Khelen had found Leoman's water barrel by the time Simian worked up enough courage to come out. He was splashing himself on the face, cleaning himself off. They stood at the crest of a tall hill overlooking a forest of tree and fungus which could only be Sharodyne. Blue morels the size of houses grew as neighbors to golden filox. Simian had heard of this place, always wanted to visit, but the beauty of the forest was tainted by the fresh horror and by the lingering smell of cooked flesh. When Khelen saw him, he stopped scrubbing his scalp and face then faced him, slowly unbuttoning the scorched shirt on his chest. A breeze from the forest rushed at them, tugging at the shirt as Khelen turned around and let it fall away. His pale flesh, tattooed with black markings, seemed to glow in the sunlight, which in turn made the thing on his back more hideous by comparison. Its black segments made it look as if some sort of insect had burrowed into the man's spine and was feasting on his neck. He had of course seen the strange holes in the man's temples, but nothing could have prepared him for this sight.
“I am from another world.” Khelen turned to him bare-chested, grotesque holes in his upper arm. “I am not...'Kel'. My 'fear response' is to...become dangerous.” He grabbed the strange garment Leoman had been hoarding, thrust his arms in the sleeves and threw it around his back. Hooks in the garment automatically impaled a series of sockets along the side of the strange carapace as if biting into the man's back. Then thousands of gray-black hairlike threads weaved some sort of mesh over it. Simian knew part of him should be amazed at the magic he was witnessing but his mind was too fresh with Leoman's screams.
“Do you...do you have any respect for life?!” he bellowed, “Did you have to go do...did you have to go do that?!”
“Kel are ‘soft’, ‘docile’.” he said, “Leoman’s death...brutal. Deflects suspicion. Nobody will think Kel did it. That is why I cut him into pieces.”
When Simian heard Khelen use the word “pieces”, he braced an arm against the carriage and wretched for a second time. But since he had already spilled the contents of his gut earlier, only a few strings of bile came out. When he recovered enough to speak, his words were filled with sick and tears. “Even so...” he said, “You could have...made it quick. Then...you could have...” Simian could not bring himself to talk about the lyosh's evisceration.
Khelen remained silent as he rummaged through Leoman's belongings, “What I did,” he finally said, “was logical.” He continued to dig through Leoman's supplies until he found food. He grabbed a few strips of pincewelve jerky, sniffed them and began to eat ravenously.
“We...we should go.” Simian said solemnly, not knowing what to think, “Before somebody comes along and...sees.”
“Do you know where we are?” Khelen asked, “Or where we should go?”
“This is Sharodyne forest.” Simian said, “But until I see a map, I won't be sure. I know Leoman...carried several of them with him. But right now, we need to go and get out of here. Get far away from here before somebody comes and finds...before they find us. We need to camp far from any roads and decide what to do.”
“I will ride in back.” Khelen said, “I don’t like the sky.”
He doesn’t like the sky? Simian thought.
“I don't think you can get in it.” he said, “Leoman kept babbling about how only he and a lord could open it. He built it and Lord U'shal imbued it with some sort of magic. That way, there was no chance of a prisoner breaking free. Just use the wagon he was towing. It has a skin on it.”
“How did he open it?” Khelen asked, stubbornly feeling around the exterior of the carriage, “Key? Interface?”
“It has no key.” Simian said, “I told you. He wanted it to be proof against escaping. There was no key to steal. It just opened wherever he slapped it.”
Khelen blinked at him and grunted. “I will take care of it. You control the animals.” He turned around, walked back to the wagon and hopped into it. Good, that meant he would not spend all day trying to circumvent Lord U'shal's magics. Simian went to the front of the carriage and pulled himself up. Having something to do helped take his mind off Leoman's fate and he dare not look back at the man's corpse.
The Lyosh kept several maps in a bag under the seat of the carriage. Simian took one out and unrolled it, scanning it until he found Sharodyne. The man's next stop was...well, would have been Thigron, which would have taken him into more populated roads since Thigron was a merchant town. Looks like Leoman was planning to cut through Sharodyne, then he most likely would have turned left at Tuliki River and followed it to Marel Pass, then he would have traveled through Wippit Glade and arrived at Thigron. It would have been the longest stretch of his trip so far, due to the awkward twists and turns of Wippit Glade and Marel Pass. They would have prolonged his pace. But that was good. That meant Lord U'shal probably did not expect Leoman to arrive at Thigron for another day at least, maybe two. That was assuming nobody found...oh dear, they needed to hide Leoman's body.
