blow to the pan that rang a boom out over the crowd, the innkeeper roared "Silence. Will you have your families trampled in front of your very eyes?”
Everyone fell quiet in an instant, terror at the unknown writ large in their eyes. Suddenly a dog at the very foot of the inn steps let out a long howl. The man nearest all but jumped out of his skin and let out a bellow himself. He gave the dog a hefty kick in the ribs – the dog ceased it’s howl in mid voice.
The farmer looked about himself sheepishly muttering about “Fool light blinded animals scaring a man’s wits.”
It was enough to break the mood of simmering fear and panic. Those nearest to the farmer began to laugh at his discomfort, and the laughter caught on as people realized there really didn't seem to be anything threatening them. The fellow who had been so startled by the dog forced his way into the common room red faced, those of his friends nearby slapping their sides with laughter and wiping tears from their cheeks.
Calm and order was restored. Women and children moved off to the Women’s Council. The common room was still no place for them, even in times like these. Horses were hitched to railings and hitching posts, and others turned out onto the common to graze. The gently sloping ground that ran down to the river from the common was well grassed with lush green growth. Trees lined the banks, Weeping Willows for the most and the river at this point was little more than a stream. The flow was not rapid, but steady for all that and kept the water clear and clean.
Only the Trader with his team of six remained unmoving in the centre of the square. He didn't belong to the village or the district, and would not enter the inn if a council meeting was to take place. Besides that he had a cargo in the wagon that he was loath to leave unattended. The only person who seemed to notice his reluctance was Antonin. Catharina had not reappeared. With the square now almost empty, and everyone crowding into the inn or off to the Women’s Council, Antonin sidled his horse over to the Trader who still sat on the wagon seat.
“Will you join me in the inn Trader?” He asked.
“Unhitch your horses. Master Domain the innkeeper will stable them and mount a guard on your wagon if that is what you require.” Antonin glanced over the coverings of the wagon as he spoke. It was only now that he noticed the coverings were tied down over hoops, and not over cargo. This was a wagon that had been made to carry people. The Traders were a close lot, and didn't like people prying into their business, but a covered wagon on top of the day's events needed some explanation.
“I will stay at your village inn farm boy. My wagon needs repairs and the horses need resting. I will need rooms for two beside myself."
The Trader left it at that. His glare enough to forestall questions from Antonin.
“Well, if that was the way he wanted it,” thought Antonin. “Fine by me.” Antonin walked his horse over to the inn and found it a place at the hitch rail. He hadn't noticed Master Domain still standing on the inn porch.
"So the Trader has company has he?” said Daga to Antonin. “I will see this company first before he or they set foot in my inn though, or I'll be a Light Blinded fool.”
“Well man,” called the innkeeper to the Trader. “Will your company be showing their faces or no. If no then neither you nor they will abide in this village this night.”
So saying, he folded his huge arms across his chest. Antonin stood by the stairs, curious now as to the outcome of this exchange. Then he noticed the gather of Maidens strolling in at their ease to the edge of the square. Seemingly taking no notice of the exchange they appeared to be discussing something of interest to do with Antonin. Some pointing his way and conversing with flickering fingers and soft words. Some outright chuckles carried to Antonin. Only a fool would think that they there by accident – and the Trader was no fool.
With a shrug of his shoulders he dropped the reins he still held to the wagon boards and tapped on the wooden front panel of the wagon bed covering.
“It seems we rest here for a while my lady.” He said.
Both Master Domain and Antonin stared. The Trader had addressed his hidden passenger as “My Lady”. Nobility. People of importance never came to Xu Gui. Antonin doubted that anyone over the horizon even knew of the existence of Xu Gui. The back gate of the wagon dropped to the ground with a crash bringing men spilling out of the inn onto the porch. The Maidens were suddenly like coiled serpents ready to strike. There was no sign of the mirth of moments before.
The innkeeper held up his hands for calm. There was an audible intake of breath from all who could see the woman who carefully stepped down the boards to the lower edge of the wagon tailgate.
No one like this had ever appeared in Xu Gui in a thousand years. “No,” thought Antonin. “In ten thousand years!”
“Aye lad,” added Master Domain. “In an age.” Antonin realized he must have breathed the words aloud.
The woman had slippers of soft material on her feet. They showed beneath the hem of a long skirt of plain cut, made of a material so fine it could not have been made by ordinary weaver’s hands. Grey in colour with small white flowers picked out all the way along the sleeve seams up to the shoulders, and in a swooping line down across the bodice and up to the shoulders again. A belt of silver sparkled at her waist. Her hair fell free down her back but was held clear of her face on either side by thin white ribbons pulling it back and tied behind her neck so that her hair fell down over the tie.
