“A fanciful hope.” Still, he was intrigued by the thought of obtaining thaladar aid. “I suppose we can try. But where?”
Sranul pointed to the southeast. “A city of theirs, Socalia, lies not far from here. What have we to lose by journeying there and presenting our case? If we explain our intentions, we may come away with advice if not open assistance.”
“We could lose several days’ travel time, that’s what.”
“Wouldn’t it be best to challenge Shadowkeep with as much knowledge as possible? Better to arrive later and better armed than to enter in haste and perish immediately.”
Praetor shrugged. “I’ve already agreed to try it, though I think it’s a fool’s detour. I wouldn’t know what to say to a thaladar.”
“I’ll do the talking if you like. I don’t mind talking, not even to a thaladar.”
“No, that’s all right. I accepted the challenge from the Spinner, and you’re here because of what I had to say. I’ll undertake the conversation somehow, though I don’t look forward to it.”
“You humans. So optimistic.” Sranul bounded on ahead.
Their course paralleled a slowly meandering stream lined with the last flowers of the season. Bright red blooms bent to the wind, unwilling as yet to concede the arrival of winter while there was still another day for pollination to occur. As long as the bees persisted, so would the blossoms.
Gradually the veldt gave way to forest. Along with the first stands of trees they sighted thaladar farms, each neater and better kept than the finest human establishment. Strange stares followed them as they continued on toward Socalia. Trading time was past, and it was unusual to see a human riding along the road, much less in the company of a heavily armed roo.
Praetor ignored the eyes as best he could and tried to tell himself they were the object of attention because of their presence, not because there was anything wrong with the way they looked or the way he rode. He was, nevertheless, more conscious than usual of his posture and held himself straight as a fencepost on Kaltar’s back. The thaladar were perfectionists and as critical of others as they were of themselves. It was a characteristic that did nothing to endear them to their neighbors.
Almond-eyed children watched their passage as quietly as did the adults. Praetor noted the resemblances to human children. Like the grown-ups, they were much like humans, though shorter and slimmer. More obvious differences were the solemn, slanted eyes and the narrow, pointed ears.
Thaladar bore close resemblance to the elves of legend, though they were considerably bigger. Some said they were the offspring of humans and elves. Praetor didn’t know what to think. He was no historian. He saw that only the adults wore the thaladar skullcap over their black hair. Each cap was a different color and bore a different design.
Then there was no more time for observation. They were nearing the city.
Socalia was a handsome community, as large as Sasubree and ringed with a protective wall of pure white limestone. The towers that flanked the main gate were sheathed in black marble. Socalia’s flag, a half-eclipsed moon on a blank field, flew from poles stepped into the walls. The gate itself was open and alive with traffic.
It was the quiet that struck Praetor, so much in contrast to the constant babble of noise that filled the commercial sections of Sasubree. Everything was so organized and carried out with such precision! Evidently there wasn’t any need for casual conversation. There was no cursing or loud hawking of goods. Even the draft animals moved in comparative silence. His impressions were confirmed by Sranul. Socalia might appear silent in contrast to a human town, but compared to a roo encampment it was like a mortuary.
No one tried to stop them as they passed through the gate. Thaladar on foot moved aside to make way for Kaltar.
“Solemn, but polite,” Praetor observed.
“Yeah. Great party folk,” Sranul commented sarcastically. “It’s a good thing they’re so damned smart or no one would pay them any attention at all.”
“I think that would suit them just fine.” Praetor swerved to intercept a group of richly robed citizens, leaned down toward them. “Pardon me. Could you tell me…?”
Without missing a step, the group turned leftward and walked away, murmuring among themselves. It wasn’t as if they’d shunned the visitor. They hadn’t even acknowledged his presence.
Praetor shrugged it off. Maybe the conversation had been important. He looked around until he located a single soldier standing near the wall, sent Kaltar trotting over.
“Hi! Listen, I wonder if you would…?”
The soldier didn’t even look up as he turned his back on Praetor. When he tried again, the soldier simply left his post and walked into a nearby shop.
Praetor persisted, confronting other citizens both mounted and on foot. They ignored him as though he weren’t there. Sranul went so far as to put a hand on one passing elder, grabbing him by the shoulder to keep him from walking past. He was completely bald, Praetor noted. Come to think of it, there didn’t seem to be a beard or mustache in the whole city. It gave the inhabitants an incongruously youthful appearance, which was belied by the contemptuous look in their eyes as they regarded the outsiders.
The elderly thaladar responded silently to Sranul’s overture by disengaging himself from the roo’s grasp and continuing on his way as though his progress had never been interrupted. He neither smiled nor frowned.
“I don’t think we’re going to find much help here,” Praetor told his companion. “It’s pretty hard to get any advice when no one will even let you ask your question.”
“They’ll listen,” said Sranul belligerently. “You get behind one. I’ll jump on his chest and hold him down until he talks. Let’s see them ignore that. I’ve had just about enough of these skinny snobs, my friend. Yeah, I know coming here was my idea, but that doesn’t mean it was a good idea.” He stared at the milling crowd, singled out a likely target for his attentions. “There’s one. Get around behind him.”
