Chapter 12. The Stone City
The dwelling of the Talsonar is tremendous, in sheer size it must outrank even the structures of the Youngonrie and it is certainly far older. Its pyramid shape appears to be constructed from a combination of Itarian steel and indigenous stone, there is a beacon affixed to its highest point and the light shines both day and night. The people who built it, are unknown but they must have had an intelligence, to rival that of any known civilization in the Outer Rim.
From the Mindlock of Oshismarie Inastro Sistashion.
Many days and nights had past, since they had left the oasis, for the most part, their travels had been uneventful. They did come across a few lone Nomads, Waste-wanders as they were known, they were the Outcasts of their tribe. They had broken some law, or left on their own accord but whatever the reason, they were now alone. They had no home and no family, they could be dangerous but they would hardly attack a full column of the Almadra. The Nomads did not speak of them and when Osh asked for more information, he was told to mind to his own affairs. They passed them by and continued the quest, they were now leaving the sands of the desert and heading into the greener flat plains of the pyramid cities.
Andra was now fully recovered and learning the ways of the Nomads. She had made several friends in the tribe but most of the Elders did not trust her, even though the King had made her a warrior and given her a name in the tribe. They still looked upon her, as just another Off-World intruder, who had come to take more of their land and spoil what was left. The younger men and women, were a bit kinder and she felt she was making headway with them. They seemed to look at her, with a more open mind and liked seeing her, trying to learn their traditions and laws. Many times, she would become an object of ridicule and laughter, for failing to light the Washa fires properly, or getting too close to an angry Whiptail.
She was also a disaster at cooking, even the simple task of baking Kasha bread, ended in a black, foul smelling lump. She decided to give up baking and concentrate on becoming a warrior. She had still not made up her mind, about leaving the tribe and returning to some kind of civilization but for now, she decided to make the best of things.
Seeda was her mentor, she had learned a lot over the past days and was now able to ride a Whiptail, as well as most of the warriors. She even tried the heavy war-ax, the weapon of the Almadra. Try as she may, she was never a match for any of the tribe. On the other hand, she was their superior, when it came to using the Dragons-teeth. Hand to hand combat, was her specialty when she was a soldier and during the war, she had killed many enemies, even though, they were twice her size. She was fast and cunning, soon she was being called warrior and that made her feel very happy.
Osh had been caring for the infant Sandjar, as best he could, when Andra first saw Endo again, she wanted to smash in his skull. The old man stopped her and it caused a rift between them. They had spoken very little since then and Osh rode in a separate wagon, he had been given. As for the young Sandjar, it had grown rapidly in size and intelligence, it was now equal, to any of the young boys in the tribe and could communicate fairly well.
The old man, had tried to teach the creature his language with some success but it was mostly by body gestures and expressions, that he understood the Sandjar. He also noticed, he looked somewhat different to the scavengers he remembered, his skin was rather pale, instead of the dark green color of his species and his temperament was gentler. Perhaps it was his upbringing and the kindness shown to him, by Osh, or maybe it was the human blood, he had consumed as a baby. Either way, the old Callaxion studied him closely.
As the days passed, he looked upon the strange child, more like a son than a scientific experiment. He was sure he did not love the creature but then, what were the feelings he had in his heart?
As for Anais, he was spending his evenings in the High Priestess' tent. Arn and the Elders of the Tribe, thought this was a good thing. Perhaps he was studying the Holy writings and praying to the Gods? They hoped his new found spiritualism, would soften his demeanor and make him more satisfied with his life.
What they did not know, was that he was spending his nights, in the arms of one of the Handmaidens of the Gods. Soffca had proven herself a wonderful lover, her gentle touch and quiet ways, were like a drug to the young Prince. She would dance for him and prepare his food, listen intently to his dark dreams and plans for the future. She would not speak as they lay together and Anais, would pour out his wounded heart to her. He would tell her things, he had told no other, how he hated his brothers and how he longed for power and revenge. Through the dark hours of the night, he would whisper to her of his longings and she would look at him and smile contently. She would touch his face and look at him with soft caring eyes, to him, she was the perfect companion. He knew that violating a Handmaiden of the Gods, was a mortal sin but he did not care.
