by Troy Denning
Bharat glanced around at the riders, then sighed and reluctantly reined his strange oxen—the beasts were called “yaks”—to a halt. “I have no devils with me,” he said plainly. “I will show you.”
Bharat wrapped the reins around a seat brace and turned to crawl into the cargo area, but the leader swung his lance down to block the way.
“We will look ourselves. This devil is very clever and dangerous. Perhaps he and his servants slipped into your cart when you were not looking. I would not want you injured.”
Bharat turned his palms to the sky, shrugging, and sat back down. A dozen riders dismounted, passing their lances and reins to their fellows, then stepped to the rear of the wagon. Half of them drew their sabers and stood ready to attack. The others began to drag Bharat’s carpets out of the cargo bed, unrolling each one and tossing it into the middle of the muddy road.
“What are you doing?” Bharat exclaimed. “That is my whole fortune!”
“A little dirt will do no harm to a good carpet,” the leader replied.
“But why is it necessary to unroll them all?” Bharat demanded, growing genuinely angry. “If your devil and his servants had rolled themselves up inside my carpets, surely men as astute as yours would notice the bulges!”
“This is a very clever devil. We do not know what he can do,” the leader said, and gave Bharat a cockeyed sneer, showing a single gold tooth. “Perhaps you are even this devil in disguise.”
The implication was clear enough. Too much protesting could be taken the wrong way. Bharat watched in silence as the searchers spread his carpets across the road, then started on his provisions and personal belongings. They looked inside everything, even waterskins, and felt inside the pockets of his extra clothes. They opened his food bags and ran their filthy hands through his rice and barley, and they drained his oil jar into a cooking pot.
Bharat could only shake his head. “This devil’s magic must be very powerful,” he said, “if you think he can breathe cooking oil.”
“Very powerful indeed,” the leader assured him. “He can fight four men at once and command ogres to do his will, and several Ffolk have seen him walk on air. Queen Rosalind herself told me he knows things no man should know.”
“Truly?” Bharat asked.
The leader nodded, and the corners of his mouth turned down in a self-impressed scowl. “She said we must catch him, or there will be Ysdar to pay.”
When the searchers had finally emptied the wagon, they began to crawl around the cargo bed on their hands and knees, rapping the floor and walls with the hilts of their daggers. Bharat watched nervously.
“Are you not satisfied yet?” he demanded. “You have delayed me too long already, and I am expected in Borobodur.”
The leader only grinned and waited, and it did not take long before one of the searchers located the hollow sound of the wagon’s secret compartment.
The leader grinned. “A smuggler’s hole?”
“A merchant’s friend,” Bharat countered. “Used only to protect honest profits from road thieves and not for any other purpose.”
“Then, as you are only now on your way to market, I expect it would be empty.”
“Not exactly.”
“I see.” The leader looked to the men at the back of the wagon. “Perhaps we should open it.”
Three more guards clambered into the crowded wagon, their swords at the ready. When they could not figure out how to open the compartment, another soldier stepped around to retrieve the axe from under Bharat’s seat.
Bharat placed a restraining hand on the fellow’s arm. “Wait,” he said. “I will open it for you.”
The leader nodded his permission. Bharat slipped a hand behind the seat and tripped a hidden lever, then reached back and motioned the guards to pry up the center of the floor. Underneath lay a foot-deep compartment just large enough to hold a man. At the moment, the space contained nothing but a leather rucksack, so new that its beeswax waterproofing was still shiny and slick. The searchers opened the top and turned it upside down, but nothing fell out.
“That is all?” the leader demanded. “Why would a carpet seller be hiding a new rucksack?”
Bharat shrugged. “It seemed a good place to store it.”
The leader narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then rode around to the back of the wagon and peered inside. When it grew obvious that the cart held no more secrets, he shook his head in puzzlement. He motioned his men to their ponies and looked back to Bharat.
