by Jem I Kelley
“We didn’t take anything, we were just exploring. There was nobody around to talk to, we were curious.”
As they relaxed in each other’s presence, the friends told Ab’n Mere about their world and he talked of his. They learned this planet had no night: just very hot day and hot day, depending on the arrangement of the suns.
The inhabitants, who called themselves the Duggiral, worked when the heat was least; this coincided with Haverland’s night. During very hot hours the people slept or rested in abandoned dwarven halls. They would have been so sleeping when Bliss and Aden had explored the greenhouses and found them empty.
Aden and Bliss told Ab’n Mere how strange it seemed, a world without a night. Ab’n Mere replied that his people were used to it, though long ago they had arrived here from another world that’d had night, and found it strange initially too.
He stood and went to a cupboard and withdrew a Disc-Artefact. “Please, I think it would be proper if you talked to the head of our community, do you mind?”
Aden looked at Bliss, who gave a nod.
Ab’n Mere held out the artefact and beckoned the friends. Aden and Bliss both touched the artefact and Ab’n Mere pressed the button on it.
They appeared inside the dome building. Aden felt the vertigo from such a small ‘jump’ to be less than that he experienced when using their own artefact. Ab’n Mere led them outside and down the steps. He nodded past the rows of glasshouses, towards the cliffs of the mountain a little way off. “Over there is the door into the old Dwarven realm.”
Other Duggiral were outside in the light of the reddish sun, engaged in activities. Two Duggiral were lowering metal bars from the hoist on the dome to the ground floor. Several Duggiral came from the dome room that had the magic water horns: they moved casks of water using wheelbarrows.
A group of children playing near the dome stopped and watched the strangers; except, for one, about two years old, who struggled to pick the remaining flesh from a fruit the size of his head; smears over his cheeks and nose indicated he’d enjoyed a good feast.
Ab’n Mere led the friends past glasshouses, inside of which Aden saw men and women working: tilling the soil, picking fruit, pruning branches and sowing seeds. There was an absorbed, content look about these people; they glanced curiously at the strangers before returning to their work.
Shortly, the three arrived at the entrance to the old dwarven halls. Wide wooden doors decorated with leaf shaped carvings sat in a low dip by the cliff edge. Ab’n Mere smiled at the friends: “Come.”
The interior of the mountain was airy and light. Columns of sunbeams cascaded from sky holes carved long ago, and their brilliance diffused into the surrounding hall. Dust motes swirled as cool air drawn in at the door spiralled up through the holes.
Aden judged the hall to be a dizzying five stories high, a vast central arena surrounded by balconies at each level. In the centre a statue of a dwarven warrior dominated, hands resting on the helm of a double-headed axe, grim features above a drooping moustache. Its marble face, level with the hanging plants of the topmost balconies, tilted forward so the warrior eye’s appeared to be watching those who walked through the entrance.
Ab’n Mere led the friends past the statue's feet, up and around sweeping staircases until, at length, they walked along the topmost balcony. A tap on a door, and they were ushered into a spacious room. The far end opened onto the cliff-side; Aden saw the rolling plains of Blissaden and the lower edge of the sky. Curtains gathered at each end of the opening and Aden presumed these would be drawn to ward off the excessive heat of the giant ‘daytime’ sun.
On the edge of the room were racks containing scrolls. In the centre stood a table of an unusual design; like, Aden thought, the one back up on the stone circle. Wood of a different colour was inlaid to provide leaf and tree patterns. Fern-like plants with feathery leaves occupied the far side of the room from the scroll-racks. The floor before the friends lay covered in a tasselled carpet of green and white.
Cool air drafted from vents near the door.
An old Duggiral whose hair was white, sat upright on a wooden chair which had a back-rest that rose almost to the ceiling. On the table, in front of the old man, lay a platter of fruits, a jug of water and cups.
Simple padded stools sat on the other side of the table from the old man; he indicated them, and the friends moved to sit down.
