by Bob Kite
Scout's guise as a Human daemon served him well, even in the trade-city of several thousand Sephians. Most residents considered themselves urbanely wise compared to the desert bedouin, and would never admit they actually believed in humans. Seeing one that walked among the streets and shop stalls, however, reignited youthful religious catechisms in even the most agnostic Sephian.
Scout spent several weeks wandering the city and compared the surprising divergences between current technology and lifestyle and those in his heliobee memories. In the early evenings, especially among those that camped on the open sand rather than under canopied stalls within the city walls, Sephians in singles and small groups engaged in a type of singing poetry. They created whistling harmonics with nonsense sentences composed of words chosen more for their musicality than their meanings. Surprisingly, throughout the entire populace Scout found no hint of any musical instruments.
Heliobee memory offered Scout a variety from which to choose. As he took over a workbench in a random craftsman’s stall, the proprietor stood at a respectful distance, uncomplaining but also watching every detail of his work.
When finished, Scout placed the instrument's top loop over his head so that it rested on his chest and tied a strap around his back to secure it. It was a variety of harp, with two sets of four gut strings tuned to a full octave and laid over a sand-flamed green crystal bridge. A Sephian would use all four maniples to pluck simple chords, and although Scout had more fingers, he did not have the same spread so needed to adjust some of the tunes from those he recalled.
He decided to debut the harp at a large communal breeder transformation ceremony. Because of the size of the event, an impromptu carnival broke out and a singing contest soon organized. The competition started with six groups in a double elimination. Each pair sang the same song alongside each other, and two losses meant the end of the competition for that group. Scout quickly picked up the tune, and when the final two took their places, he stood between them.
For a few moments, no one could decide what to do. Everyone was aware he was in the city, and most everyone had seen him for herself at least once, but confronting him in person was another thing altogether. He just stood silently and waited. Scout finally understood their dilemma as the pause could be interpreted as confrontational as direct intervention, which made them apprehensive. He did not want to destroy the festive mood, so decided to start playing the competition’s song.
The audience had no context in which to place the sounds they heard. It certainly was not speech because, in their minds, vibrating strings were simply not whistles, and for them, symbolism was never an evolutionary achievement. It was moving and pleasing to the ear and strangely evoke their emotions. He finished the last bar of the ten-minute ballad and played it all again to give them a chance to process the new experience.
The two groups he interrupted consisted of the finest singers in the region. Halfway through the second rendition, two from one group and one from the other group finally understood. At the beginning of the chorus, the three took up the tune and whistled sharply and cleanly along with his harp.
Soon, both groups joined in, and the spellbound audience suddenly caught up and exuberantly swayed and danced. At the end of the song, the crowd whistled demands for another round. Scout and the singers were happy to oblige. After the end of his third time through, Scout decided to try one of the most popular ancient tunes. He played it through twice, and again on the third the competing singers joined in. On the fourth so did most of the audience.
Scout had felt depressed, beginning when he walked away from everything and everyone he grew up with in Imuq and culminating with his musing about life, death, and continuity in the funeral caves. His depression lifted and floated up on the notes of the evening’s music. He realized he was still lonely, but in a way that gave him renewed purpose in the pursuit of his human origins.
Before the music ended, late into the night, the shopkeeper who had hosted Scout's harp manufacturing returned from the concert and gathered her apprentices. As the sun lightened into full daylight, a dozen new harps hung on display. The shopkeeper was thankful that her encounter with the human had resulted in an ensured fortune rather than him eating her, or worse.
~o0o~
Scout saw an increase in both activity and excitement over the next several days. He overheard mention of a Sidmopisian Ambassador, but the title meant nothing to him. Most of the activity concerned cleaning and repairing, gathering of trade goods, and hiding or camouflage of personal luxury goods.
There was also a great deal of activity in and around the only multi-story building within the city. The three-story green crystal ziggurat appeared completely deserted during Scout’s previous explorations of the city, with sand and dust throughout. Now polished to a brilliant sheen, it remained cleared of every grain of pink sand.
Tension on the morning of arrival reached a peak as whistled rumors of “Sidmopisians are come!" and "Ambassador ABdim/F!" filled the air. The latter was only heard from mature females as the name required a full set of breeder teeth to pronounce. A wave of silence followed the calls as talking and activity ceased. All attention focused towards the wide main city gates, and the crowds that lined both sides of the main Boulevard were thick. Scout jogged to a small side gate and ran outside the fence and towards the front, stopping at the corner to look around but remain hidden.
A mile-wide dust cloud surrounded a thousand mopis and their Sidmopisian riders as they approached from the open desert. Most were pairs, harnessed side by side with a ten-foot leather slings suspended between the beasts, heaped with sacks, cages, and miscellaneous supplies. Around the front and sides of the phalanxes rode a hundred individual Sidmopisians in full leather and crystal battle armor, who interwove in patrol even though no threat seemed to exist. An equal number of neuters armed with small spears leap-frogged the riders, jumping and gliding to get a better view and act as forward shock troops if necessary.