Stupid! Stupid! They could not leave his corpse right next to the road! Nobody would expect Kel but they would certainly be looking for a murderer! And when Lord U'shal heard about Leoman's fate, he would send out word to everybody in the region telling them exactly what to look for! The wargs were even painted with the lord's colors! Simian felt nauseated at what they had to do.
“H-hey!” he called. What was the man’s name? “Khelen!” A few moments later the man appeared, “We...cannot leave...” Simian could not believe he was considering this, “We can't leave Leoman back there. We need to hide him. If somebody finds him, it would not matter if they suspected Kel or not. Lord U'shal would give them descriptions of this carriage.”
“I know.” Khelen said, “I thought of it. I am taking care of it.”
“You are...” Simian stopped as Khelen gave him a strange look. “I...actually don't want to know. Just let me know when you are done. We can't stay here.” I can't stay here. “I will keep looking at Leoman's maps. I think...if we simply camp far enough away from any roads, we will have time to plan.”
Khelen left him as Simian continued to consult the maps. As he scanned the possible routes they could take, his eyes kept coming back to Theola Forest. It met most of their needs, the trees were dense, the ground did not take to tracks, but the only problem was that it was...well, it was Theola Forest, otherwise known as one of the great “corpse forests”. It was inhabited by several varieties of “gripper” trees. But perhaps they would be safe in there. The weather was beginning to cool and grippers usually began to go dormant around this time of the season. Furthermore, there were no major roads, no major towns near Theola Forest. Nobody would be able to stand living near it, especially during the active seasons. Yes, they could risk it but they would have to-
Simian's thoughts were interrupted when there came a loud thump from the carriage. Then there followed a second thump. What in the-
“I am ready.” Khelen's voice came from the grate above Simian's head. Simian put down the map and stood up to see the man peering out from inside the “bone tickler”.
“What...how did you do it?” Simian asked, “Were you able to use your...'abilities' to open it?”
“I took a key off of Leoman's body.” Khelen said.
“I told you, Leoman did not have a key!” Simian insisted, “He slapped the sides and it opened.”
“Yes.” Khelen blinked, “It's as I said: I took a key off of Leoman's body.”
“But-” Simian stopped and then groaned as he understood what Khelen was saying. He turned around and let his back slide down into the seat. He consulted the map briefly one more time, focusing on its topography rather than the implications behind Khelen's words, then picked the reins. His bruised arms screamed with protest as he slapped them down. But the wargs stood up, shook their carapaces and began to move forward, their legs traveling in waves. Days of battering had trained his senses to expect pain but the cushions kept the ride smooth. The bastard Lyosh had, of course, been riding in comfort while Simian suffered. Still...he could not ever think anything could convince him that Leoman deserved his fate.
He did not expect sleep tonight even though every limb in his body seemed to beg for it. What creature could do that to another person? What if Khelen turned that viciousness on him? At first, he had been afraid for the man's life. From the moment he woke up, Simian thought he showed a strange, almost naive innocence to his questions. But from the moment Khelen uttered his threats to Leoman, Simian knew something was wrong. Though the man spoke with a strange inflection, there had been no reticence to his to his words, to his intention. Something had simply felt “off”. What I did...was logical. A Kel, methodically planning...brutality. It was evil.
Simian also had never seen anybody move like that, it was almost a dance, almost graceful...until the moment Khelen went on the offensive. Simian was no fighter, but he had seen guards spar before. None of them moved like that. But then he remembered the man's face and he shuddered. It had been bestial. There was no logic in a face like that. Fortunately, the ride seemed to calm his nerves and distract him from the slaughter he had witnessed earlier. He could almost appreciate the beauty of Sharodyne's blue morels...almost.