Ab’n Mere approached the old man and whispered at length to him; at times the man’s eyebrows rose and his gaze flicked towards the friends.
Ab’n Mere finished talking to his chief and retired to the back of the room. The old man stared at the friends, giving them a kindly but penetrating look. Then he spoke. “I am Arun Ibid. Welcome to our town. Please quench your thirst, or stave any hunger.”
Aden wasn’t thirsty or hungry.
Bliss leaned forward inspected the fruit and took some.
Arun Ibid cleared his throat and put his hands on the table. “After long years without visit from the Amari, my people and I were excited to learn there had been activity on the stone circle up on the mountainside. We thought the great beings had come to visit. Instead, I see two youths before me. Ab’n Mere has informed me you come from a world where churning rivers fall to endless seas; a world where water drops from the sky and where plants go without need of constant attention: a world teeming with life.
Aden nodded. “That’s true. Our home city is Haverland.”
Arun Ibid’s eyes narrowed in accusation. “You have Amari artefacts.”
Aden explained how the Amari lived in Haverland for hundreds of years, but then left. He told the old man the Amari didn’t take all their artefacts with them; he told him how people tested the artefacts that remained.
“You are explorers then?”
Explaining the history of how they obtained their Disc-Artefact and why they’d kept its ability secret would have been tricky. Aden replied. “Junior explorers.”
The white-brows lifted. “You are very brave. If we had such piles of untested artefacts only adults would risk such a thing. First, the danger posed in the testing; then, the danger in the exploring. Are you sure you’ve not stolen these artefacts from your elders?”
The friends exchanged glances. “Usually people our age don’t use the discs,” admitted Aden. “It’s complicated. But we are the official owners and we are exploring.”
“But we can’t stay more than a few hours because we have to be home by tea-time,” said Bliss, which caused a ripple of humour to pass across the old man’s face. Aden felt his cheeks redden and glared at Bliss, who didn’t seem to appreciate what she’d said.
Arun Ibid said: “Life can be tricky at your age; parents always want to know where you are, don’t they? Well, I won’t keep you long and you can always visit again. My people and I will love to hear all you have to tell of your world.”
“That’s very kind of you,” said Aden, his cheeks still tingling from embarrassment.
The old man dipped his head. “Not at all, you are the first aliens we’ve ever seen.”
Aden was confused. “What about the Amari?”
Arun Ibid looked wistful.“They last visited long before I was born. I would have liked to have met them.”
Bliss polished off a soft fruit she’d been eating and then took a swig of water. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “Ab’n said you had come from another world…”
Arun Ibid took a deep breath and sighed. “Yes. The Amari moved our people here a hundred generations ago.”
Bliss’s jaw dropped. “The Amari moved you here! Why? Was it a punishment?”
Arun Ibid gave Bliss a dry look. “No. Our home sun had been growing in size for centuries and our world grew hotter. The Amari said eventually the ocean would dry and the air would become so hot, life itself would become untenable. For those that were prepared to travel they found a new world - this one. Many thousands were taken and small towns founded.”
Bliss’s face was one of
horror. “This place hardly seems much better than your home world sounds.”
The old man nodded. “That’s what many of those that arrived said. They said they had come to a worse world. The Amari explained to us that unpopulated worlds capable of sustaining life were few; they weren’t prepared to dislodge indigenous peoples from populated worlds. So this was the best they could offer.”
Arun Ibid indicated the platter of food and smiled, “Our ancestors were unhappy, we are not. Our home world expired long ago. If we had stayed we would have died too. The Amari provided us with the magical means to make water and the knowledge to provide for ourselves. Each township specialises in a trade. Our township provides the weaving for this world.
“The artefacts in the dome,” said Aden. “They go to the other towns?”
“Yes… you know of our artefact dome's then? You've explored inside?”
He gave them a stern look when the friends nodded, but continued. “We use the artefacts there to transport to the other townships. Do you not use world-local artefacts for travel in your world?”