“Apologies for troubling an honest merchant such as yourself,” the leader said, speaking from the back of the wagon. “We have not found this devil yet, but he is here in the mountains. If you happen across him, you must run the other way and report it to the first Queen’s Man you see. He is a very wicked devil who will not hesitate to kill you in a horrible manner and eat your body.”
Bharat’s mouth fell as though frightened. “Truly?”
“Yes.” The leader nodded officiously, then rode to the front of the wagon and spoke in a confidential voice. “I should not tell you this, but we have troubled you greatly, and you will have need of the knowledge.”
“What you tell me, I will never repeat to a living soul.”
“Good. Then I can be terribly candid with you.” The leader leaned in close and said, “This is a very particular devil who delights in stealing the firstborn child. We have only been chasing him for three days, and already we have spoken to nine fathers who have lost their eldest in this manner.”
“Nine?” Bharat gasped. “The gluttonous beast!”
The leader sat up straight in his saddle, then added, “Nine that we know of.”
“Then I will seek out a Queen’s Man the instant I see him,” Bharat replied. “But if this devil can trick even you, how will I recognize him?”
“Oh, you will know him. He is an ugly monster, as terrible to look upon as Ysdar himself. He will be served by a sly bahrana and a western ogre whose skin has turned orange from bathing in blood.” The leader glanced back and, seeing that his men were ready to ride, waved them forward. “Are you able to re-pack your goods without our help? We must be off.”
“Yes, yes, I am grateful for your warning.” Bharat shooed the man up the road. “After the devil!”
His consent was hardly necessary. The leader was already guiding his pony into line with the rest of the company. Bharat wearily climbed down, then selected two large stones from the side of the road and blocked the front wheels so his yaks could rest. He went to the rear of the wagon and carefully poured his cooking oil back into its jar, then wiped the pot clean with the sleeve of his tunic. Finally, when the last of the Queen’s Men had disappeared around the switchback and he was sure they weren’t coming back, Bharat walked a short distance down the road and looked up the steep mountainside. He could see nothing but the massive tree trunks and impenetrable rhododendron undergrowth of a lush fir forest.
“Perhaps my friends would care to come out now?” he asked. “We must hurry and re-pack, if we are to find a safe campsite before the evening rains start.”
Atreus and his two companions sat up, plucking rhododendron branches out of their sleeves, collars, and pant legs.
“There is no need to camp,” said Rishi, casting a sly grin in Atreus’s direction. “We will just ask Ysdar’s devil to shrink us, then we will spend a dry and cozy night in an empty jar … or perhaps in a yak’s ear. I am sure it is warm in there.”
“A most excellent idea,” agreed Bharat, “but I will be too afraid to sleep. Yago has not had his bath today!”
The ogre scowled. “I was born orange,” he said, pulling the treasure basket from its hiding place. “And I don’t take that many baths.”
“Indeed,” commented Bharat. “And yet you smell as sweet as a lily.”
“You Mar,” Atreus snapped, in no mood for joking. “Is there not one of you who isn’t a born liar?”
Rishi and Bharat fell silent and sullen. Atreus did not care. He was accust
omed to being thought slovenly, wicked, and even stupid because of how he looked, but this was the first time anyone had accused him of being a cannibal and a kidnapper. By the time they reached the Sisters of Serenity, that rumormongering patrol leader would have every traveler in the Yehimals ready to behead Atreus in his sleep.
Motioning Yago to follow, Atreus scrambled down to the road and returned to the wagon. When Bharat and Rishi came up behind him conversing softly in Maran, he whirled on them.
“You will do me the kindness of speaking in Realmspeak or not at all. I’ve enough to worry about without wondering what you two are plotting,” Atreus said sternly, then snatched the rucksack off the road and turned to Bharat. “What is this for?”
“You will n-need it,” the Mar explained. “You cannot reach the Sisters of Serenity in a carpet wagon. You will have to walk many days.”
Atreus frowned. “Then why is there only one rucksack?”