Isarie would punish him for his transgressions but it did not matter. He did not believe in the Gods and even if they did exist, cared not. Let the Gods do what they may, he would do as he wanted. The Afterlife was a long way off, for now, his nights were warm and peaceful, feeling the arms of his lover gratified him.
Obec spent her days and nights in prayer. The always watchful Thungodra, could hear her chanting, they noticed that many small Outland creatures were taken for sacrifice. Once or twice, screams were heard from the Holy Wagon but no one dared to ask, what was happening or why. The ways of the Gods, were not for mere mortals to understand, so the Nomads let it pass.
When not teaching Andra, Seeda had been spending time with her mother, Egmar was slowly coming out of her sadness. Little by little, she had been talking and doing more of the things, she did before the loss of her King and husband. In the last few days, she had even been heard singing, the ancient songs of the tribe. Sometimes, she would suddenly cry, or look off into space, as if waiting for somebody but those times were few. Seeda knew, she had not lost her mother, there would be more warm days ahead.
The Almadra passed through the Lowlander's country, they were people, who did not live in the pyramid cities, they made their homes in the flat lands. They were a mixed breed, known mostly for their very unattractive women. They lived by the rivers, in mud huts, eking out a living as farmers and fishermen. They built rather crude fortifications, against the dangers of Gorn and were mostly left alone, by the Talsonar. They had little to offer, they made very bad slaves and were difficult to control. They lived quietly and when the Burning Time came, they retreated into their underground tunnels, to hide and wait, until they could emerge once again, to continue their mundane lives.
The Nomads, were heading for the home of the city dwellers, it was not far away now. There they could trade the wagon loads of precious Grana Salt, for supplies and other goods they needed. It had to be done, the weapons they needed could only be obtained from the Talsonar. Trading for goods, had now become a large part of their lives.
Before the coming of the Off-World people, they had lived a much different existence but that was long ago, none of the Elders had lived in those times, now it was only legend. They had heard their parent's stories and read the Holy Scriptures.
Once, they had been the sole inhabitants of Gorn, they hunted and lived peaceful lives. Then the Off-Worlders came and with them, came many strange new things and different traditions. They worshiped bizarre Gods and fought wars in the stars, they made slaves of other creatures and played in sinful ways. If it had been up to the Elders, they would never come near a pyramid city again. There was nothing that could be done, they needed them, without the heavy guns and Disruptors, they would become weak and be destroyed by their enemies. So the Elders prayed to all-powerful Isarie for guidance, while the young grew excited, at the thought of seeing the Forbidden City. Like all young people, they were intrigued by the mysterious tales, they had heard about the mystical stone city. Their strange ways and rituals and like all forbidden things, it only made their interest greater.
As the Almadra moved thro
ugh the Flatland’s, they saw the many crashed Drop-ships and other derelict spacecraft that littered the rolling landscape.
What was once a lush and beautiful place, was now little more than a junkyard, the twisted hulks of abandoned Lightships, lay everywhere. Some of them were deliberately crashed, others were caught in the Electro Magnetic pulses and were unable to take off again. It was lucky, that the star drives had been shut down before they crashed, or shortly thereafter. There were interplanetary ships on Gorn, with their powerful engines still giving off radiation, those places were the poison zones and nothing lived there, for long! They were given a wide berth by the Nomads and were now, lands for the dammed or forgotten.
The Nomad's wagons, rolled easily on the hard ground of the Flatland's, there were green plants here, they also passed vile swamp lands. These areas gave off a very unpleasant smell but were useful to the Talsonar, because a brown moss grew here and they used it to make Marsh-beer.
Some old Lightships, had been overgrown by vegetation, now homes to many of Gorn's strange creatures, they were also the homes of the cities outcasts. People who were thrown out of the city, for breaking some law or another, or for displeasing the Governor. They hid in the broken remains, trying to survive as best they could, hunting and killing any animals that were about. They were not the large Outland monsters that the Nomads feared but rather domestic animals that had escaped, or were let free by the Talsonar. The outcasts, would kill any lone traveler, who ventured too close to their homes but they never attacked a column of Outlanders and were harmless to the Nomads. The warriors still kept a keen eye out for trouble and held their axes tightly.
