Eight Era, cycle 1721 – cycle of the squatting dog, season of Unkh, day 273
When Amaka woke, she did so in confusion. It was bright, and there was noise; had she been discovered by a carok scout group?
In a flash, Amaka was on her feet and had used the pounamu-skin spell. It was so bright in the cave that it hurt her eyes, and she struggled to make out shapes in the brightness. Something moved; it was little more than a dark blur in a patch of light, but Amaka singled it out and used her teleport to appear beside it. With one hand, she picked it up and slammed it against something strangely treelike, and pinned her other hand to its throat, her claws pricking the skin, forcing blood to ooze out.
She paused; the object in front of her was indeed a tree. The smell of the air was fresh, the feel under her feet was of grass – and the thing in her hand was a white-faced man.
Amaka dropped him and staggered back, her head darting from side to side to take in the illusion and seek for an escape. But it wasn’t an illusion. She remembered now that she’d escaped; they had all escaped. She was free!
The enormity of the realisation and the shame of her reaction had Amaka on her knees and crying. Hands touched her gently, and voices attempted to soothe her, but it took a long time for Amaka to calm down.
‘How long was I asleep?’ Amaka asked a long time later.
‘All the night and half the day; I’m Helmhock, by the way,’ a cheery-looking dwarf replied. ‘We were thinking you might be out for days with the way you were sleeping. You were as still as a corpse, unnervingly still, and dead to the sounds of the children playing and even old Ton’s singing.’
‘I’m Amaka, and sorry a-about how I reacted when I woke,’ Amaka said embarrassed.
‘Ack, he was a peeper! Back in the mines, if we caught a dwarf peeping, he’d be tied up by the drennarth (the part of the mines with the taverns).’
‘Oh, umm, that sounds painful.’
‘It’s meant to be!’ Helmhock replied with an evil grin.
‘So, where are we?’
‘Not a clue, but some of the humans say they spy a town a way down the mountain, and some of the goblins say they found a path up the mountain. Different species for you, that is; mind you, the dwarfs are inclined to go with the goblins, and the gnomes to go with the humans. We’re just waiting on your say-so.’
‘My say-so?’
‘Sure, you’re the hero of the hour – and many times a hero at that! You saved us, killed the queen, cleared the land of caroks and levelled us all up to boot!’
New quest: any port in a storm
You have freed yourself from Malox Passage, but you aren’t safe yet. You and your party need rest and succour. Find somewhere for them to safely find rest.
New quest: getting to know the neighbours
There is a small town near your location; investigate it and uncover where you are.
New quest: mountain climber
The goblins have found an interesting-looking path through the mountains; follow the path and discover any local secrets.
‘Oh, well, I guess the town would be best – for now. That’s guaranteed food and shelter over a difficult climb,’ she declared.
‘As you say, I’ll spread the word. I think it’ll take a day or two before we’re ready to move, but it’s best to get everyone on the same page,’ Helmhock concurred.
‘Good thinking; are you the group’s leader?’ Amaka queried, getting to her feet and stretching.
‘No, no, I’m just the eldest and I volunteered to be the one to rouse you.’
‘You don’t look that old.’
‘We dwarfs age well,’ Helmhock agreed with a nod. ‘Do you mind if I ask what species are you? Some of the boys… weeell, they are worried you might be part elf.’
‘Me, I’m… well, that’s a strange answer, but perhaps, for now, it would be best to treat me as human. I’m no elf, I swear.’
‘Fair enough then; I’ll treat you as one – for now. Unless you show any signs that are distinctly un-human.’
‘I need a bath; is there anywhere I can go to get clean?’
‘There sure is; that strange creature of yours left some clean clothes for you, and I’ll get Philippa to give you a hand.’
*
Philippa was a gnome with a gift for healing magic who was acting as their medic. She took Amaka to a sheltered stretch of river, removed Amaka’s dirty clothing and gave Amaka’s injuries a check over.
‘You left rather an impression on the children, Wiflebeast,’ Philippa said laughing, after Amaka had got clean and was feeling relatively normal again.
‘Wiflebeast? You make me sound like a sexual perversion,’ declared Amaka.
‘Some of the kids started calling you Warebeast, until one of the mothers said that “ware” means man and “wif” means woman, so you became Wiflebeast.’
‘Oh gee, thanks.’
‘Your head is healing nicely, your concussion has cleared up, and you’re going to keep your eye.’
‘I still have a migraine that makes my head feel too small.’
‘That’ll clear up, and you have a lovely bruise from where it fractured,’ Philippa explained, and she handed Amaka a coat.
Amaka pulled on the coat. With the collar up, it reached from her cheeks down to mid-calf; for some reason, wearing the large coat gave Amaka a sudden comforting feeling, like being hugged by a friend.
New item: coat of the wanderer
This coat is travel worn and battle scarred, and has been well cared for by the previous owner. It is windproof and waterproof, and the high collar gives the wearer a degree of anonymity, making it harder for others to identify you; ↑ 10 anonymity. It is also lined with a plethora of hidden pockets to protect valuables in disreputable parts of cities.
This coat is made from resilient materials and offers 5 protection points to your defence; its durability has been increased through years of care and attention to 35/35, and it is lightweight at 0.33 kg. This coat was made by an experienced tailored, cared for by someone with a good level of skill, and is of fine quality.
Whoever had owned this coat before her had loved it, that was clear. Amaka wondered what became of the person, whether they had died in the carok tunnels, lost the coat some other way, or perhaps were right now amongst the freed.
‘Well, back to camp; I could use something to eat,’ stated Amaka.
*
The meat was hot, fatty and thickly salted; juice dribbled down Amaka’s fingers, scalding them, and she salivated.
‘When you’re ready, we can join the rest of them,’ Helmhock said.
‘Where are they?’ Amaka asked, and she licked her fingers. Salt was the best – oh, how she’d missed salt, and sunshine, wind, and smells that weren’t bodily smells.
‘Just past the patch of thistles, there’s a path, and that’s where everyone had camped, after splitting into little groups,’ Philippa explained.
‘Why’d they split up?’ enquired Amaka.
‘Oh, well, some people needed some personal space after being locked together for so long, and you always get a bit of tension with mixed groups. You know how it is,’ Philippa clarified, trying to be tactful.
‘Men and woman you mean?’ Amaka probed.
‘No, but… forgive me, maybe you don’t know. Do you get many different species where you’re from?’ Philippa asked.
‘No, we get humans and animals but that’s about it,’ confirmed Amaka.
‘Oh, well… how would you describe it, Helmhock?’ Philippa queried.
‘Everyone was focused on how much they hated caroks, but now the caroks are gone they’re starting to remember that they don’t much like each other,’ Helmhock responded.
‘You mean some of these people know each other?’ Amaka asked.
‘No, it’s Кровь на ветру (Amaka’s skill translated the words to “Blood in the air”); don’t you know anything about the race wars?’
‘I’m still not getting it,’ Amaka said carefully. ‘So… hating someone just because they’re from somewhere else.’
‘You mean like a different reality?’
‘No, like a different city.’
Helmhock shook his head. ‘Dwarfs are dwarfs. In our language we don’t even have a way to ask where you’re from; it doesn’t matter. No, I mean different races, such as goblins, orcs, dwarfs, trolls, gnomes and brownies. The different races don’t get on at the best of times, but if an ogre stumbles into a cyclops den it isn’t walking out. Fortunately, there aren’t any blood rivals here; the worst we have to worry about is the goblins and humans, but then goblins don’t much like anyone. Everything was fine when we were escaping – we had a common enemy and all that – but now tempers are starting to fray. I know you said to think of you as human, but the goblins have a good sense of smell. I hope you’re not an orc, otherwise we’re not all leaving here alive, no matter how grateful they are.’