Bharat’s face paled from its normal golden bronze to saffron. He looked to Rishi for help.
“Good sir, there is no reason for being angry,” said Rishi. “It is only that there are no rucksacks large enough for Yago, and Bharat did not know how strong you are for one of the Ffolk. He assumed most naturally that I would be carrying your load.”
“Yes, yes—very good! That is just so,” said Bharat. “In the Utter East, wealthy Ffolk hire porters to carry their things.”
He flashed his too-bright smile and waited for his employer to accept the explanation. Atreus simply climbed into the wagon and returned the rucksack to its cubby hole, then pushed the floor back into place. The porter’s explanation made sense as far as it went, but he still did not understand why the carpet seller had hidden the sack in the first place. Certainly, the Queen’s Men had not seemed terribly upset at finding it, and that left only him and Yago that Bharat could have been concealing it from. The two Mar would bear even more watching than he originally thought.
Atreus settled onto his haunches. “Why don’t you pass the baggage in? I’ll pack.” He reached out to accept the first load. “And I’m sorry for that remark about born liars. If anyone should know better than to say such things, it’s me. That patrol leader’s lies made me angry.”
Bharat’s insincere smile remained on his face as he said, “No apology necessary. The captain was indeed a very big liar. He made me angry as well.”
“Ignorant Mar like him are what made Queen Rosalind reluctant to help you,” Rishi added as he hefted a sack of rice into the wagon. “Someday, I will give you his tongue.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
Atreus grimaced, then moved the rice to the front of the cargo bed. They finished re-packing the wagon quickly, leaving a place between the carpets so he and Yago could lie down and hide when they passed someone on the road.
That night, Atreus had Yago stay close to the treasure basket and politely refused to go to his bed inside the wagon until Bharat and Rishi had gone to theirs underneath it. His caution was somewhat unnecessary. Only he could open the coffer inside the treasure basket and it was too heavy for either Mar to carry off, but he wanted them to know he was thinking about the possibility as much as they were.
The next day dawned clear and cold, as did most in the Yehimals. After a breakfast of warm yak milk and cold barley, they traveled a few hours up to the end of the valley. There, much to Atreus’s amazement, the road started up a mountainside longer and steeper than the one they had crested just the night before. As they ascended, the rhododendron undergrowth vanished, giving way to silver-barked bushes Atreus did not recognize. The trees grew smaller and closer together, and the breeze became cool and thin. The valley in which they had camped the night before seemed as distant and low as had the plains of Edenvale, and still they climbed. When the afternoon mists came, their breaths turned into billowing clouds of vapor, and a chill dampness sank into their bones.
They continued to climb for three more days, the forest eventually growing thin and patchy, sometimes vanishing altogether when the slope became too steep or rocky. The wind nipped at their ears, and their own breaths kept them swaddled in perpetual clouds of white steam. Gradually, Atreus pretended to let his guard down. He neglected to remind Yago to keep a close watch on the basket, then started to go to bed first. He paid less attention to his treasure and complained more often about fatigue and cold. He even had Yago forget to take the basket with him when he went to sleep at night, and still the Mar made no attempt to steal his gold.
Eventually, they crested this mountainside too, and began to cross an endless succession of ridges and valleys. Often, they traveled miles through alpine meadows far above the timberline, then descended into deep valleys full of mist and mountain bamboo. Several times a day, they met yak caravans coming in the opposite direction. Atreus and Yago would hide beneath the carpets while Rishi and Bharat stopped to gossip, for travelers in the Yehimals had long ago learned the wisdom of pausing to hear what lay ahead.
The news was always of Ysdar’s ugly devil, and the accounts grew increasingly exaggerated. Tales such as his ogre having slaughtered a herd of yaks, his Mar servant maiming all the children in a village, and the devil himself murdering an entire company of the Queen’s Men were common. Of course, no one could name the places where any of this had occurred. Rishi and Bharat seemed to find these stories a great amusement. After hearing one, their moods grew as jocular as Atreus’s did foul. Eventually, the two Mar stopped translating the reports for their master, knowing that the latest accounts of his outrages would make their “good sir” even angrier than their refusal to repeat what was being said about him.