As usual, Arn rode at the head of his people, he could see the flashing beacon of the Talsonar City. The tremendous height of the structure, sent the light out for many miles and even for anyone without the Sixth Sense of Direction, it was impossible to miss the beacon.
Arn was pleased, he had brought his people safely to their goal, he looked at Agart riding beside him, “We will make camp on the outskirts of the city tonight, make sure the Grana wagons are well protected. If anyone falls asleep on duty, tell them the King will have their heads.” At that moment, he sounded just like his father.
Agart nodded his head in approval, “I will see to it myself, your highness,” he smiled at his older brother, “It looks like, you did not get us lost, after all.” The Gods smile on my brother, he is a good King.
Arn had to laugh a little, maybe he was acting a bit too high and mighty but seeing his brother smile at him, brought him down to earth again. “If I did, I am sure you would have set me on the right path.” Agart is my right hand, without him I would be a weak King.
Not far behind them, rode Seeda and Almec, now that her mother was better and Andra no longer needed care, she was free to resume her old life. The feel of the Whiptail under her and the soft warm air on her face, made her feel alive once more.
She had everything she ever wanted now, she was a strong warrior, respected by the tribe. The Mating Time would soon come and she would choose of the best warriors, to be her life companion, everyone knew it would be Almec. He was strong and brave and would make a good husband, the young Princess, was not sure but as far as her people were concerned, her life was set before her.
I will bear strong children and fight for the tribe if needed; she thought. I will grow old and become a respected Elder of the tribe. Then I will become a Frail-leg and spend my last days as an uncaring Star-singer. Her Whiptail made a loud grunt; is there nothing more? No other life than the life of a Nomad? Are there no worlds beyond ours? Another grunt, Seeda looked out over the landscape; is there nothing more?
Almec gazed at his future mate, he dreamed of their lives ahead, to him, it would be the best life, there could, possibly be. He had loved her, since they were children and often dreamed of the day, when he would take her as his wife. They would mate and their children, would someday become great leaders in the tribe, maybe even Kings. He looked up at the twin suns above and felt their warm rays on his body, Isarie must be pleased with him and he was pleased with himself.
He turned to look back at Seeda, “I think, I will trade for a new robe, for you, one with bright colors and gold trim.” Seeda was not listening, she was too busy thinking of other things, Almec spoke louder, “Do you like the color red?” he asked; red would look good on her and maybe a pair of mated rings for her ears?
His future mate, suddenly stopped daydreaming and looked over at him, “What? No, I am not hungry.” She returned to her contemplation; no other worlds?
Almec could hear her muttering, he decided that the choice of robe color, would have to wait.
The Talsonar knew that the Nomads were coming, the scouts had reported their intrusion into the Lowlands, some time ago. It always meant a flurry of activity around the city, as they made ready for trading and the arrival of the Grana. The supply of the precious salt, was running low and there had even been reports of sickness breaking out. Of course the slaves and the underground dwellers, were the first to suffer but they were not that important. If the High-breeders were affected, then no effort was too small, to assure their safety.
Tamar-Ran and his men, sat waiting in one of the city's many exit tunnels, it was dim and smelled of sand, sweat, and mildew. There were about two hundred of his best soldiers, he was certain they could keep order, in case the Nomads wanted a fight. He knew they could not defeat them but they could keep them busy, long enough for the army to assemble and the city's weapons activated. As the Lion-man sat, he drank deeply of Marsh-beer, it was going to be a long day and he wanted to make certain that his thirst was quenched, before it started.
Darken had already spoken to Tamar-Ran and his orders were clear, give the Nomads what they want but make sure to we get the wagons of Grana. The commander knew, when Darken gave an order, you did not fail, he did not want to end up in the dark caverns of the power station, or in the arena, as food for the Sager Cats. He remembered his days as a gladiator and did not want to return to that life, so the Lion-man turned to his men.
“When the Outlanders arrive, I want them watched, I do not want any trouble but make sure they behave themselves. Above all else, the Grana must be ours, do I make myself clear?”