They left Sharodyne and spent the day traveling south along a “colored” road, named for the colors it used on its markers in the place of actual names. The colors of this one were purple with two yellow stripes. As the map indicated, Theola forest was not too far. However, the sky was already beginning to turn orange when Simian caught the first subtle whiff of the corpse forest. To think that he could smell it already from here. It was the subtle stench of putrefaction and rot. This was why nobody would want to live near Theola Forest, why nobody would venture near it while it was still active. Well, that and it could kill you if you were careless. They were still a few miles off when he saw stone signs warning travelers to take extreme caution and he saw a few small grippers saplings, though he wasn't sure what species they were. They had not yet grown large enough to sprout snares, so they still looked innocent.
The purple/yellow-striped road began to erode, giving away to overgrown vegetation and potholes. Of course, who would maintain a passage that nobody used? The only time anybody came to corpse forests were during the frosts, when the bones of hapless beasts could be safely collected from the dormant grippers. Only a fool would venture into one when the trees were still active.
“Well, I guess I am a fool then.” Simian murmured to himself. A fool to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, to get locked up for a treason he did not commit, and a fool for doing whatever it was he was doing. Simian slowed the wargs so he wouldn't batter his passenger. However, it was too late. Khelen must have been aroused by the clatter because Simian heard him moving around. A moment later, he spoke from the grating.
“Your sky...it is orange?” he asked, his voice reverberating through the chamber, “Is that...does that happen often?”
“...yes?” Simian hedged. How was he supposed to respond to such a question? “It does that when the sun is close to setting.”
“Why?” Khelen asked.
“Grab a wulup's tail, boy! You are asking the wrong man.” Simian said, “I am just a hunter and tanner! I have no bloody idea why the sky does that when the sun sets, it just does!”
“What is that smell?” Khelen asked.
“That...is Theola Forest, where we will be camping tonight.” Simian said, spotting a few adolescent grippers clustered together on a hilltop. Their trunks and branches glistened with primed snares. So, not completely dormant yet. “It is infested with several varieties of carnivorous trees called 'grippers'. That smell is the smell of a thousand carcasses rotting. Birds, vermin, beasts, they're all food to these trees. Just be thankful we aren't coming during its prime season. Ugh...it is awful.”
“Carniverous trees?” Simian wasn’t sure whether Khelen was asking a question or making an observation.
“It will be easier to show you than explain it.” he said, “I think we will be stopping soon before it becomes too dense. I have seen grippers rip the covers right off of wagons like the kind we're towing. And they just make an outright mess. ” Already the grippers were appearing in larger, denser clusters like an encroaching army. Their purple trunks and branches arose from the ground like fingers and were covered with thousands and thousands of thin whip-like appendages, some an arm's length, others the length of a small child. It was easy to distinguish the dormant ones from the active. Dormant grippers allowed these appendages to slouch, whereas the active ones were erect and covered in a fine glistening resin. It it had not been for the numerous corpses entangled within their snares, grippers could actually be quite pretty. But the varying shades of purple, blue, and turquoise were just a lure.
They neared a specimen which managed to catch a pincewelve. Simian thought it was dead until they began to pass it, but then the wargs' clattering awoke the beast and it began to shriek pathetically. It was so badly entangled in the gripper's grasp that it could only manage a slight shift. The snares strengthened their hold and more of them began to curl silently toward the helpless animal. That was another reason nobody wanted to be around during an active season. The forest was filled with the sounds of death, the cries of bound animals who were slowly choked and digested by the grippers' enzymes. Simian stopped briefly so he could put the poor animal out of its misery, its cries reminded him of Leoman. Then he proceeded with great caution to move further into the forest. When he came upon an alcove with a grouping of dormant specimens, he decided not to test his luck and brought the carriage to a stop before he risked going further and getting the carriage stuck.
“We'll be camping here tonight.” Simian said. He heard Khelen exit the carriage and waited for him to hide his “key” before he locked the brakes and descended. “Hey! Hey! Stop!!!” he snapped as Khelen walked over to inspect the only active gripper at the site. Its pale sparkling snares swayed several feet from the trunk, making it appear as an indistinct violet core in the mess of tendrils. “Don't touch that! I know it looks pretty but that one is ready to feed! Here, watch!” Simian looked around on the ground until he found a fairly large animal bone, an old rib larger than his leg. Belonged to a pelmont, most likely. He hoisted it with both of his arms and heaved it toward the gripper. The bone struck the snares and stuck to them, sinking slightly.