‘Not that goblins are known for their gratitude,’ Philippa added.
‘I’m not an orc,’ Amaka confirmed.
‘Good; so shall we rejoin the group? Let them see their illustrious hero in the warm light of day?’ Philippa suggested.
‘I’m not sure about all that, but we should get back. We probably need to be going soon,’ Amaka replied.
*
When Amaka stepped into view, you could see the news spread; groups would nudge each other, point and then exchange muted whispers, until everyone was in small groups muttering to each other.
A man stepped forwards, looking at his friends who’d pushed him and then back at Amaka. ‘I, ah… I just wanted to say… that is, well, thank you for, er, saving us all, I mean.’
There was a round of applause and a few shouts of thanks, but it ended quickly and everyone exchanged hesitant glances.
‘They are scared you might have an ulterior motive,’ Helmhock said misreading Amaka’s facial expression.
‘Oh,’ Amaka responded. It was the first time she’d seen them in good light, and, although many were emaciated and had been clearly mistreated, they were still – when you got down to it, and no offence meant or anything – monsters. The humans were humans; that was fine. But the goblins had dirty, grey skins; large foreheads; saucepan eyes; long, thin fingers; and knees that bent backwards. The dwarfs were like someone had gone crazy with a shrink ray at a body-building contest, and the gnomes hardly reached her knees. The entire menagerie was terrifying.
‘They want you to say something,’ Helmhock hinted.
Amaka looked from him to the gathered crowd and back again, and then noticed the fear held in their eyes and plainly marked on the faces of the young.
‘Did the caroks torture you? Everyone is scarred or marked in one way or another,’ Amaka whispered to Helmhock.
‘Not really; these are just the marks of hard lives.’ Helmhock shrugged.
‘But even the kids have scars and things!’ Amaka muttered, alarmed.
‘Of course; with monsters, diseases and bandits – it’s a hard life. There’s a saying, but you probably don’t want to hear it. Suffice it to say, don’t trust the beautiful; the only people you’ll meet without any marks are the nobles, merchants and healers, as they can afford to the coin to remove the marks of life.’
She cleared her throat. ‘I’m going to head for the town downhill; I think it’s where we can get the best chance of shelter and food. Afterwards, I’m going to take a look uphill and see what’s there. If it’s safe, I’ll come back and let you know. From that, you can decide where you want to settle down. Some of you may have family further off. Hopefully, this town will have news or something about the surrounding area, how safe it is and things.’ Amaka looked around, nodded and then stepped back to show that her speech was over.
‘Short and sweet, like me,’ Philippa said.
‘Shit, bathe and eat. We leave in an hour,’ Helmhock announced, and he clapped his hands together.
*
Amaka drifted away and sat by a tree as the group bustled around getting ready. The trees were a mixture of cherry blossom trees and weeping willows, except with blue petals. The trees had attracted pastel-coloured hummingbirds, and under the occasional fruit tree (which bore a fruit Amaka didn’t recognise) were turtles with richly patterned shells.
After being alone underground for so long, Amaka was finding the bustle claustrophobic and was therefore paying a great deal of attention to the wildlife. A large, antlered deer with fur coloured like a fox pranced between the trees, and Amaka leaned back with her eyes closed and let the sun warm her.
‘We’re leaving,’ a strident-yet-immature voice called out.
Amaka looked up to find a group of children gathered close to her, with the bravest child standing forwards – they were probably the one who had spoken. She looked around to see the group starting to move around, and she stood. The children stepped back as one, even the bravest one.
‘Well, are we going or what?’ Amaka asked, and she stalked off with her hands in her pockets.
They all set off. She summoned Stirgar as they walked, feeding the spell as much magicka as she could take. At about 90% depletion of her magicka pool, she felt the start of a headache and stopped feeding the spell magicka.
The path was old and overgrown. In some places it simply disappeared, and in one instance a massive tree had fallen across the path, and they had to climb over it, with the fittest of the group having to help the injured and young to climb over. Then the path became increasingly rocky; they had to pass in single file between boulders, which looked to have been cleaved in two. As they squeezed through, the path dropped away in a steep descent, and they had to scrabble down the rocks and twisting tree roots, only to then climb back up the other side of the gorge, which only seemed to exist to allow a narrow stream an easy descent down the hill.
As the path continued to throw up obstacles, Amaka understood why Malox had created his underground cave system. The fact that caroks had infested it meant that the caves had been forgotten about – or never discovered – but, with the news of a group of captives being freed, it wasn’t likely that the news of the caves would remain secret. And Amaka needed it kept secret to help Masinga remain hidden. Still, that was something to worry about later, as there was nothing she could do now.
A loud cry, like a child’s, came from inside the forest, followed by others moments later. Some of the group stopped and turned at the sound; others sped on, quickening their pace.
‘What was that?’ Amaka asked the person next to her.
‘I’m not sure, but I don’t like the sound of it,’ Garnavnar said, looking around carefully and fingering a knife in his belt.
‘It sounded like—’ Sillingma began.
But Garnavnar cut her off. ‘Don’t say it.’
‘What?’ Amaka questioned.
The answer came moments later as a shout cut through the confusion. ‘Imps!’
The shout caused panic; the group scattered, running back up the hill, further down the hill and a few people even tried to run off the path, which led to them slipping down a steep incline and having to be rescued by others.
Race: imp
Genus: winged ogreoid
Affiliation: Ifrit
Class: C
People have long believed that imps are a leftover from the daemonic races; however, no evidence can be found to support this. Imps are large creatures, between 4 and 5 foot tall, and are largely humanoid, with the obvious exception of large, fleshy wings. These wings are extremely manoeuvrable and allow the imp to fly with agility. Increase your lore to learn more.
Harvestable items: blood (uncommon), nails, horn
State: excited
Level: 12
Health unknown, stamina unknown, magicka unknown
Endowments: enhanced fire spells, resistance to air magicka
Curses: weakness to ice
Bestiary increased
Five imps flew out of the forest; they chittered to each other and seemed to be working as a group. One of them moved its large hands and spoke in a language that Amaka couldn’t quite hear. A large fireball appeared in its hands, and – moments later – fireballs exploded around Amaka and her group, as the imps jeered and tossed fire at the panicked group.
‘Archers to arms!’ Amaka shouted before teleporting in front of an imp.
Amaka had a short sword in her hand and moved through the forms taught to her by Masinga. Her movement was more fluid and natural, but her low blade level made the sword feel clunky and awkward in her hand. After the first strike, Amaka pulled the sword back for a backhand swipe and hit the imp with the flat of the blade by mistake, almost dropping the sword from the impact. The imp cried out in pain and flapped its wings, pulling away from Amaka and kicking at her with a horned foot.
A hail of arrows flew towards the imps, but their agile flight meant that most of the arrows missed, and the imps weren’t intimidated in the least. They returned fire with fire, literally in the imp’s case, as gouts of flame blossomed from the imps’ hands and rained down; people cried out in pain and a few screams rent the air as people caught fire.
‘Mages. Where are my mages?’ Amaka called as she danced after her target, able to keep it on the defensive but unable to land a clean hit.
‘They’re all dead except the medics; we’ve got archers, blockers, beaters and bruisers,’ confirmed Philippa.
‘Where are the blockers then? We need to absorb some of this damage. Where are my team leaders?’