The company of Hal-Jafar, shouted out their understanding, then waited. They were the peace keepers of the pyramid city and were all seasoned soldiers, of Off-World Wars. They had come to Gorn, to escape capture or being put on trial for War crimes. They were a mixed company, there were Trisasions, Bolbecs, Eleions and many more but all of them, were loyal to their commander, Tamar-Ran. He had proven he could lead them well and did not hesitate in battlefield decisions, they would remain loyal to him and the Governor, as long as their needs were met. They mostly consisted of strong drink, food and females, for a soldier there was little else that mattered.
The commander smiled at his men, “Very good and if all goes well, I will see to it that we shall have some special fun, when the job is done.” Yes, a large cup of Marsh-beer and a warm female.
The men let out a cheer, they knew what he had in mind. They would have a night with the Sin-Cravers, individuals who had become addicted to Ice and now spent their time in endless orgies, caring for little else.
Tamar-Ran gave the signal, for one of the heavy city doors, to be opened. There was a loud grinding sound, as the immense siege door, slowly opened, the bright light of day flooded into the dim interior. The commander gave the order to move and the Hal-Jafar marched into the bright sunlight.
The Almadra were approaching the stone city, they drew closer together and the warriors took up their positions around the tribe. They checked their weapons and made sure their armor was tight. The Frail-legs withdrew into their wagons and the children were put safely behind their parents. The watchful Thungodra, circled the Holy Wagon and pulled down their helmet guards, in case of a sudden attack. The Spike-backs with the Long-Range weapons, were also made ready.
Kuno was t
he leader of the Spikeback warriors, it was his responsibility, to make sure they were kept ready and in good order, in case they were needed. They had loaded the canons with explosive rounds, the powerful Disruptors had been charged up. If the King gave the order, they would not hesitate to fire.
As Arn saw the city dwellers running away from them, he could not help but smile, he had no hatred for them but no love either. They were not of his kind and never would be, he did not want to be their friend and knew it was better to be feared than ignored. As he watched them take shelter inside their mud-baked dwellings, he sat straighter in his saddle, he would act like a King and give them something to fear.
When he thought they were close enough to the massive city, Arn gave the signal to halt. The long column of Nomads came to an abrupt stop and then they waited.
The King looked around, the area was clear of city dwellers, there was a water well, not far off and good hard ground, it was safe. He turned to Agart, “Give the order to make camp and then we shall contact the Talsonar, it is not far to the city.”
Agart got down from his Whiptail and then came over to his brother, “I think it would be better to let them come to us, a King does not go to a Governor.” My brother has brought us safely to the city and I helped him, the Gods are pleased.
Arn realized, he still had a lot to learn about being a King, “Yes you're right,” he said, “Have the Grana wagons brought up and the Elders made comfortable. I think it would be best, if you negotiate our needs with the Off-Worlders.”
“As you command my King,” he smiled broadly at his older brother; I will help. Then he went off, to make sure all was well in the Nomad camp.
Andra had been driving Egmar's wagon, when she first saw the pyramid city, even though they were many miles away. She thought it was huge but seeing it up close, made her feel, there were no words to describe it. She had seen many great cities and fortresses, in her soldier’s life, the giant dome structures on Drymac and the battle fortress of the Yougonrie. None compared to the sheer size of the stone city.
She could just make out the beacon, on top of the structure, it was so high, that low clouds, were obscuring some of its light. The many levels, now open to the outside, made her think, there was a whole world inside. The outside surface was pitted and scarred and it told her, it was fantastically old. Whoever or whatever built this, must have been Gods in their own right.
She looked out over the horizon, in the haze, she could just make, out the tops of the Three Sisters, a group of high peaks that pointed in the direction of the next Pyramid City. Using them as reference, it was possible to travel to the next great structure but it was rarely used, for the creatures inhabiting that place, were said, to be demons.