Across her forehead sparkled a thin silver chain with a small brilliant cut ruby suspended in its centre. She looked as though she had just stepped from a royal audience rather than from the back of a dusty and hard driven wagon. Calmly she surveyed the scene around her.
"So finally I reach Xu Gui.” She said.
The people waiting on the porch of the inn realized they were still holding their breath and a gasp went up as men and women alike released their breath. There was some choking from those holding a mouth full of the innkeeper’s fine ale.
The Maidens stayed as they were. Ready to strike in an instant.
Antonin goggled. How could she possibly know of Xu Gui? Why was she here?
Even more surprising was the reaction from the Maidens as the beautiful woman on the wagon boards flickered quick hand talk to them. Their eyes went as round as saucers in surprise then as one, they dropped to one knee. Their spears clutched in their left hand, and the right hand clenched into a fist resting knuckles on the ground they looked directly at the woman as though awaiting orders.
Antonin was dumbfounded. Even more so when with a further flicker of finger talk the Maidens rose and trotted back to their own courtyard, completely unconcerned now over the newcomers.
No one else in the village could believe their eyes. The Spear Maidens bowed to no one. No one! This was a strange day indeed.
The Trader looked like he wished he was elsewhere when a man stepped from beneath the wagon covers and walked down the ramp to the ground. He stood in front of his companion. His dark coloured coat swirled around him. The sword at his hip seemed a part of him and his right hand was never far from its hilt. He swept the village in one quick glance, his face expressionless. This man was the tallest Antonin had ever seen – and the hardest. He was broad across the shoulders, and his arms were long and muscular. Brown skin that had a natural colour as well as a deep tan told of many hours in the open. His stance reminded Antonin of a mountain cat waiting motionless for its prey to move. Antonin doubted the m
an had ever smiled in his life. His face held no expression, other than a slight narrowing of the dark deep set eyes. His lips compressed in a thin line beneath a large nose. He could have been Alduran except for his height. Antonin could not place his origins, and felt disinclined to ask him. Apart from his travelling cape his cloths were those of a fighting man. Cut in the lines of a man used to quick action and not wanting to be hindered by billowing sleeves and wide trousers. His boots of black hide were not riding boot Antonin noticed, and they were worked with silver scrolls, as was a wide black belt around his waist.
His sword drew all eyes as he stood expressionless and unmoving before the woman on the wagon boards. It was a single handed sword with a long curving blade and a large worked ball on the hilt for balance. The intricate black steel guard was meant for protection as well as decoration. The eagle worked in gold into its scabbard told that the wearer was a Blade Master. There were very few Blade Masters left in the world and they were all in the service of Wind Readers. Antonin knew this from the tales of travelling minstrels. He found his mouth hanging open and snapped it shut with a loud click. He realized he was looking at a Wind Reader and her Guard Companion.
Without seeming to move visibly the man relaxed slightly. The tension seemed to leave him but Antonin would have been hard pressed to explain how he knew it.
“Luan, please discuss our needs with the good innkeeper Master Domain, who stands there wringing his hands.” Said the woman calmly. “Assure him that we will afford his best rooms.”
“Yes My Lady.” Replied the man. With a last quick glance around the square he strode across to the steps of the inn.
Addressing Daga Domain he said. “Mistress Mei'An requires rooms for herself, and a room for myself,” he paused. “Her companion.”
The innkeeper’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline and that was already far back across his glistening scalp. He heard the emphasis on the word companion. The man was indeed the Guard Companion of a Wind Reader. No one could believe their ears. Men and women alike started to ease back away where they could, trying to distance themselves without making it seem obvious. No one knew quite what to do. Nobility had never come to Xu Gui in anyone’s lifetime, and no one had ever seen a Wind Reader face to face let alone her Guard Companion. To most, such people belonged in the tales of Story Tellers and Traders. Myths and Legends. They belonged in stories told to children at bed time. “Go to sleep before the Wind Reader hears you.” It was believed that a Wind Reader could hear someone’s thoughts across the other side of the world. Perhaps it was true. Had she not just called the innkeeper by his name? Everyone knew that Daga Domain knew a lot about the world outside the village, but it was also known that he had travelled to the city of Nan Hai by the Ocean of Storms only once in all his life. Certainly no Wind Reader had ever visited this remote place before in anyone’s memory. The only known visitors had been the Queens Guards in past years.
The Dragons of Sara Sara Page 3