The cry went out, and the team leaders started to make themselves heard, organising their units and reducing the casualty rate.
Amaka used her teleport and appeared behind an imp; attacking from so close behind allowed Amaka to overcome her handicap from her low weapons level, and she was able to deal full damage from her weapon. It was similar to how she’d been able to overcome her low level whilst in the carok den.
The imp managed to turn finally; Amaka’s low weapons level was unable to finish it off as she landed a flurry of blows, and the imp summoned flames in both hands ready to thrust gouts of flame at Amaka’s head. The imp jerked forwards and dropped to the floor, with the flames dying and an arrow clearly evident sticking out of the back of its head.
‘Cheers,’ Amaka called before teleporting off to a different imp.
With the groups organised, they were able to press the imps back and, once the imps were on the defensive, they were overwhelmed quickly.
‘Okay, I want scouts; until we have the village in sight, we’re acting like we’re still in the carok den,’ Amaka said
There were nods of agreement.
‘Let’s collect the dead and light a pyre,’ someone suggested.
Volunteers were called for to collect up the dead, whilst the young were sent for firewood, with an experienced fighter to guard them.
As people bustled around and the funeral pyre was built, Amaka checked her alerts.
Quest update: the old ways 1
You have discovered the language of the imps. Their language is so old that many have forgotten it is even a language, but once it was said that their language was closer to that of the true archaic language. Studying and using the tongue of the imps might have rewards.
New quest: in search of the true voice 1
You have discovered an archaic language, and have set foot on a path that few – even sorcerers – discover, and those who do keep it secret – this is the language of magicka.
Be careful; some things that are released cannot ever be put back. Just ask Pandora.
Skill increased: lore level 16
Well, she wasn’t short of things to do! It seemed if you so much as tripped over, there’d be a quest of the errant tree root. Also, Amaka really didn’t feel like paying the imps respect, but the fact was that her party needed the experience.
New badge awarded: united we stand 1
Ten people in your party have gained a level: ↑ leadership
*
Fortunately, the rest of the journey passed without much incident; the advanced party were purposely making a lot of noise to scare off as many beasts as possible. When Amaka summoned Stirgar, he appeared carrying a one-man-band style collection of instruments and made a raucous noise – much to the enjoyment of the children, especially when he started singing limericks. And it seemed to work, except when a panicked jackalope ran through the group, scaring the children and causing one man to stab himself with a spear.
The journey became progressively easier in terms of the terrain as well. The path rose and fell enough to exhaust the group quicker than normal, but the steep edges, the tangled tree roots and the clumsy rock paths had all stopped. It was a beaten-but-not-defeated group that finally arrived at the town, and the local guards were the first real trouble they’d had since the imps.
From a distance, they hadn’t been able to make out much of the town, but, as they approached, Amaka found it was a remarkable little hamlet. The residents had made use of an old fallen fort, which had suffered a staggering amount of damage. Half of the fort had subsided or been demolished in a grand battle, and the hamlet had taken over each exposed floor. The market was spread out over each floor, and, wherever the thick walls survived, the garrisoned guards had cannibalised it. There were thick wooden doors leading inside, with metal bands ready to slot in place to ward against invaders. As Amaka and her group drew closer, they noticed that a 12-foot-tall wall, made from wooden posts, secured the entrance, which was via a single road, and two guards stood either side of the gate.
‘Halt. What’s all this then?’ one guard asked, lowering a pike to guard the entrance to the town.
‘We’re escapees from a carok den who are looking for somewhere to rest in peace,’ Belafon replied, holding out his hands in a placating gesture.
‘What do we have here? Gnomes, dwarfs, humans and – goblins.’ He spat on the floor at that last word.
There was a tension to the group now, and a subtle movement to stand between the guards and the goblins.
‘I don’t like the look of any of you, but I’m going ask nice. Papers?’ requested the guard.
‘We ain’t got papers; we were held captive in a carok den, and they took everything from us: clothes, papers and even loved ones,’ Gorzark said.
‘Well, you see my problem, right? A bunch of armed people, of a multitude of different races, who have come here during the festival of Walpurgis Night – you could be here to cause trouble. Then they say they ain’t got papers, well…’ He inhaled sharply. ‘That could be costly to the town; perhaps a show of good intentions would be in order?’
‘What part of being held captive don’t ye understand? We don’t have any money,’ Gorzark stated.
‘This sounds like trouble,’ the second guard interjected, speaking for the first time.
‘It does that, Ted; it does that. What kind of group travel with no papers and no money? One or the other I could understand, if you don’t have papers, well… there’s always coin,’ the first guard maintained.
‘There’s always my fist to your face!’ Vorstarg shouted.
‘Trouble,’ Ted agreed, nodding.
‘How does gold prove our worth?’ Amaka enquired. She was at the back of her group, and they moved aside as she spoke, letting her have a clear path to the guards. Amaka didn’t want a clear path to the guards, but, as she was their little leader, she stepped through to the front.
‘It shows you’re here for honest intentions, don’t it?’ the first guard said.
‘But, surely, if I bribe you, it shows we’re dishonest people?’ Amaka replied.
‘Who said anything about a bribe? We’re talking about an act of goodwill,’ the first guard explained.
‘We’ve already shown you amazing good will; you’ve still got both your knees,’ Amaka proclaimed.
‘Look, miss, we’ve been threatened by the best,’ responded the first guard.
‘The very best,’ Ted concurred, nodding.
‘And no half-human-half-goblin hybrid like you is gonna scare us. Papers or coin,’ the guardsman reiterated, looking Amaka up and down. She was taller than he was, with thick arms for a lassie; perhaps she’d been a farm hand or something? She’d too much muscle for his liking; he liked a girl to be a girl, not half man. ‘Who are you? You look elven.’
‘They’ve got the look of Robin Goodfellow about them, Darren; deffo troublemakers,’ Ted added.
There was an inhalation of breath and a not-so-subtle drawing of weapons.
Amaka made a motion, and the group lowered their weapons reluctantly.
‘Well, we don’t seem to be friends here; however, that doesn’t mean we need to be enemies. Just let us pass, and we’ll go about our business peacefully,’ offered Amaka.
‘There’s still the issues of papers, or the coin,’ Darren said obstinately.
‘Very well, get your captain, and if he says there’s a fine for not having papers, we’ll pay,’ Amaka suggested, reaching into a pocket and bringing out a purse, which she threw up and down, letting the sound of the coins do the talking.
‘You don’t trust us?’ Darren asked.
‘Let us say I’m prepared to believe you, but that it is very easy to make money out of travellers. What’s the deal with guarding the entrance anyway? Are you expecting trouble?’ she enquired.
‘It’s the Walpurgis Night festival; we get Anasy from all over. There’s lots of coin, so plenty of chances for trouble.’
‘It’s an aggressive defence,’ Amaka stated.
‘Those who seek peace, prepare for war,’ Darren proclaimed with the air of someone playing a trump card.
‘Really? In my experience, those who go looking for trouble are usually after it,’ replied Amaka.
‘Where’d you get money from if you’ve been stuck in a carok den?’ Ted asked, and Darren nodded sagely.
‘We took their money and weapons, and cleared out the cave. That probably deserves a reward from the Baron.’ Vorstarg said.
‘Check the bounty board,’ Darren suggested to Ted.
Ted jogged off and went out of sight; he returned quickly, holding a brown scrap of paper.
‘I’ve got it here,’ he said and held it out to Amaka.
She looked at it quizzically.
‘Take it,’ Vorstarg prompted from the side of his mouth.