Egmar had also seen the city, she was sitting quietly behind Andra, with her, were several Touch-tenders. The Queen, was still watched closely by her Handmaidens and all her needs cared for. The Queen had not spoken much to the Off-Worlder. She was not sure about her yet, she knew that Arn, had taken an interest in her and it did not please her. A King of the Madrigal, should keep to his own kind, there was nothing to be gained, by getting close to this Half-Soul. If Karn was still alive, he would quickly put a stop to all this familiarity, with Off-Worlders. Now Arn was King, it was not her place, to give him ultimatums, so she sat quietly and prayed to the Gods for deliverance.
When the signal was given to make camp, Andra pulled back on the reins and the Trofar came to a sudden stop. She got down from the wagon and stood looking at the immense city. She heard as a loud blast come from the structure, she knew it must be a signal, the Outlanders had arrived. At that moment, Seeda came riding up and got off her mount, she tied the beast to the wagon, then came over to Andra, as she stood staring at the city.
“They say the Gods themselves, built the pyramid cities,” she said, “this one is the home of the Talsonar. They say they eat their young and spend their lives in orgies of drugs and pleasure,” then she smiled, “What would a Moonbud know of such things?” Seeda liked teasing Andra about her name, she did not mean any harm but she liked to see the look on her face, when she called her a little flower.
Andra gave her a look, “I’d be careful of this flower, it has sharp thorns,” then she put her hand on one of the Dragons-teeth at her belt.
Seeda had to chuckle some, then she slapped her adopted sister hard, on the back, “Spoken like a true warrior.” She is learning our ways quickly.
Once the Nomads had made camp, the city people, slowly came out of hiding, they were always mindful of the Outlanders. They knew their quick tempers and were not sure what might happen but when they saw their tents going up and the Whiptails secured, they were eager to start trading.
To the people of the city, they were both devils and saints, without the Grana they brought, they would soon perish and they also brought many wonderful things to trade. Ivory tusks from the giant Thundra beasts, Rimar horns, Sagar Cat furs, hides of Hagar Bears and Burrow-babies. The feathers of the Onyx Bird, medicinal herbs and potions, shells and dried fish from the Sea People and much, much more. For their goods, the Talsonar would give them what they wanted, fine robes and weaving, Marsh-beer and pottery, jewelry, and rugs. The wagons they used for traveling and dozens of other items that the Nomads treasured.
There was one thing, no one ever spoke of and that was Ice. The pleasure drug was forbidden to the Nomads and was never permitted near their camp. If an Almadra was found with the substance, he or she was cast out. One of the most powerful Nomad tribes, the Argonie, had been destroyed by Ice. They had traded for the drug and soon found themselves addicted to it. They no longer hunted or traveled the Outlands, they gave up their wandering ways, to live near the pyramid cities, spending their days and nights in phantom dreams of delight. Now they were forgotten and the other tribes, only spoke their names in whispers. To be a Sin-Craver, was the darkest fate of any Nomad, you lived the rest of your life alone and when you died, your soul would never find the Greenland's and Golden Hall of the Afterlife.
It did not take the Nomads long, to make their camp and settle in. The King posted guards around the camp and gave orders that all warriors should be ready in case of trouble. It was always a matter of concern, when any Outlander came into the pyramid city. They were not allowed into the city itself, unless the Governor gave them permission. They were free to trade and wander outside as they wished but having a Nomad warrior inside was taking a great risk.
The Nomads had to leave their war-axes behind, it was a hard for them to do. Many of them refused to do so and remained behind in camp, rather than give up their weapons. The Nomads could carry their dragon’s teeth and wear their armor. It was a compromise that most of them could live with, although it went against their nature.
As the warm night fell, the traders opened their shops, ready to see what the Almadra had brought. There was a vast number of things to choose from, if you were looking to trade. Textiles for making robes and coverings, jewelry of gold and silver and precious stones, pottery for cooking and carrying wine and water, carved statues and offerings to the Gods. There were games of chance and finely worked instruments, to play music, drums and flutes, things the Nomads loved to own. There were shops with cooking utensils and exotic herbs to make soups and improve the taste of Rimar meat.
In the torchlight, the ever-present Sin-Cravers, would stand outside their dirty huts and show their bodies. A Nomad, only used to members of his own tribe, found it quite pleasurable, to spend an evening with city dwellers. It was not just the males of the tribe, who liked variety, the female warriors, could also be found lusting over a man from the pyramids.