“No, Sranul.” There were worse things than being ignored, Praetor knew. If they actually used force on a citizen, he could envision the thaladar soldiers—silently and politely, of course—skewering them on their gleaming pikes.
As it turned out, he didn’t have to worry about restraining his friend. One of the thaladar did it for him, stepping between the roo and his intended target. Sranul reached out as if to push the intruder aside, and hesitated. The reason for his hesitation was clear, for while the thaladar who’d stepped in front of him was no larger or stronger than any other, Praetor had to admit that she was exceedingly beautiful.
Chapter IV
“If you’ll excuse me, ma’am, there’s something I have to do.” Sranul moved as if to step around her. She immediately shifted to block his path again.
“What’s that?” she asked him. “Make a fool of yourself?”
The roo gaped at her, then nodded knowingly. “What about this, friend Praetor? At least one of them can talk. No, ma’am. I’m not going to make a fool of myself. Your friends are doing that already.”
“Don’t do something you will regret.” She indicated those around them. “You may think you are being ignored, but you are not. On the contrary, you are the centers of attention.”
“Sure we are,” said the roo. “I can tell by the way everyone’s come up to give us a friendly hello and a pat on the back.”
“You misinterpret our reactions, but it is true that we thaladar are not back-patters. We are more restrained in our relationships with others.”
“Any more restrained and you’d all be corpses,” Sranul muttered sourly.
She turned to look up at Praetor. “Some of us are more curious about outsiders than others. Tell me, how come a man and a roo to be traveling together in this part of the world?”
“Our coming here was Sranul’s idea.” Praetor smiled down at her. She really was lovely, he thought. “We’re embarked on a difficult journey and he thought we could use some good thaladar advice. I’m
Praetor Fime, by the way, and that’s Sranul.”
“I am called Maryld. So you come to Socalia in search of advice?”
“No,” snapped Sranul, “we like to be ignored.”
Maryld did just that by talking only to Praetor. “What kind of advice do you seek?”
“Any we can get that will help us penetrate and avoid the dangers of Shadowkeep.”
The barest hint of a smile creased perfect lips. “At least you don’t boast of it. I am not one to pass judgment on the intentions of others, but I may be able to help you. Come with me.” She turned and started down a side street without glancing back to see if they were following.
“What do you think?” Sranul watched the woman’s progress suspiciously.
“We’ve nothing to lose by accompanying her and maybe much to gain.”
The roo nodded. “Might as well listen to whatever she has in mind, especially since the rest of the population’s being so cooperative.”
The woman led them down several narrow streets between tall, clean buildings. By now Praetor was almost used to the silent stares their appearance provoked.
The street opened onto a wide avenue paved with triangular stones. Impressive two-story homes on manicured grounds lined both sides of the pathway. Maryld stopped before an iron gate, nudged it open, and beckoned for them to follow.
Beyond the gate lay a lush garden full of plants Praetor didn’t recognize. They passed a noisy fountain and walking under an archway decorated with mosaic inlay, found themselves standing before a reflecting pool in a central courtyard. A housekeeper appeared and took Kaltar’s reins. Praetor dismounted, entranced by the beauty of the structure around him.
“My home,” Maryld said simply. “Your horse will be well cared for.” She moved toward the reflecting pool.
Praetor admired the lacy iron grillwork which framed porches and doorways and was a perfect complement to the black tile roof. “What do you do that you can afford to live in such a palace? Are you of a noble family?”
“There are no noble families among the thaladar, at least not in the sense there are among humans, but as you may know, wisdom and learning are well regarded among my people. My grandmother and mother are both highly respected and well-paid sages.”
She led them across the courtyard, which was paved with black tiles, past a smaller, inner atrium with another fountain, and into a room whose walls were lined with embroidered draperies and damask streamers.
Seated in a lounge chair in one corner was an old woman of indeterminate age, smoking something through a long pipe. Her hair was white as fireplace ash but her face was hardly wrinkled. It might have been the naturally delicate cast of thaladar features that contributed to the feeling of youthfulness that clung to her, or perhaps it was the winsome smile that played across her lips as she caught sight of her granddaughter.
“You’re home early, Maryld.” She looked past her. “And you’ve brought home a couple of strangers, too. What strange strangers they are.”
Sranul muttered something under his breath and Praetor hastily stepped forward, introduced himself and his companion to “relieve the strangeness.” Maryld leaned over her grandmother and whispered in her ear. The old woman listened thoughtfully, making Praetor uncomfortable with her stare. Then Maryld stepped back. She did not take a seat but instead stood respectfully at her grandmother’s side.
“To Shadowkeep you go, eh? To save the world no less. From what?”
“The demon king has imprisoned the wizard Gorwyther and now claims Shadowkeep for his base of operations.”
“Hum. So it is rumored.” She smiled at her visitor and said quite matter-of-factly, “You will never leave that place alive.”
“That kind of advice we can get anywhere,” he shot back. “That’s not why we’ve gone to the trouble of coming here to Socalia.”