Twice after hearing that the Queen’s Men were approaching, Atreus, Rishi, and Yago had to hide in the rocks while a patrol searched the wagon. The inspections went much the same as before, save that Bharat now accepted them as a matter of course and insisted on having his rugs neatly stacked instead of strewn all over the road. The rucksack continued to draw comment, as the soldiers could not imagine a merchant abandoning his goods to go trekking through the mountains.
Finally, the morning came when Atreus opened his treasure basket to check the coffer inside and saw scratch marks on the brass latch. He was less surprised to discover his companions had tried to break into the chest than that Yago had not heard the attempt. The ogre had slept beside the basket all night without noticing a thing.
Atreus closed the lid and said nothing, though now he began to worry. So far, they had not reached any of the valleys or mountains named on Sune’s map, and the thought occurred to him that Rishi might not know how to find the Sisters of Serenity after all. Perhaps the two Mar were simply leading him about blindly, waiting for their chance to rob and abandon him—or worse. Given the hideous rumors coursing through the mountains, they could murder him and be hailed as heroes. Atreus and Yago began to sleep in shifts, napping in the wagon and closing their eyes at night only after they were certain the two Mar had slumbered off.
They had been traveling little more than a tenday when Bharat, preparing their usual supper of fried vegetables over rice, turned the oil jar over and nothing came out. He cursed and hurled the vessel against a rock. As it shattered, he turned to Rishi and spoke in rapid Maran. Rishi shook his head and made an angry reply, then glanced across the fire to where Atreus was sitting.
Atreus signaled Yago with a glance, then gathered his legs beneath himself and reluctantly shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. They were camped well above the timberline, huddled on the lee side of a boulder with a snowstorm blowing in, wrapped tight in their cloaks and burning dried yak dung they had gathered along the road. At the moment, the last thing Atreus felt like doing was fighting off a robbery attempt.
The two Mar continued to argue in their strange tongue of melodic syllables and guttural clicks, now entirely oblivious to their companion.
“Use Realmspeak,” Atreus said. “I don’t like being left out of arguments … particularly when they’re about me.”
Bharat turned at once, his ever-ready smile plastered across his face, and said, “Oh no, the good sir is not to be deceived. We are not arguing about you … we are not arguing at all.”
“We were only discussing a small matter, which is of no importance to you,” added Rishi.
Atreus scowled at the shards of the broken oil jar and said, “We are four companions traveling together. What is important to one is important to all.”
Rishi shrugged, then glanced at Bharat and said, “Very well. I suppose it must be said. We are running out of food. This is why Bharat is upset.”
Atreus studied Bharat until the Mar’s counterfeit grin began to twitch, then asked, “Why should we be running out of food? You knew we would be going to the Sisters of Serenity.”
“Just so, but I knew also that the Queen’s Men would be searching for you,” Bharat replied. “What would they think if they found food for three men and an ogre in a wagon with only one driver? I did the best I could.”
“And you made no plans to replenish our supplies?”
Bharat fell silent and glanced away, flustered.
“It is the soldiers,” said Rishi, coming to his rescue. “They are making things difficult.”
“Ah yes, the soldiers,” Bharat said, his gaze swinging back to Atreus. “With all the rumors they are spreading, it is too dangerous to buy anything from the villages. These mountain Mar are terrible gossips, always asking questions and looking under other people’s carpets.”
“Bharat is very discouraged by this,” Rishi said. He gestured at his companion’s ample stomach. “He is not accustomed to missing meals. No doubt, it would help if he had something else to think about. Perhaps you could pay him what he has earned so far through his loyal services?”
Thinking the request a reasonable one, Atreus reached for his belt purse—then remembered where he had left it and pulled his hand away.