So Amaka shrugged and took it. A prompt appeared in Amaka’s vision, and a sound joined it.
New quest: cleansing the land 315
Reports of caroks stealing goats have increased in recent weeks; it is believed a carok den may have been established, and the Baron decrees 10 silver coins per carok head to whoever rids the area of them.
The parchment contained a similarly phrased paragraph, the red stamp of the Baron’s house and a blue symbol on the opposite side of the paper that looked like a tick.
Ted had been watching the paper and nodded. ‘It’s true; they’ve rid the forest of caroks,’ Ted said, pulling a clipboard out from somewhere behind the wall and making a note. ‘You’ll want to speak to Chancellor Newland; he’s in charge of the bounties, but he isn’t stationed here. You’ll need to head to Warringay to collect the reward.’
Quest update: cleansing the land 315
You have completed the bounty; return to Chancellor Newland to collect your reward.
‘So can we come in?’ Amaka asked.
‘Fine, we lost some men to the caroks, and I guess you’ll need to restock,’ Darren uttered grudgingly.
‘You know, it would be easier if you greased the wheels a little,’ Belafon whispered to Amaka as they walked in.
‘Look, it’s not that I have anything against braking the law, and I get that being a guard comes with perks, mumping and that,’ Amaka explained.
‘What’s mumping?’ Belafon queried.
‘Accepting small bribes, like maybe the owner of a café wants to give you a free tea and a sandwich, or something; little things. But a coin bribe is a different matter. If you’ll sell out your city for a few coins, that’s not the same as taking some grub in thanks. So, what, rich people can’t commit crimes?’
‘I’m not sure that’s a logical conclusion from accepting a small bribe.’
‘Look, where I come from, rich people had power, private law and all that. My people lost their land to the rich; I’m not bringing that with me here. As far as I’m concerned, greasing the wheels with coin is banditry and scummy behaviour.’
‘That’s a bit much! It’s okay for you, you’re intimidating and you used power over coin, but I couldn’t strong-arm my way in here like you. That’s where a little coin comes in, you know, for the little guy.’
‘I didn’t strong-arm; we completed the quest, otherwise I would have gone elsewhere.’
*
When they arrived inside the hamlet, they found it was thriving, traders and civilians bustled around in such a way that it looked like a disturbed anthill.
‘If it’s so busy, then why is it so small?’ Amaka asked a man named Julius, who happened to be next to her.
‘It’s due to Walpurgis Night; that’s always busy,’ he answered.
‘So what is Walpurgis Night?’
‘One of the many festivals; a well-informed traveller could spend the year travelling from feast to feast, and end up with an army of angry mothers behind them.’
‘Really?’ Amaka queried with a laugh.
‘If you know which route to take and where to go, you can easily find somewhere having a feast. In my youth, the best I did was a feast every two weeks, except on three occasions when I was a day late.’
The hustle, the bustle, the sun, the musicians in the streets, the storytellers, the jugglers and the tumblers made the hamlet full of life. Amaka withdrew further into her coat and bought her troop lunch, before sharing the coin out amongst them and receiving most of it back as people refused to take it.
‘So, I think it’s evident that we can’t stay here,’ Gorzark said, picking up a jacket potato and eating it like a sandwich.
Some of the humans looked uneasy at his words; they would be welcome as it was a human city.
‘We can’t just move on, the injured and children need rest,’ Philippa replied.
‘That is true,’ Gorzark conceded, nodding.
‘So what are our options?’ asked a gnome called Trey.
‘I think the only choice we have is to continue our search for somewhere to live,’ Helmhock suggested. ‘Together; at least, I don’t want to go off with just dwarfs. I’m bound to you lot.’
‘But you have – had – homes, before the caroks. Can’t you return to them?’ Amaka asked.
‘We were traded to the caroks as slaves; do you think anyone would have us back?’ a goblin called Apc questioned.
‘Oh, right,’ Amaka stated.
‘We can go our own ways from here; tethark noc nwell,’ articulated a goblin called Felt; and the words were translated to Amaka as ‘we feed our own’.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
‘Some of us have made friends,’ Pluck, yet another goblin, declared.
There was some agreement, and a woman and goblin who were sitting rather close to each other looked a little sheepish suddenly.
‘Silsim?’ someone said, which translated to ‘whose kill?’ which was a common goblin saying when there was a disagreement over anything.
Felt growled but seemed to concede the point.
‘We still have the other option of going higher into the mountains. If there’s nothing up there, then we can make a decision – but if there’s a place that’s friendly to all our races, then we can take a chance,’ Amaka suggested.
‘What’re the chances of finding anywhere that’s multiple-race friendly this deep into human territory?’ probed Gorzark.
‘You can leave if you want, but some of us want to stay together,’ confirmed Helmhock.
‘Does it matter?’ Amaka asked. ‘If you want to leave, take some money and be free – no one will resent you. If you want to stay as a group, then… well, perhaps it means travelling around for a bit until you find somewhere safe. It doesn’t need to be such a big decision.’
‘The truth is that nowhere is safe now. There’s unrest everywhere,’ Helmhock stated, and the mood amongst the group became more sombre.
‘Fiend incursions are on the rise,’ pronounced Gorzark.
‘They always are,’ added Philippa.
‘What about you Wiflebeast? What are you planning?’ a woman named Leanna asked.
Amaka winced at the use of the name. ‘I’ve got some quests to do, some local stuff, so I guess I’ll be sticking around for a bit. If you want, I can head into the mountains and see where the road leads? But I’ll need some time to recover first.’
*
Amaka arose the next day and spent the morning looking around at the various goods on display. She had travelled in her previous life and had been to places where it was natural to barter, where she had found out that she couldn’t barter. She didn’t like arguing with the storekeeper; they always seemed to take it personally, even though everyone else was bartering with them. Amaka preferred to see a price and decide if she wanted it. She didn’t want to have to barter for 5 minutes just to fail to get to the price she wanted and have to walk away. It seemed like a colossal waste of time, and she was an easy target – she knew she was.
Someone approached her with a large-brimmed hat, effusing about how it would suit Amaka. She just stared at the person, wondering how best to get rid of them. Her blank stare whilst she thought of what to say unsettled the seller, who dropped the price. This confused Amaka, and she continued to stare at the man whilst she tried to work out if one silver bit was a lot of money here or not.
She listened to the other sellers, gauging how much they were willing to sell their wares for and what else one silver piece could get her. The salesman looked a little desperate at her dispassionate stare and dropped the price again before Amaka could work out what the other goods were selling for. She felt sorry for the man, who was now looking distinctly uncomfortable, and picked out some copper coins from an inside pocket and offered them to him.
The man looked down, bobbed his head in agreement, actually smiled and scurried off into the crowd. Amaka turned the hat this way and that, not being all that keen on it, but she was getting a few glances due to her odd looks, and so she put the hat on and pulled it low.
New item: large-brimmed hat
This hat is travel worn and well-aged, with a wide brim for protection from the sun and that will keep your face obscured when travelling in dubious places.
This hat is made from bamboo, and offers 0 protection points to your defence, 25% to the concealment of your identity, its durability is 8/8 and it is lightweight at 0.1 kg. This hat was made by someone with experience, but the material is limited in its quality – which is standard.
It was a useful hat and worth the two over-large copper coins she paid if it meant she wouldn’t get constant stares from people. She suspected from the size of the coins there were worth twenty-five if not fifty copper coins.
As Amaka moved through the crowds, she decided she didn’t like shopping when the market was teeming with people, so she made up her mind to head to the tavern for an early lunch. When she pulled free from a mass of people, she noticed a stage with a line of people in shabby clothes and downcast expressions. A man was strutting up and down the stage making boisterous noises.