It took another two hours for the front of the line to come within shouting distance. Half the armed troops formed up around a central figure who reclined on a sling hung between two albino mopises. The white reptiles were outfitted in full regalia that consisted of colorful strips of hides and draped in various medallions.
A dazzling butterfly-like pet with one-foot wings perched on the central females left lower maniple sparkled with color as it slowly opened and closed its wings to cool off in the heat. Scout lay against the sand to blend in, but as the horde approached the gate even though all attention was focused on the populace within the gate. The outriders of the throng spread out on the dunes and gave each other space as they established camp and began unloading their wares.
Scout hurried back through the side gate in time to watch the procession make its way to the ziggurat. As the lead palanquin came to a stop at its base, a gaudily adorned Sidmopisian functionary that wore only half the finery of the principle guest bowed low and helped her superior to the ground. On closer inspection, the assistant appeared to be a half-size, but otherwise exact duplicate of the larger. Scout's memories did not include the concept of blood clones, and the mirror-imaged duo intrigued him.
The two made their way up the spiraling ramp together and presented themselves to the crowd from the summit. The Ambassador stood to full height and made a lazy sweep with a free maniple while her daughter/clone/apprentice again bowed low and addressed the city.
"Her Excellent Mother, cousin to the Supreme Monarch, and Ambassadorial Chieftain of the Desert Lands, the Puissant ABdim/F greets her subjects!"
She paused a second as if waiting for an enthusiastic response, but only silence forthcoming, she continued.
"First, it is with supreme confidence that we shall count this season’s tribute, knowing the full value of one-and-a-half million breeder teeth lay within the storehouse. As it is not short, the amount shall remain the same for next season."
They met this declaration with some whistling of r
elief since tribute had previously increased three seasons straight.
"All subjects are enjoined to remain quiet and solitary as the Monarch's soldiers sieve the city grounds to collect their taxes to the amount of 1 part in eight. Any attempts at deceit shall earn a fine of one part in two."
This edict elicited some grumbling and a few low whistles of despair. The grumbling was due to the increase from one part in ten at last season, and the despair from those foolish enough to think they could cheat their sovereign. The soldiers were extremely fair in their evaluations, but also quite thorough.
"As soon as night is descended, this season's trade fair is declared open. As decorum is followed, so too shall we hope for profit to follow. Over the next week, Ambassador ABdim/F shall be approachable for those who seek Her wisdom and justice."
The proclamations finished, the Ambassador disappeared with her clone into the top suite of the ziggurat. The fair was a moderate success, breaking records for volume if not excess profit, but few petitioners sought an audience even as a last resort. Should the ambassador deny a petition, a swift and painful death resulted in exchange for wasting Her Puissance’s valuable time.
~o0o~
ABdim/F sighed as she settled into a pile of thick skins that covered a bed of warming rocks. She was exhausted and inconvenienced to be away from her own castle, as well as bored beyond measure. Her political maneuverings to achieve this post had been well worth the effort as she became the second most powerful Sidmopisian in the monarchy.
Officially, one percent of the tribute belonged to her but unofficially she had dozens of agents that manipulated major trade item values that could garner at least that much again. The thought lightened her mood, so she ordered a young female brought up, one only a few days into breederhood.
The awestruck young Sephian stood compliantly still as ABdim/F tilted the pretty head and sank her breeding teeth deep into her victim and drained her dry. She wiped her mouth appreciatively with an upper maniple, glad tonight that this one had not fought.
ABdim/F was slightly weary but noted to herself again how refreshing virgin egg layers always tasted. Her clone daughter brought a bota bag of silver juice as a palate cleanser. ABdim/F always preferred the flavor of silver after a satisfying meal.
As evening darkened, a mad rush emptied through all gates. Sleds modified from ancient casket designs piled and high with trade goods strained against harnessed Sephians. An equal number of Sidmopisian neuters carried much lighter burdens of samples or unique items, desert pets, and hand-wrought goods while they pushed against the outgoing flow to vend for the Sidmopisian luxury market.
The majority of mountain trade was animal based; skins, bones, and live colorful pets, along with solid rock carved into tools or art. The true desert dwellers eschewed such foofaraw, but a fairly new class of city dwelling Sephians sought to self-aggrandize by imitating the lofty Sidmopisians. The nobility was unaware of the trend, but even the lowliest Sidmopisian found it disdainfully amusing.
Scout started to make his way to the open market outside the city, but whenever he caught sight of a mopis, he felt a terrible gap in his memory. It was as if he knew he should know about them, but since they did not exist within this barrier region before the Catastrophe, his current personae rejected them as wrong. The more he probed the gap, the worse his head felt, almost as if his brain squeezed in warning. He finally gave up and decided to explore the ziggurat.
Serious looking four-foot long neuters armed with wickedly-sharp crystal spears guarded the only opening at the entrance to the ramp. Scout casually tried to stroll past them in the hope they would react the same as did the Sephians.
Although they avoided direct eye contact or even acknowledged his presence, there always seemed to be a couple of spears that blocked his intended path. After the fourth try, he backed off and was thereafter ignored. Scout looked up at the penthouse level and saw shadowy figures that stood on the near side of the translucent green crystal and looked down at him.