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“Just wait.” Simian said... “Watch.”
Several adjacent snares began to stir almost imperceptibly. In fact, one could almost be convinced that they were simply swaying from an unfelt gust of wind. But the more one looked, the more one noticed these appendages appeared to “sway” closer to the bone that bobbed among them, as if slowly leaning in to sate their curiosity. The neighbors of these appendages also moved as if being dragged along by their curious friends.
“We should step back.” Simian said, “I believe this specimen is a Trymond's Comb. They can get rather 'excited' when you feed them.”
The snares began to embrace the bone and pull it toward its core, the movements awakening more of the glistening appendages. As more leaned in, they began to move faster and faster, wrapping around the bone, cocooning it, hastening as a ripple spread among the snares, a ring of awareness that awoke the tendrils from their somnolence. Soon the air was rustling with their movements. As the ripple spread, the tendrils came to life and practically whipped toward the unseen bone with ravenous frenzy. The entire tree shook with the force of the thrashing. Simian could feel the wind from all the limbs as they closed around their lifeless prey.
“That...” he said, “is how they feed. Grippers trap animals in their snares then they either starve to death or choke to death before they are broken apart and digested. Trymond's Combs like this one here are some of the most aggressive and most dangerous specimens. They have been known to kill people.” By now, the tree looked as though somebody had gouged out a significant section from its mass of tendrils. “The things are a mess.” he added, “Grippers in general, I mean. You get the resin on your clothes, you can never it off. it gets stuck to everything. Carriages,” he gestured to bone tickler “get their wheels stuck in them or have their covers ripped off by the resin, or everything just gets covered in their gunk! My best friend learned that the hard way when he was first starting out as a traveling merchant.” Simian chuckled, despite himself. He was a mixture of tired emotions.
“The caravan he joined makes frequent trips through another corpse forest further East.” he continued, going into what his son would refer to as an 'old man' story, “And they told him, he needed to get rid of the husk wagon he had and get one with a removable top. Otherwise, the grippers would try to 'steal' his wagon. I guess the specimens there have more overhead branches there than these, I don't know. I have not been. But my friend is an 'I can do anything I want' kind of guy and he decides to ignore their advice and keep his wagon.”
“He-” Simian began to laugh, though it hurt his bruises, “He said...the moment they went into the forest, the top of his husk wagon brushed against an overhead branch and broke it right off. Instead of falling to the ground like a normal branch would, it just remained stuck to his roof! Instead of stopping like a sensible person and trying to pry it off, he just kept...just kept on going. And of course, he snagged another branch...and another.” Simian began to snicker, “And they just kept piling up until finally, he...he said he snagged one so large, it just stopped him. No matter how hard his wargs pulled, the gripper would not let go of his wagon! Finally, he decided to do something about it. He said he had to buy his neighbor's entire stock of ren spirits and splash the whole roof with it to dissolve the resin and make the branch let go. But even then, even after he got his wagon freed, he still had a whole bunch of branches stuck to his roof. And it just kept collecting a bunch of junk as it traveled through the woods! He said he eventually did make it to the city where his caravan was selling, but nobody would come near his wagon because the entire thing smelled like a corpse, and it was just covered, absolutely covered in resin, twigs, branches, rotting animal carcasses, feathers, and a...and a bell!”
Tears filled Simian's eyes and he began to howl as he recalled Toben's words, “And he...he said...'I have no idea where the bell even came from!'”
He exploded in an agonized, uncontrollable fit of guffawing. Oh, it felt good to laugh! Even though he only spent a few trels in captivity, it felt like months. He needed this, he needed to forget even if it were brief, everything that had happened. All he wanted to think about was the look on Toben's baffled face as he told that stupid story. He remembered almost passing out the first time he heard it. It was a good memory and it made him yearn all the more for his home, to get back to his wife, see his son and grandkids. He yearned to see their young faces and forget the horrors he had witnessed. But the thought of his family made him sick with worry. Leoman had said nothing about any of them being arrested by being associated with him, so that was a good sign. The creature would have used such information to torment him.