Name: Tayler Kept
Race: human
Genus: sapient
Affiliation: none
Class: C
State: happy
Level: 25
Health unknown, stamina unknown, magicka unknown
Endowments: none
Curses: none
Amaka noticed one of the people she’d freed, Owein, standing in the crowd gathered around the stage, and she approached him. He didn’t seem to recognise Amaka at first, and looked to take a step away, but then he recognised the coat and peered intently under her hat.
‘Is that you Wiflebeast?’ Owein asked.
Name: Owein Harnagan
Race: gnome
Genus: sapient
Affiliation: Gaia
Class: C
State: friendly
Level: 36
Health unknown, stamina unknown, magicka unknown
Endowments: none
Curses: none
‘Please don’t call me that. What’s going on here?’ questioned Amaka.
‘This is the apprenticeship market; young hopefuls take to the stage for a chance to get an apprenticeship,’ Owein replied.
‘It seems an odd thing for the parents to do; a bit – what’s the word? Chauvinistic? No, that’s not the word, but it seems bizarre,’ Amaka said scanning the faces of the children.
‘Well, these kids come from places where there isn’t much work, except perhaps farming, but even a farm can’t take everyone. So they come here in the hope of learning a trade; many a blacksmith or tanner gets their start here.’
‘They seem rather young; aren’t the parents concerned for them?’
‘Perhaps, but they need a job for their child, and they need the money.’
‘Wait, people buy an apprentice? Now I know you’re leading me on.’
‘There’s always a shortage of skilled labourers. But, well… once you own the apprentice, you see, then it’s up to you to train them; that sort of thing. And, well, discipline them, and choose how you to train them and in what. Once you own them, you don’t owe them a wage, see?’
‘That sounds more like an indentured servant; heck, let’s call it what it is: slavery.’
‘Well, some places still have slaves; it’s an officially recognised form of property, and you can be made a slave by the state. And some places kind of turn a blind eye to it; they know it happens, and it isn’t illegal to own a slave, just to make someone a slave. Then there’re the places where it is illegal to own slaves and so… well, they don’t check up on apprenticeships.’
‘So there are slavers buying them.’
‘Not always; maybe 10% of the people here. The parents like to pretend that their child is one of the few getting an honest trade.’
‘What about you guys? Were any of you bought here?’
‘I can’t say; I wasn’t.’
‘But there are children in our group,’ Amaka replied
Owein scratched his head. ‘True. I assumed that they were sold as a family, but, saying that, I could be wrong, and they might have been sold at an apprenticeship auction.’
‘Who bought you?’
‘The person was called Kimmuck, but I heard he was working for someone called Neffer Mawds,’ explained Owein.
New quest: silent voices 1
There is a highly active slave trade operating over the lands, selling all races and all ages. Find the source of the slave trade and put a stop to it. There is unlikely to be one single point of failure, and you will likely have to deal with many powerful and influential people to truly put a stop to it.
However, you walk in the dark and may wish to take advantage of the slave trade for your own uses…
The current hopeful was a girl who was clearly wearing a new second-hand outfit and was nervously adjusting her clothing. The girl scanned the crowd carefully, not making eye contact with anyone.
‘Next up, Syeda; who can give Syeda an occupation?’ Tayler called, gesturing to the girl with vague arm movements.
Name: Syeda Lara
Race: human
Genus: sapient
Affiliation: Gabija
Class: C
State: friendly
Level: 6
Health unknown, stamina unknown, magicka unknown
Endowments: none
Curses: broken destiny
‘This is disgusting; who’d reduce themselves to this?’ Amaka questioned.
‘I was sold at an apprenticeship auction, bought by a tanner for some copper, and learned a trade. There are some honest buyers out there,’ responded Owein.
‘Why is she wearing all that stuff? We can’t see her attributes,’ a man called from the front of the crowd; he had his arms crossed, and was scanning the girl up and down critically.
‘Not for the girls,’ Amaka said catching Owein’s eye.
‘Possibly not,’ Owein capitulated, fidgeting awkwardly.
‘Sh-she can cook and darn, and she knows her basic letters.’ That could only be a prideful mother’s voice.
Name: Tara Lara
Race: human
Genus: sapient
Affiliation: none
Class: C
State: friendly
Level: 29
Health unknown, stamina unknown, magicka unknown
Endowments: none
Curses: none
‘Reading only gets in the way of a good education,’ the man replied to cheers. ‘Five is a lot when we can see so little. I’ll give one silver.’
‘We can’t accept one; it cost more than that in lost labour to get here!’ a man – clearly the father – replied.
Name: Bogden Lara
Race: human
Genus: sapient
Affiliation: Gabija
Specialisation: none
Class: C
State: friendly
Level: 22
Health unknown, stamina unknown, magicka unknown
Endowments: none
Curses: none
Amaka looked around for the parents; Tara was in a knitted jumper with fraying cuffs and was nervously playing with a loose thread, and large man with a thick beard stood next to her.
Syeda started to unbutton her simple jacket.
‘That man clearly wants her for her body; can’t her parents see that?’ Amaka asked, frustrated.
‘They might not have a choice if they don’t have enough money to feed all three of them, and once entered they aren’t always allowed to refuse an offer,’ Owein answered.
‘But he’s not giving her an apprenticeship; he just wants a hooker.’
‘With all due respect, mistress, some say it is the oldest profession.’
‘Look at me, Owein; do you think I’d want to do that? I’m a woman after all.’
‘With all due respect, mistress, I’d pay good money not to be alone with you in the dark.’
‘Then doesn’t everyone deserve that chance?’ Amaka probed, her lips twitching into a smile.
‘Well, why don’t you buy her?’
‘What would I do with her?’
‘And, unfortunately, that’s the parents’ predicament. You can only hope that, when it’s your child, they get a good trade. Unfortunately, this is only a poor region, and many families travel for weeks to get to more expensive areas and give their children better chances, for a start.’
‘Whores in affluent areas are called courtesans; it’s all the same trade.’
‘We aren’t all born equal, mistress. Some of us have luck, and some don’t.’
‘Too true, Owein; too true.’
There were clearly tears in the mother’s eyes as the crowd appreciated what the simple top outlined.
‘Can she dance?’ a voice called.
Tayler looked confused, and he scanned around for the speaker.
‘Can she dance?’ slowly and distinctly, the voice called again, and Amaka realised she was speaking, her mouth was operating before her brain had a chance to think it through.
‘Dance? Can you dance?’ Tayler asked turning to Syeda.
‘My lord, what do you need her to dance for?’ Tara asked as she spotted Amaka.
‘I travel; I could use a distraction whilst I camp in the evening: a dance, a song or a story. Well, what can you offer?’ queried Amaka.
‘I can dance, and I know of a few stories,’ Syeda replied, and, slowly, she started to dance.
It wasn’t a bad dance either, Amaka admitted to herself. It wasn’t a sensual dance – which Amaka was grateful about, as she didn’t want the girl to embarrass herself in front of her mother – it was more a display of gymnastics and athletics than a dance, but Syeda seemed fit.
‘Not bad; it will amuse me whilst I wait for the meal to cook,’ confirmed Amaka.
‘Who are you? I’ve never seen you here before?’ called the man who wanted Syeda for one silver.
Name: Jorden Greene
Race: human
Genus: sapient
Affiliation: none
Class: C
State: concerned
Level: 35
Health unknown, stamina unknown, magicka unknown
Endowments: none
Curses: none
‘That’s the Wiflebeast, and she’ll eat your soul!’ one of the children Amaka had rescued cried from the gathered crowd.