The Nomads were not above the pleasures of the flesh. The leaders of the different tribes, had forbidden the use of the pyramid cities many drugs but it could not stop a warrior who wanted them. They could be found in dark dens around the city, where many were more than eager to trade their wares, for the valuable goods of the Outlanders. So as the moons of Gorn rolled slowly
overhead, the Bazaar of the Talsonar, was alive with people.
Seeda was eager to explore all that the city had to offer. The last time she had been here, was over a cycle ago and she had been injured, so she was not, able to see, everything she had heard about. This time, she vowed to take in all the wonders and delights, of the Talsonar. Almec as always, was by her side, he wanted to buy her a new robe and maybe a finely worked gold necklace. He was carrying a very large Rimar horn, over his shoulder, it should fetch a good price. Seeda stopped to look some trinkets, a man was selling.
She picked up a set of nicely made gold earrings, then looked at the man, sitting behind the counter, “I will trade you a set of Sager Cat teeth for these.” The merchant was a big man, with a matted beard and small piggish eyes, there was no hair on his large head and he was missing an ear. The other ear, had a heavy gold ring hanging from it, with a long tooth attached. The man shook his head, “I have all the Sagar teeth I need,” he pointed to the tooth hanging from his ear, “I will trade you for a large Robox root, if you have one.”
Everyone knew, Robox root was very hard to find and was worth far more, than a set of Sagar teeth. The root was used as an aphrodisiac and to grow hair, from the looks of the jeweler, he was in need of both, very badly.
“I will trade you half a root,” she replied. The bald man rubbed his head, at the spot where his ear was missing, thinking it over for a moment, “Done,” he said, then held out his thick hand for payment. Seeda reached into her worn trading pouch and took out a large Robox root, she broke it in two and handed half to the market seller, she took the earrings and started to walk away.
Almec looked at her, “You have many gold earrings already, you did not need more.” If only they were mated rings!
Seeda just smiled at him, “You can never, have too many earrings, besides it was my trade, not yours.”
The young warrior, did not want to get into another argument, with his future mate, he kept quiet. He felt, it was not the way of a Nomad but when the heart speaks, a warrior forgets everything. They walked past several trading stalls but they were not looking for cooking pots or charms, Almec spotted a large stall, selling fine robes.
“Look,” he said, “there, is a clothes merchant, I can trade for a new robe, for you.”
Seeda seemed preoccupied but went anyway, when they got to the stall, they found it filled with wonderfully made, robes of all kinds and colors. Garments of this quality, were not possessed by every Nomad. Male warriors, often traded for these rich garments, in hopes of impressing a female, at mating time.
As Seeda looked over the robes, Almec started to trade for his horn, he was driving a hard bargain with the wary robe merchant. The seller was an Oleian, they were well known for their intricate textiles and their shrewd haggling but they finally settled on a trade, which they were both happy with. The young warrior smiled, as he handed over his Rimar horn, “Then it is agreed, your best robe and seven lengths of fine cloth, for my horn.” Seeda will be pleased when she sees the robe, it is a good trade and I have the robe I wanted.
It was not the best of trades, the robe seller took the horn, then looked hard at the warrior, “And would you and your mate, care to add a little fire to your nights?” He smiled, as he made the remark. Almec was happy for the man to take them for mated but his smile turn to a frown, as the merchant took a small pouch out of his wide belt and poured the contents into his pale hand.
The warrior saw small crystals, they looked like Grana but they were a reddish color, he knew instantly, this was the pleasure drug called Ice. Almec, immediately began moving away from the merchant...Ice! The man is offering me forbidden Ice! “That is forbidden, I will take my robe and go,” he said. He was angry that the merchant, offered him such a thing, if the Elders of the Tribe had caught him with the crystals, he would be made an Outcast and that was something, he never wanted to be.
As he started to leave, he saw that Seeda talking to the merchant, she had overheard the robe seller and wanted to see the crystals for herself. As she looked at the reddish, ice like fragments, she remembered all the dark stories, about what the pleasure drug did. As a child, she overheard her mother, telling of the Argonie and how the forbidden drug destroyed them. She knew the Argonie were a weak people and it had been the will of the Gods and not the Ice, that put an end to the tribe.