ABdim/F frowned at the frustrated human, still undecided on his fate. She knew about him as she knew about all things in her domain, through her vast network of neuter spies and agents. She had ordered a watch to tail him since before she entered the city, but he was just one of hundreds of concerns she preferred to micro-manage. Sidmopisians were not ignorant, superstitious Sephians, and ABdim/F felt not even a tinge of belief that Scout might be of supernatural origin. He was a mystery, and in her world, mystery meant out of her control. That meant lack of potential profit, and that was not tolerable.
The optimum plan would bring him to her castle somehow, but in a circumspect manner that would not cause a fuss with the desert folk. They certainly proffered no danger to her position or desires, but expediency dictated a careful handling of such basic social aspects as religion. Her compliance to doctrine, at least in public, created the easiest tool for managing Sephians in numbers. If nothing else came to mind by the end of the week, she would simply capture and cage him for the trip home.
~o0o~
On the last day of the trade fair, most of the cargo drivers had already returned to the mountains, urging their sling-laden mopises to top speed in hopes of beating their rivals to the markets. The soldiers formed up in polished review, flanking the main gate and awaiting the Ambassador's pleasure. Scout resumed his lackadaisical meanderings throughout the city and outer camps. The Sidmopisians, as he learned the mountain inhabitants were called, somehow were not as casual in their indifference towards him. No one actually accosted him, but only those nearest pretended not to watch him intently.
Scout sat on a slight rise, far enough away from the gate to be inconspicuous, but close enough to watch the spectacle. He expected the city Sephians to send the Ambassador off with a ceremony, but everyone remained busy accounting their business transactions and planning for next season. It was quiet, and the soldiers remained motionless, so he began to doze off in the hot sun.
A warm snuffling blast of air on his face woke Scout with a start as a massive crocodilian head appeared less than an inch from his nose. With a second sniff, the mopis lost interest and disdainfully backed away a couple of feet. It took a moment of willpower for Scout to slide his focus off the tooth-filled monster and examine the rider. It was the Ambassador's clone, staring directly at him. Widening his perception a small amount, but still keeping the mopis squarely in his field of vision, Scout saw three more mopises encircle him, ridden by warriors with their spears angled threateningly towards him.
"I am ABdim7. My mother, ABdim/F, is a renowned collector of creatures both beautiful and fearsome. She is undecided as to whether you shall be added as a unique pet, or as a sentient being which might be worthy of study. Either way, we nobles are not as the superstitious desert rabble. We do not believe in your quasi-divinity, despite your superfluous appearance to the contrary. Whether you remain mute from lack of ability or nefarious reasons of your own, my mother invites you to her home. You may ride on my mount.”
Scout had a little trouble keeping up with ABdim7's accent, which unnaturally utilized only her breeder teeth for speech. When he did finally comprehend, Scout assumed the invitation was not a request. He slowly stood up, brushed the sand off his skin, and carefully avoided the business end of the mopis while he made his way to the rear of the twenty-two-foot creature. Up close, the rear pincers seemed no less dangerous than the front teeth. He hesitated, uncertain whether climbing too near to the mopis' rider would elicit a deadly response from either the rider or the beast.
"I would recommend sitting forward of the middle as the rear tends to sway, especially at speed."
Scout picked a spot two segments behind ABdim7 and swung his leg over the top to sit between a pair of the one-foot diameter segments. The chitin was much more pliable than he had imagined, and the limbs dog-legged at right angles down and out from beneath so that his feet remained clear no matter the gait.
The first two days were incredibly dusty and
uncomfortable as his muscles adjusted to the width and rhythm of the mopis. By the third day, they had reached the foothills and only on occasion stretched and adjusted his thighs and back to keep from becoming crippled.
The next morning after breaking camp, milk-neuters passed around lengths of leather straps to all the mopis riders. Scout saw ABdim7 fling one of the straps beneath the mopis halfway down her snaking body and cinch tight against her mount. She did the same with a second slightly further from her head and left only a small amount of room between herself and the strap.
"When we start up the mountain proper, the mopis is unexcelled at finding a safe path, but a safe path to a mopis can mean impossible slopes and angles to any other creature. Secure yourself tightly if you wish to remain mounted rather than slip and fall several thousand feet. If you wish, we can attach you to a cargo sling rather than ride like a civilized person."
The last, said with a certain disdain, made Scout loop the strap twice around his legs and the mopis, then tie a double loop for a handhold. The mountain path was relatively wide and well established from the generations of use and allowed three or four adjacent mounts to travel together. Ambassador ABdim/F stayed surrounded at all times by mounted warriors, but a bit more leeway was given to ABdim7 and Scout, especially after they had passed a picket line of border guards that maintained the approach against unauthorized travelers.
Two days into the mountains the ambassador and a small contingent of twenty warriors turned onto a side trail and left the main host of cargo to continue without them. ABdim7 followed her clone mother at a respectful distance and dismounted short distance later at the mouth of Scout's first encounter with a Sidmopisian rock carving from the Magnificent Age.
"You may dismount, but stay with the mopis, on pain of death. Only nobles are permitted within the Shrine of Gace."