“Anyway...” he noticed Khelen wasn't laughing but had a rather off-putting grin. Shuddering, he pointed to the bone he had tossed, which was now completely cocooned in a mass of snares. “Be careful around those. If you see any trees where their snares are just drooping and dry, those are safe, they might twitch a little. But don't go touching any that are still erect and covered in resin.”
“I see.” Khelen said, “The resin must use enzymes to break down organic matter, which is then absorbed and metabolized. How fast does this happen?”
“A trel, maybe two. Depends on the prey. They won't let go until they strip you to the bone.” Simian said, “Another reason to hate grippers. If you get any of that stuff on you, you will itch for an entire trel!”
“Trel?” Khelen repeated, “How many days is a trel?”
“Eight.” Simian shook his head at the man's bizarre questions, “But it'll have your skin stripped blistering in only a few days.”
Khelen left before Simian could ask him where he was doing.
Shaking his head, he began to set up the camp. He used another animal bone to dig a small fire pit in the middle of the glade and began to collect various pieces of twigs and discarded gripper limbs to use as tinder. Dozens of rodent bones dropped from the branches as he broke the branches into usable pieces. The withered snares made great kindling, so it only took a few strikes from Leoman's sparker to get it started. Soon, a rather pleasant aroma began to fill the camp. It was truly ironic that a species known for its stench and voracious appetite emitted a sweet floral scent as it burned, so much so that some species were valued highly as ingredients for their use in incense. Simian wish he remembered which species those were. Perhaps he would collect a few limbs and bring them home. Yes...he needed to think about these things and forget Leoman's thrashing. As the fire grew, he tossed bigger pieces onto it all while trying to avoid being reminded of the lyosh's inferno.
Where had Khelen gone to? He had seen the man return a few times to grab some filled bags from the wagon, but then he disappeared into the woods and had been gone for a while. Simian was grateful for the time to think about what his next steps were, but now he began to grow concerned about Khelen's absence. He was about to go out looking for him when he saw the pale man returning.
“I was getting worried.” Simian said, “Thought you might have gotten yourself snared. What have you been doing?”
“I was feeding the gripper trees.” he said.
“Feeding them?” Simian inquired, “That's what you were doing this whole time? I have had enough time to re-stoke this fire twice!”
Instead of explaining why he spent such a long time feeding grippers, Khelen came up to the fire and sat down, the flames dancing in his dark gaze. He had changed into a set of pants whose material represented that which formed his shirt. And his boots seemed to be of a polished black alloy. That could not have been comfortable, wearing shoes so heavy.
“Well,” Simian began, feeling “I don't even know where to start. I promised I would be your guide, whatever that means, or give you a place to stay if you broke us out. I honestly thought you were either telling some sort of joke or you were deluded. I don't think I can be grateful until I know for sure how much trouble we are both in. But I try to keep my promises even though what you did...” he shuddered, “it will...stay with me for the rest of my life. I'll be honest, what you did scares the crud out of me. If we are going to travel with each other, we need to introduce ourselves more properly.”
He massaged his temples before continuing, “My name's Simian Kedrel, hunter, tanner and leathersmith by trade. Occasionally I dabble in a little bit of carpentry.” He waited for Khelen to respond. The man’s eyes were like voids. He remained silent., “I live further south with my wife where we share a plot of land with my son, his wife, and my two grandchildren.” He continued, “I came up to Entu Province to hunt some yuelings. But I matched the description of some heretic who I guess uttered some sort of treason against the lords, something about Sacrin weeping, I forget. I was held captive, handed over to Leoman, and I've been 'traveling' with him for a while until you...well, until today. That's the shorthand for my story. Now, let's hear yours and why exactly you need a 'guide' when you can do the things that you can do. You said you were from 'another world? How did you get here?”
“You...you believe me?” Khelen almost sounded surprised.
Simian massaged his forehead, “The way I see it, you are either from another world or you are some strange creation of the lords. I honestly can't tell which is more improbable. And this may sound strange, but I have too many things on my mind to even be amazed. So...who are you, what did you do before you came here, and how did you even arrive? Just give me an idea of who you are. And...are you...dangerous to me?”
“Khelen...” he began, “My name is Khelen. I've had...several jobs...careers. Never owned a home. Moved from place to place...as needed.”