‘Tayler, I don’t recognise this man; he shouldn’t be allowed to enter the auction.’
‘There’s no rules on who can buy, Jorden; he is entitled as anyone else,’ Tayler, the man on the stage, replied. ‘So, Wiflebeast what will you pay?’
Amaka opened her mouth to explain that “Wiflebeast” wasn’t her name, but decided not to bother. To deny the name was only to acknowledge the stupid thing. ‘What exactly am I buying? What are the terms of the contract?’ Amaka asked.
‘You are buying this girl to be indentured to you. The common length of the contract is five years, and in that time you must pay for her boarding, clothing, food and such – but, in return, she will work for you for free for that duration. Therefore, it behoves you to train her well so that you get your price back.’
‘What if I have no place to stay? I travel a lot and camp frequently.’
‘It isn’t that formal of a contract, as long as the child comes to no harm. Should the child die or be crippled, then you forfeit an agreed upon sum. Usually, this is three times the price of the contract.’
‘And how are these rule governed? I won’t be staying in this region.’
‘No matter, the apprentices’ guild covers the entire Sphere – more or less.’
Global slavery? Amaka thought.
‘And should you find your circumstances change, or that your training is effective and someone seeks to buy the contract, that is your right also.’
‘One gold,’ Amaka said; she hated negotiating and she had no idea of value in this world, so it seemed the easiest price to offer that would end the auction quickly. She wanted to be away from this grim exploitation.
There was a shocked susurration in the crowd; it seemed one gold was a rather lot.
Amaka summoned Stirgar; she carried no gold on her. There were shocked cries from the crowd as this stranger summoned a fearsome creature – Stirgar had appeared wearing some sort of battle armour.
‘Now what?’ Amaka asked herself as Stirgar handed over a gold bit to Tayler, who looked terrified.
‘She’s a good kid, sir; she won’t let you down. She knows her numbers and can read – if a bit slowly. She can cook, darn and knows her manners,’ Tara said approaching Amaka and wringing a handkerchief around her thumb.
‘Does she? Um, good,’ Amaka responded, and she looked Syeda over. ‘High stamina, 600 at level 6.’
Tara looked taken aback. ‘Why, yes, sir; she’s very fit you see, she loves to run around but she can walk all day, which will do well with your travelling.’
‘Indeed, how fortuitous. What’s “broken destiny”?’
Tara looked shocked and scared at Amaka’s perceptiveness. ‘Well, sir, she was chosen from birth as one of Gabija’s – I worked in the temple, see? But the village was destroyed, the last temple of Gabija was burned to the ground and not many of the faithful were left. The gods get their power through faith – well, I’m sure you know that, sir – and, without any faithful left, Gabija died, you see?’
‘But you worked in the temple and you said others escaped?’
‘Well, yes, sir. Only I was never devout to Gabija; I was just a simple washerwoman.’
‘I see, and so what does it mean to have a broken destiny?’
‘Well, sir, it means her experience will be handicapped, so 25% of all experience she earns is lost. But, as you can see, she is able to level up; it just takes her a while. It also applies to learning new skills.’
‘I see,’ Amaka said again, not really sure what to say. ‘She has a rather high level considering her broken destiny then.’
‘Of course, she’s a good girl, sir.’
‘What made you sell her today?’
‘Well, sir, there’s a person over there buying up a lot of the apprentices, and so we felt it might be a good day.’
Amaka looked at where Tara pointed. A man stood with a shaven head and a thick build, shown off by his sleeveless vest, a double-handed hammer was strapped to his back.
Name: Onex Plex
Race: human
Genus: sapient
Affiliation: Neffer Mawds
Class: C
State: alert
Level: 51
Health unknown, stamina unknown, magicka unknown
Endowments: unknown
Curses: unknown
‘There’s that name again,’ Amaka muttered.
‘Sorry, sir?’ Tara asked.
‘Do you know who that is?’
‘No, sir, I’ve never seen him before.’
‘Hmm, I think I’d like a word. Excuse me,’ Amaka said, and she approached Onex.
Amaka looked over Onex’s purchases and thought they all had a familiar look about them: scrawny, malnourished and dressed in shabby robes held up with string. If she had to guess, they were all homeless; in other words, they had no one to miss them.
‘Congratulations on your haul, Onex; that’s a healthy shopping spree,’ Amaka declared as she approached.
Onex looked around, confused.
‘You must be busy to need such a large intake,’ added Amaka.
Onex scowled; clearly, he wanted to say she had him confused with someone else, except she knew his name. ‘We recently lost a lot of staff.’
‘What happened, a jail break?’
Onex grunted. ‘They reached the end of their apprenticeships.’
‘Oh, that’s nice; most people treat them like slaves.’
Onex didn’t respond.
‘I was in Mordor recently, and I lost an auction to a friend of yours: Saruman.’
‘I know no Saruman.’
‘Yeah, well, I guess if you work for a big corporation, you can’t get to know everyone, right? There’s no water cooler large enough. But he was talking to me about Neffer Mawds, and saying I should come work for him.’
‘I do not know what you are talking about; I think you have mistaken me for someone else.’
‘That’s a discrepancy with the truth. You’re called Onex Plex, right? Human, level 31 and affiliated with Neffer Mawds?’
Onex’s eyes narrowed. ‘I will go now.’
‘You’re not great at small talk,’ said Owein, who’d followed Amaka.
‘I don’t think he liked me,’ Amaka replied, watching Onex depart with his gaggle of children.
‘You were talking awful funny,’ Owein commented.
‘I was just trying to piss him off and get a rise out of him in the hope he’d let something slip. He was good though; I’ll give him that.’
‘How’d you know all that about him?’
‘I have a spell that lets me see people’s info; it comes in handy during a fight. I don’t want to watch any more of this; it’s depressing as hell.’
‘Fair enough. I’m going to stick around – this takes me back to my own childhood.’
‘Oh gods, this place is grim.’
*
Amaka took her new charge to the tavern for lunch; whatever was next would be better with a full stomach. As they ate, Amaka appraised her new “friend”.
Syeda was short and whippet thin, with dirty-blonde hair in thick braids that reached down to her chest and what looked like face paint in tribal styles – she looked like a cross between a Naruto character and a skater punk.
‘I’m Amaka, and this is Stirgar; he’s a beast or something, and I can summon him with a spell,’ Amaka said.
‘I’m a garğ, not a beast,’ Stirgar clarified, with a mouth full of gravy-soaked bread.
‘I’m Syeda, a human,’ Syeda replied, watching Stirgar with amusement.
‘I have an ability that lets me see some of your information,’ Amaka explained, nodding. ‘Your mother also told me about your condition.’
‘So why did you buy me, lord?’
I didn’t want to see you become a prostitute, Amaka thought.
‘Don’t call me lord; mistress is more appropriate, but you can call me Amaka. And I didn’t buy you, I bought your indenture-ship… indenturtion… indenturere… I bought you as a companion,’ Amaka said in reply.
‘A companion?’ Syeda asked her eyebrows rising.
‘Sure, co-op games are always more fun,’ Amaka confirmed, nodding. ‘I mean, I could use a second pair of hands, so I’m not your owner or master, but I lead the group. That is, the group of two.’
‘Three,’ Stirgar said, turning his belch into the word.