“We use foot, horse, carriage or ship,” said Aden.”There is no such thing as ‘world-local’ artefacts on our world
Arun Ibid smiled. “Our towns are a long way apart and ships don’t travel well here.”
Bliss chuckled.
“Are all your towns the same?” said Aden.
“Each town has its own specialised trade. Xzzith town specialises in making glass. Zyythica specialises in wood carving; Wythic Lan specialises in quarrying. Some towns specialise in making fertiliser, some rope. There are plenty of specialisations.”
“How many people live in this town?” asked Bliss.
“A few thousand, how many live in your Haverland?”
“Tens of thousands, I think.”
Aden thought it was about time to come to the crunch of the matter, what it was that had intrigued Bliss and himself most about this place.
“The people in our world can’t make large glass panes like your people can. I think there would be a good demand for your glass panes in Haverland. All the posh people would like them in their windows instead of lots of little panes held together by lead frames, like they have now. If we wanted to trade, what would you want in return?”
The old man frowned. “Why would we want to trade with you?”
Aden felt annoyance at the question, wasn’t it obvious? “You live in a desert world; there must be lots of things we could provide you with.”
Arun Ibid shrugged. “Not necessarily.”
Not necessarily! Aden was stunned. They should have been screaming out for trade. Obviously the opportunities hadn’t sunk in yet, the man was old, so it’d probably take a bit of explaining. It would be up to him to explain to these people.
Bliss beat him to it.“I’m sure you’d like Adventurine tea.”
The man looked puzzled.
“It’s a leaf that when you pour water on it, gives the water a strong flavour,” explained Aden. “Horrible to start with, but you get to love it.”
Arun Ibid wrinkled his nose. “We drink water, or fruit juice for a treat. Both are refreshing even to start with.”
“Tobacco then,” said Bliss. “A leaf you catch on fire and breathe in the fumes of.”
“Why would we want this leaf?”
Bliss laughed. “You cough and splutter to start with but after a while people say it makes you feel real good when you breathe in the smoke.”
“Does it heal disease or feed a person?”
“No.”
Arun Ibid waved his hand. “Bizarre. Why would anyone want something which is just habit forming. No, there were stories of people indulging in such things in the old world. We don’t want them here, we like our simple pleasures.”
Bliss glanced at Aden, “Beer?”
Aden caught Bliss’s gaze and shook his head.
“Sweets?” suggested Bliss.
“Rot your teeth,” said Aden.
Bliss spread her hands.
“What then?”
Aden realised the problem. A lot of luxuries weren’t good for you. Once you’d tried them you could get to like them enough to make the disadvantages seem insignificant; but... If you’d never tried them, you wouldn’t miss them either.
“Spices,” he said, after a moments thought.
“Tell me more,” said Arun Ibid.
“Make all sorts of food taste better, right from the start.”
“Not bad for you or habit forming,” added Bliss.
“Tyyxam town does that sort of thing, amongst others.”
Aden was struggling now. “How about clocks?”
The old man shrugged and Aden explained. “Machines which let you know what time it is.”
“We have sand devices for that.”
“Metals ores?” said Aden desperately.
“Zzithas town.”
Aden and Bliss tried for the next ten minutes to think of something that Haverland could exchange in bulk for the glass panes of the Duggiral. Either the Duggiral already had the product, or the old man didn’t see the need.
“If you tell me the next time you are coming, then I can arrange for you see the council. It consists of the chiefs of all our towns, and we will hold a special meeting for you,” said the old man with a smile. “I expect you will have thought of something we might want from you by then. Also, we would be able to question you about your world, I have learned little so far, but have much interest.”
“Thanks,” said Bliss. Her voice sounded dispirited. Aden felt the same. If the Duggiral didn’t want anything from the friends, they wouldn’t be able to obtain the glass panes in return. Without the glass panes, they wouldn’t have anything decent to sell on a stall in the market. Without any decent goods, they wouldn’t be able to make a living as traders.