“It’s not advice.” She did not react to his anger. “It is a statement of fact. I don’t mean to cast aspersions on your intentions, which are nothing if not good, or to impugn your abilities. I’m sure both of you are brave and courageous and good fighters willing to take chances, but you will need more than that if you are to have any hope of succeeding. You will need more of what is here.” She passed a palm across her forehead.
Praetor tried to control himself. He was beginning to share some of Sranul’s frustration. The thaladar were not easy to deal with. “We’re not stupid, you know.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you were, young man. The kind of knowledge I refer to is not acquired in casual studies of the sort humans favor, or roos either. It is specialized and requires many years of study at the foot of a true master. Only with such knowledge at your disposal can you hope to have a chance of surviving Shadowkeep.”
“How many thaladar have done so?”
“We have no reason to go to Shadowkeep,” she replied evenly. “We have ignored it just as we have the rest of the world. But if these stories are true, if Dal’brad has overcome the good Gorwyther…”
“It happened years ago,” Praetor told her, interrupting without fear of consequences.
She took no offense. “Yes, so it is said. It is time something was done. You must understand, young man, that most of the thaladar feel invulnerable in their cities. It is hard for us to believe that the outside world can endanger us here.”
“You said ‘most’. But not you.”
“No. I am convinced that we are in as much danger as everyone else. I have argued the point repeatedly with the Council of Elders, to no avail. Even the thaladar are not immune to the perils of overconfidence.”
“If you agree that the danger is real, then you’ll help us. Tell us how we can avoid the dangers of Shadowkeep, the traps and deceptions that we’ll encounter there.”
She bestowed on him a copy of that initial winning smile. “Alas, brave human, I cannot.”
“Cannot?” Sranul snorted. “I thought the thaladar knew how to do anything.”
“We cannot see across the leagues nor penetrate solid walls,” she replied calmly. “In order to cope with a danger, one must first be able to study the danger. That must be done in person. A thaladar must accompany you on your journey. Only in that way will you have our learning available to you at all times.”
Praetor was hesitant. “You mean, one of you would actually consent to come with us to Shadowkeep? We came seeking advice. I never thought that…”
“It is the only way,” she told him firmly. But that wasn’t the only surprise the thaladar women had in store for him.
Maryld moved to stand a little closer to her grandmother, put a hand on her shoulder. “I will go with you.”
“Now, hold on,” Praetor said quickly. “When I said ‘one of you’, I thought…”
“A thaladar male?” Maryld was smiling at him. It didn’t help that she looked amused.
“It’s not that we don’t appreciate the offer,” he said quickly. “It’s just that I thought you meant we’d have the company of someone with more experience.”
“You rationalize well, for a man.” She smiled and perfect little teeth gleamed in the diffuse light of the sitting room. “I can fight and take care of myself and will be no burden to you on that score. Besides which, it seems to me that between yourself and long ears over there, your expedition is already blessed with a surfeit of muscle. That is not what you need from the thaladar, remember?” She touched her forehead. “You need what I have up here.
“You might indeed manage to find a thaladar warrior willing to accompany you, but he would not be half so skilled in matters mystical as I.”
“It’s not that,” Praetor said, acutely uncomfortable, “it’s just that I’d worry about you. I won’t have time for that in Shadowkeep.”
“Your chivalrous concern does you credit, but in my case it is misplaced,” she told him. “I am not frail. We thaladar are stronger than we look. If it is my age that concerns you, you should know that we also live longer than human or roo. I am considerably ol
der than a human woman of comparable appearance.” She put a hand over her mouth. To conceal a laugh?
He took a deep breath. He was being foolish and he knew it. They’d come hoping for some advice and would come away with something infinitely more valuable: a thaladar volunteer to accompany and advise them. So what if she happened to be extremely beautiful? He would just have to learn how to cope with that.
Still, he would have refused the offer had Maryld’s personality been typically thaladarian. The fact that she was an open, even warm, individual was important. There was no room on the trail for a trio of conflicting personalities.
Maryld’s mother joined them later that evening, and the generational line was complete. It was a bit eerie to look from daughter to mother to grandmother, for he saw Maryld in each of them, saw her not only as she was now but as she would be.
As he listened to the three of them discuss Maryld’s coming journey, he had an uncomfortable thought. Each of these women was a teacher, Maryld only the latest in the line. Did she look on him as an equal in this venture, or as someone in need of instruction? As a pupil, perhaps? He hoped not, because he’d never be able to think of her as an elder instructor. There was no way of knowing how she felt about him without asking, and he wasn’t about to jeopardize this new alliance by doing so. Thaladar vanity was as famous as thaladar wisdom.
Nevertheless, it was hard not to feel a little intimidated by all that knowledge. He confessed his feelings to Sranul.
“Don’t worry about it so much, friend Praetor. Sure they’re smarter than we are. But there are all kinds of smarts. Why do you think the thaladar keep so close to their cities? It’s because they’re not particularly good in a fight, that’s why. They pose and posture like actors, but when they’re really threatened, they either talk their way out of a battle or pay off whoever’s challenging them. They’re not so tough.”
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