‘Yes, three,’ Amaka agreed, moving away from the offensive smell that accompanied his belch. ‘So we’ll travel the roads, complete any quests I get, and you’ll get a third of what I make. I could use someone to watch my back, and to cover more ground when I’m searching a cave or something. You could be useful.’
Amaka said that last part to convince herself, deciding that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
You have made a party: current party size – 2
As Stirgar is a summoned being and naturally shares all experience with you for the duration of his summoning time, he does not count towards the max party size.
‘You’ve formed a party! I’ve never been in a party before!’ Syeda cried, her mouth splitting into a wide beam and her face lighting up.
‘Yes, of course; I meant to do that. So what are your skills and abilities?’ queried Amaka.
‘I’m a level 7 cook, level 17 with a bow, level 23 at negotiations, level 12 at foraging… is something wrong?’ Syeda asked pausing at Amaka’s look.
‘Level 23 at negotiations! How have you manged that?’
‘My parents make things out of clay; I’ve been helping them sell their goods since I was a child.’
‘How old are you now?’
‘Seventeen.’
‘Okay, well, I have your first job. I’m going to go and check out the bounties to see if there’s anything easy on offer. I want you to sell all the crap from the cave that we can’t use, but keep anything in good condition or that’s been well made. Stirgar help her out, and check out her skills and stuff – you’ve got more experience of this world than I.’
‘You’d trust me with your possessions?’ Syeda asked.
‘Why not? It’s not like I’m giving you the key to the safe. Stirgar has them all, so, between the two of you, you can get some good prices, yeah? I’m going to go look at the bounty board to see if we can’t build up a reputation for being reliable, and then, hopefully, I can pick up some clues as to how to do a quest I have; some god or demi god or something is being hidden here.’
‘She’s under the castle,’ Stirgar interjected.
Amaka and Syeda turned to look at him; he had his finger in his ear and was picking out gunky earwax.
‘What?’ he asked, noticing them.
‘How could you possibly know that?’ Amaka asked.
‘They’re using a laminar-confinement spell.’
‘I repeat the question, how do you know?’
‘I can sense it,’ Stirgar confirmed, then he scratched his butt, sniffed his fingers and then continued. ‘Magicka is distinctive in the way that it flows around in its natural state. In theory, a laminar is impossible to detect because it mimics the natural magicka, as though it is undisturbed, but the spell itself stands out like a beacon if you’re familiar with it.’
‘What’s so significant about this spell? Why are you familiar with it?’
‘It’s the spell most warlocks use, and have used for centuries, to summon daemons; as such, we’re rather familiar with it.’
‘Oh,’ Amaka said taken aback. ‘Good knowledge that, daemon.’
‘What quest is this for?’ Syeda enquired.
‘I’ve been given a quest to free someone in this hamlet, and Stirgar seems to be able to see all of my abilities, stats, spells and quests. It would be frightening if he were a more powerful daemon,’ Amaka stated.
‘Looks can be deceiving,’ Stirgar declared huffily.
‘Anyway, starting tomorrow, I’ll look for a quick and easy bounty to start building reputation, and you two can try to get some good deals. Then, if we can get a good rep, I might be able to buy this friend of my nameless mistress, as everyone else seems for sale here. After that, we’ll hit the hill and see if there’s a friendly town,’ explained Amaka.
‘What did you want to do for the rest of the day, mistress?’ asked Syeda.
‘I guess we go back out. I’m not mad on crowds, but – since there’s a festival on – we might as well get some idea of the customs around here.’
*
Stirgar was now wearing some sort of animal-skin trousers; they still had the coarse, brown hairs from whatever animal had been skinned to make them – probably some sort of giant field mouse – and his waistcoat was from a mammal, as it had clearly defined teats.
‘Do you have to wear that?’ Amaka asked Stirgar.
‘It was my father’s,’ he replied.
‘I hope you don’t mean it was actually your father’s skin,’ Amaka responded with a shiver.
The crowds seemed inclined to move apart for Stirgar in his strange dress, and Amaka – who at nearly 6 foot tall was a head taller than most people. The three reached a stand selling clay masks.
‘These ones were made by my mother,’ Syeda said, pointing out a group of masks that seemed similar to all the other masks.
‘What are they meant to be?’ Stirgar enquired, picking one up.
‘That’s a troll, that’s a jackalope and that’s a drake,’ clarified Syeda.
‘They all look the same,’ he responded.
‘No they don’t, Stirgar,’ Amaka said hurriedly. ‘This one’s good.’
‘That’s Queen Alassia,’ Syeda explained, smiling.
‘Very good,’ Amaka confirmed, nodding and putting it back.
‘How do you get them to stay on?’ Stirgar asked, picking up the mask of the queen.
‘There’s a bit of material moulded into the clay, and you just tie it around your head,’ Syeda replied.
Stirgar paid for the mask and tied it on. ‘I feel all pretty,’ he declared.
‘Where did you get money from?’ Amaka quizzed, narrowing her eyes.
‘Those caroks had lots of odd coins on them,’
‘That’s my money,’ Amaka said tartly.
‘Hey, I thought we were a team!’ Stirgar exclaimed with mock indignation.
‘Yes, but it’s not like I was going to pay you. You’re a summoned servant!’
‘I feel offended; my mother even cleaned the stains from the armour we robbed off the dead! And she mended the worst bits, my hearts break. I’m not a servant, I’m an equal.’
‘But if I summoned you, can’t I make you do things?’
‘How would you do that then, boss?’ Stirgar asked, stealing a honey-glazed apple from a stall.
‘You’re not compelled to follow my orders?’
‘I could kick you in the knee if you don’t believe me.’
‘No, no, that’s fine. So you want to be paid?’
‘No, just don’t take me for granted; treat me like the beautiful, delicate flower I am,’ Stirgar requested, picking an insect from his trousers and eating it.
‘Noted,’ Amaka remarked, rolling her eyes. ‘Fine, we share loot, as long as it means I don’t have to carry the stuff and your mother washes it all. I guess all the gold raised can go into a team fund or something. Also, kit Syeda out in the best stuff we have. That dress she’s wearing can’t be offering much protection.’
‘You don’t have to, mistress,’ Syeda replied shyly.
‘It’s Amaka, and, yes, I do. I can’t have you dying on me, and it wouldn’t be fair to have you join me so unprepared. It’d be manslaughter or something – death through negligence.’
They passed many stalls full of rather poor goods, and Syeda explained this was because, although the fair was a popular celebration, Avalia was little more than a watering stop for horses. It was a well-guarded location, but a trader of any means would travel further to a more established location – even if it meant travelling for many weeks in some cases. Syeda’s parents had only travelled to Avalia because one of their horses had become lame over the winter.
They moved away from the trade goods to the entertainment section, and passed a one-legged juggler. They knew he was one-legged because a sort of ringmaster was calling out to everyone to come and see the one-legged juggler. His one leggedness wasn’t used in the routine, and they quickly passed on.
There was a tent with the label ‘World of Freaks!’, and Amaka was appalled to see the treatment of the people inside. Children and parents were ogling and degrading the people locked inside wheeled cages with dehumanising captions placed above them. The ‘Painted Monster’ was, according to Amaka’s all-seeing-eye ability, a mountain imp; and, according to Amaka’s lore, the markings weren’t paint but colouration unique to each mountain imp. The ‘Hairy Woman’ was a naked, adolescent snow ogre, and the ‘Munchkin’ was a dark skeet – a species new to Amaka. She had heard of “dark elves” in books before, but couldn’t remember what made them dark.
Skill increased: lore level 17
‘This place is like a Victorian noir novel,’ Amaka muttered.
‘What’s that?’ Syeda asked.