Arun Ibid appeared to notice their glum expressions. “The townships of my world co-operate against the harsh terrain or we die; as it is, our population levels remain no more than constant. We have few luxuries and so there is little envy, greed or strife. Our internal trading system is balanced. The towns need each other. None can dominate the whole and none can slacken. If you want to sell something to us it will have to be something all the chiefs of the council will agree on; something which will benefit us all and not corrupt our people or unbalance the internal trading system.”
Chapter 58: The Duggiral Museum
Aden was aware of a hand on his shoulder. “Go away.”
“Aden, wake up, it’s Granddad Todd.”
He’d been dreaming of towers in the desert, glasshouses of strange fruit and dwarven caverns. He’d been with a crowd of happy Duggiral; all of them drinking fruit juice and dancing. Couldn’t he have a few more minutes to dream?
“What time is it?”
“Midday.”
“Go away, I’m sleeping.”
The hand was on his shoulder again.
“Twelve O’ clock was when we agreed you’d both ‘recover from your illnesses’. Anyway, there’s news.”
Aden just wanted to doze and dream. He didn’t want to learn any news. News in Haverland was always bad these days. Someone dying, someone being arrested, plot this, threat that.
“What news?” He mumbled, despite himself.
“Arple’s been murdered. They’re accusing Marti of it - he’s been put in prison.”
Aden was awake; he rolled over and opened his eyes. Blearily, he watched Granddad Todd nudge Bliss in the bed across from him. He re-ran the words the elderly Todd had just spoken, through his mind, once again… Arple dead… Marti arrested.
No, he must have heard it wrong, surely?
“Marti’s a murderer?!”
Granddad Todd looked over his shoulder at Aden and nodded, his eyes serious.
“That’s what they’re saying. They’ve got him in prison; reckon it might be for his own good, like when people thought you’d murdered Munter.”
Aden sat up and yawned. He felt exhau
sted. He and Bliss hadn’t dived into their beds until about 3 ‘O clock this morning.
Marti came back into his thoughts.
“What made the police think Marti killed Arple?”
He wondered if Arple had been found murdered and a troublemaker like Hacknor had unjustly pointed a finger. He said as much to Granddad Todd as Bliss blinked at them both with gummy eyes.
“It weren’t Hacknor. A watchman patrolling last night, walking past Marti’s house, saw a strange bundle o’ rags piled near his door. The body inside was Arples; pale and waxy apparently. The watchman blew his whistle to get help, then knocked on Marti’s door and arrested him.”
Aden panicked at what he heard, then realised such a story was ridiculous: “If Marti had done it, he wouldn’t have left the body outside his own house.” A thought came to him; would Grimus Spalding have arranged this, to frame Marti? No. Grimus had promised to bring Marti to justice if he found him behind the murders, not frame him with another killing. Someone else must have framed Marti; but, who?
Bliss sat up in bed, she’d rubbed her eyes; but, there was still a vacant look about her face.
“Perhaps they thought Marti hadn’t had time to move the body?”
Granddad Todd opened the window shutter and a cool breeze entered the room.
“That’s exactly what they thought. That and Marti’s entire luggage was packed as if he might be leaving any minute. Something about our Northerner friend ain’t quite what it seems, kids.”
Aden was puzzled. “If it happened last night, how do you know about it already?”
“It’s all around the district. I heard it from Fred next-door. He learnt about it when he went to buy some bread. Someone else who went in for bread told Ted the baker and they’d read it on the Wall.
“The Wall!” said Bliss. “How did it get on the Wall so quick?”
Granddad Todd pulled a face.
“Who knows how the Wall works.”
Aden and Bliss told Ganddad Todd they wanted to visit Marti in prison. He told them that before they did, he wanted to learn what’d happened during their expedition to Blissaden. It was agreed that they’d tell him after they’d changed, under the pretext of having their lunch on the roof.