“What is your trade offer for the crystals?” she asked.
Almec was horrified, hearing Seeda asking for a trade, he came over to her quickly and took her by the arm. “Let us leave this place, your trade, is forbidden by the Elders,” he whispered, lest any other Nomads, hear and tell the King of his sister's actions.
Seeda pulled her arm away and looked hard at the young man, “Do you always do what the Elders tell you to do?” Then she turned back to the merchant, “I will trade you half a Robox root for the crystals,” then she waited.
The merchant knew it was a fair price, he also knew that if a Nomad was willing to go against the laws of her tribe, she would be willing to offer much more. “I will trade you half the crystals for your root and two shell necklaces.”
He is cheating me but I want the crystals. She took out a shell necklace from her trading pouch, “Half a root and one necklace,” she said firmly.
The robe merchant thought it over for a moment, it was a good price. He decided to take the offer, before the warrior changed her mind, “Done,” he said, putting half of the crystals into Seeda’s hand, she in turn gave him the necklace and half a root.
Seeda put the crystals into her pouch and turned to Almec, “Now we can leave.” It is forbidden but I wanted the crystals.
The two Nomads turned and walked away with their purchases. The robe seller smiled and laughed a little, he knew they would be back and the next time, he would ask for more, he knew the Ice started a fire that could never be quenched.
Arn had agreed to meet with Tamar-Ran, to hammer out a trade for the Grana Salt. He decided to greet the Governor's envoy with all the pomp and splendor, the Almadra could muster. He had the large meeting tent set up and laid the floor with their finest rugs and furnishings. Fresh Rimar meat was cooked, along with their best soups and fruit, a new cask of Po was opened and the ceremonial drinking horns were made ready.
Arn, Agart and several of the best warriors, waited inside the tent for the leader of the Hal-Jafar to arrive, even Anais was there. He did not really want to be but it was the King's order, so he had no choice. He sat in a dark corner of the tent and drank silently, in the meantime, the others were sharing stories and drinking tales, as usual Agart, was retelling a story that always made everyone laugh.
“When I looked again, Arn was still sitting on the Blaze-ant nest, telling me he felt nothing but then he always had a very tough backside.”
The King shook his head, “That is because I could stay in a saddle, while you never could.”
Agart was just about to question that, when a guard announced the arrival of the Talsonar. The King put his drinking horn down and waited for the tent flap to open.
When it did, Tamar-Ran and several of his Hal-Jafar, entered. They waited for a moment or two, then their leader looked at Arn. “So you are the new King of the Almadra,” he said, with a broad smile; this King is a child, the Almadra are growing weak. “You seem very young, to be a leader of warriors.”
Arn stood up and came over to the Lion-man, he leaned forward and sniffed him; he is testing me, he thinks the Almadra are weak. “And you smell like a dead Sager Cat!”
Tamar-Ran held out his hand to the new King, “Agreed,” he said; this King has courage. He took Arn's hand and then began to shake it, Tamar-Ran began to squeeze hard. He liked doing this, when he met someone new, the Captain's grip, was well known, as one of the strongest of the Talsonar and had broken many a fist. As he squeezed, he realized that the King was squeezing back, even harder. Something, Ran had never felt before, they stood for some time, each testing the other for weakness.
Then A
rn smiled, “Agreed,” then with one final application of pressure that made the Lion-man wince, he let go of the Captain’s hand. Tamar-Ran was not used to being beaten in this hand game and made a growling sound, deep in his throat; this child is strong! The Almadra are not weak; he thought.
There was a tense moment, when the Nomads and the Talsonar both, put their hands on their weapons, it would only take a word from either, the King or the commander and the tent would become a blood bath. Tamar-Ran suddenly smiled, “Well said,” he slapped the King on his broad shoulder, “You will make a good King, your grip is strong, now let us see who can cheat the best at trading.”
Arn could see, this was a man who did not like to waste time, “Then let us begin, would you like something to drink?” he asked.
The commander smiled and looked around the room, “Do you have any Marsh-beer?”
Nomads of the Gods Page 13