‘Oh, noir novels are like… dark, gritty things where the people are moody and erudite, but only in a grim way, so every other word they say is miserable, and even the world is always dirty and grey.’
‘And what’s Victorian?’
‘Oh, well, where I come from, Victoria was a queen, and the time she reigned is called the Victorian age after her, and people like to set books during that time because it was when the world was still mostly uncharted, secrets lurked at every corner, and disease and ignorance were rife.’
‘Sounds like my kind of place,’ Stirgar said.
‘Probably,’ agreed Amaka.
They passed stalls butchering and cooking odd-looking animals over open fires; the flames licked the fatty meat, and the heat from the impromptu cooking section of the hamlet was immense, as was the smell.
‘Ooh, they’ve got puffin goat!’ Syeda exclaimed.
‘What?’ Amaka asked.
‘What? You’ve never eaten puffin goat? Oh, it’s amazing; you can smell it in the air.’
‘I can smell a lot of things; which one is the goat?’
‘Not just a goat – a puffin goat; it has a distinctively different taste. Can you smell the one that has a sharper edge to it? That’s the puffin goat.’
‘Not really; do you want some?’
‘Yes, please!’
‘You only just ate; how are you so skinny?’
Syeda shrugged, and Amaka followed her to a small crowd around a wife and husband pair with deep-black skin, like they spent all day in the sun. They were cooking with large metal plates suspended over a fire; the heat didn’t seem to affect them in the least. The crowd was speaking a different language to the other people Amaka had met, but she was able to understand it instantly.
‘What will it be?’ the husband enquired.
Name: O’Reginald Markman
Race: human
Genus: sapient
Affiliation: Hestia
Class: C
State: happy
Level: 33
Health unknown, stamina unknown, magicka unknown
Endowments: fire, unknown
Curses: unknown
‘It all smells so good,’ Amaka replied truthfully.
‘You speak Delingual? We’ve got belly, thigh, tongue, cutlet and BCBs.’ O’Reginald said, jiving as he spoke.
Amaka would come to learn he always jived when discussing food. ‘What’s BCB?’ Amaka asked.
‘Burned crunchy bits.’
‘I’ll have some of them, with devil’s chillies if you have them,’ Stirgar jumped in.
‘A Dimanche man? We’ve got none of them, good sir, but we do have pickled chilli; it’s heavenly good – or hella good to you.’
Dimanche was translated to Amaka as “Sunday”. ‘What’s a Sunday man?’ she asked.
‘The people of Baron Sunday; it’s an old myth, but I always liked the classics,’ O’Reginald declared.
‘It’s not just a myth, but I’m from a different sect,’ verified Stirgar.
‘I want a wrap with salad, please, mistress.’ Syeda said.
‘Amaka. And fine. May we have a wrap with all the trimmings and some BCBs with pickle?’ Amaka requested.
‘Nothing for yourself?’ O’Reginald asked.
‘May I have a wrap with just salad and some of that chilli; I’m not that hungry, but wouldn’t mind trying it.’
‘Sure you may,’ O’Reginald said, and he danced as he made the food.
‘Are you from around here?’ Amaka probed.
‘Yes and no. We came from Archipelago some thirty years back, and have not looked back – except during the winter.’
‘I don’t suppose you have a map? I haven’t been here for ages and I’ve lost all my maps, so now I struggle to make it out of bed without getting out on the wrong side.’
‘No maps, my man, but I heard there was a dude in Wentworth who is a bona fide cartographer who might be of help. Here you are,’ O’Reginald concluded, handing over the orders.
The bread was hot and freshly made, and the chilli was spicy but with an aftertaste of lemons, which sent the mouth into a kind of pleasure/pain overdrive; Amaka found she was salivating after just one bite.
*
When the sun set, a plethora of candles were lit, and the atmosphere of the hamlet changed. It was charged with a feeling of family and the feeling of days gone by. This was a festival of the past, Amaka had been told, whereas the spring festival was a festival of the future.
‘It’s Langtree by night!’ Syeda exclaimed, as though it meant something to Amaka.
‘Langtree?’ Amaka asked.
‘It means tall tree,’ Stirgar confirmed.
‘Why wasn’t that translated?’ Amaka queried.
‘Well, it’s an old word, but it’s not a foreign word, so why would it be translated?’ responded Stirgar.
The path led over a rickety-looking bridge, which creaked as they walked over it, and through a calm meadow until, eventually, they made it to the Langtree. It was indeed a tall tree; the branches had numerous lights placed on them, but spread out not clustered, so that it looked oddly superimposed onto the world, like it was standing in the forefront, and the rest of the world was just scenery.
After music and what sounded like an opera singer working through a few arias, they were led back to the hamlet where people would place candles in little cradles with coloured bags attached, and the candles would lift up like hot-air balloons. Music played, and peddlers were out in droves. Tables were placed along the outskirts of the hamlet and on each level of the broken castle. Urchins bustled from table to table, taking orders for food and collecting the meals for a small additional fee. It was kind of like the urchins were outsourced waiters working on behalf of all the different food stalls.
Amaka had bought a couple of thick fur coats, which were made from an animal that Amaka had been reassured had shed its skin like a spider, so it wasn’t a blood coat. When she made it to bed finally, she had piled up the eiderdown and coats, and then burrowed into them. The closeness and darkness of the pile reassured and comforted Amaka, as she felt too exposed when she tried to sleep normally.
She woke early, after having a nightmare about searching for tainted soul gems in dark mines, and when Amaka woke, she woke needing a wee. Ever since she was a child, she’d get a nightmare when she needed a wee. Unfortunately, the Sphere was still extremely backwards with respect to some things.
Socially speaking, things seemed progressive; she’d seen people of all colours mixing – even if there was a little animosity between different races – and same-sex couples walking around hand in hand. However, for all the progressive society, scientifically speaking, these people were animals. There was no hot water, no internal heating and no toilet! She had to do her business in a chamber pot, and it wasn’t a large one either. Without putting too fine a point on it, her aim needed to improve.
She washed her face with water left in the basin overnight; the water was cold and made her cry out a few times, and the cloth she used to wash the rest of her body with was coarse. She needed to find silk, wool or linen, and not just for the washcloth but also for the bedsheets and pillows.
Breakfast was a joke as well: cold stew. Was she scum to these people? Cold stew!
She exercised out the back of the tavern; there was a large, open space, and she couldn’t guess as to what use it was put to. After that, she washed again and checked for a clock; there wasn’t one and so she asked for the time. The answer she received was two hours past sunrise.
‘Is that early? What time do the shops open around here?’ Amaka enquired.
‘All the stalls will be open, but most of them will be gone today, so I shouldn’t dally if I were you,’ the chef or owner or waitress replied.
Amaka wasn’t sure of the girl’s job and had neglected to use her ability to get her name.
Next, Amaka returned to the room she’d shared with Syeda and watched the girl; she must have been a deep sleeper, as Amaka hadn’t exactly been quiet.
Amaka shook Syeda gently. ‘Wakey-wakey,’ Amaka said.
Syeda blinked, stretched, then rubbed her eyes. ‘Morning,’ she replied, bleary-eyed, and rolled out of bed.
‘So, today, it would be great if you could sell all the common and crap stuff Stirgar collected, and look out for some stuff for yourself,’ Amaka stated.
‘Got it; is there anything we should buy?’ Syeda asked as she washed, completely unselfconsciously.
‘I’ve no idea; I guess you could keep your eye out for good deals? I don’t know; you’ve got more experience at this than me, so use your initiative.’