“Any...family?” Simian gestured. Khelen had gone silent.
“Family?” he asked, “No. I wasn't commissioned into one. My focus was to be an enforcer for House Duleron, who commissioned my birth along with twenty others. But Duleron was dismantled while I was still a prenom. Since prenoms are still property, I, and the others were chosen for decommissioning. But I-”
“Whoa, hold on..” Simian interjected, “Wait, hold on, go back. What do you mean 'you weren't commissioned' into a family? And what do you mean 'commissioned your birth?'”
Khelen seemed confused by Simian's befuddlement. “I don't...know how else to phrase it.” he said, “My people were experts in the knowledge of...inherited traits.” he paused for a second, “We could grow new births in artificial wombs and select what traits they inherited. The batch I belonged to were commissioned with a focus on high reflexes, physical strength, high spatial awareness, and a knack for tactical thinking. But we were contraband. Unlicensed combat births were prohibited. Therefore, when House Duleron were discovered to have commissioned us, they were dismantled and we were chosen for decommissioning. I...” Khelen paused as he looked at Simian, “I am upsetting you?”
Simian had been massaging his temples when Khelen stopped. “Upsetting me? Why no!” he said, “I mean...you tortured Leoman, you have that thing in your back, you...you said your people have lore that...I...I cannot even begin! There is so much wrong with the things you are saying, I cannot even begin..I mean...gah! Let's just skip to the part where you came to Sacrin. Can you tell me how you did that?”
“Not sure.” Khelen began. When he spoke, he spoke as if words were burdens to his mouth, “I have...'conjectures', three possibilities I keep coming back to and they are these: cyatic insertion, sabotage, or malfunction. The first...as I understand it, is a hypothesis stating that one can take a living object and find a means to insert it into a cyatic band, or...'gaps' as your ardents call them. It is the opposite of what current cyatic technology does: interacting with cyatics to transform them into physical objects. We can store some basic objects using cyatics, but nothing complex and nothing organic. There are experts who think such a breakthrough could be used to teleport people and food long distances. Insert a person into a cyatic band, they instantly somewhere else. I don't remember the immediate days preceding my arrival. But perhaps...some phenomenon, natural or created, caused me to traverse a cyatic band connecting Scrul to Sacrin. Only a guess.”
“The second and third possible causes are similar to each other.” he continued, “The device in my back could be malfunctioning. I did a self-diagnostic which appeared to out-rule this possibility, or it could have been sabotaged. If the latter is the case, then any self-diagnostic could have been 'tricked'. Your world could be software”
“Software?” Simian repeated.
“Think of it as a 'dream' that was forced on me. Your world is a 'dream' that my cypher is playing to me. I have enemies...who would...humiliate me like this, turn me into a defect. The fact that my translator translates your language as thoroughly as it does, supports both of these hypothesis. All spoken languages on my world share many roots. The translator on my cypher, when it hears an unknown language, 'searches' through all the languages it does know, compares their roots. From that data and from situational context, it can extrapolate meanings. But...if I am on another world, there should be no shared roots between your spoken word, and the languages on Scrul. Therefore, it should not be able to translate as it does. This leads me to wonder if this is sabotage. However...I should think no amount of sabotage should prevent me from detecting the feed. The feed is-”
“Okay, that is enough.” Simian said, “If you speak anymore, I'll become so confused, I'll forget what I was going to ask you next and that is this: what does being your guide or host entail, and how long do you expect me to do it? And...I guess what it is that you were wanting to do?”
“Don’t know.” Khelen's eyes seemed to shift abruptly from a look of concentration to a hint of fear and wonder, “On Scrul, we do not have a 'sun'. The sky does not change color, even when a flotilla of canopy drifters pass through it. Your people...though we appear to be of the same...or similar species, are very different from mine. We have grown up with cyphers in our bodies. Speaking like this...shaping noises with our mouths, is an...'archaic' method of communication. I am not used to it. Your world is strange. I want to know what threatens me here. As for what I want to do, I don't...know yet. I plan to repair my machine, then make some modifications to it, assuming I can find viable resources to do it.”
“So you are lost, is what you're saying.” Simian hedged.
“Yes”.
“Fair enough, here's the thing though.” Simian looked Khelen straight in the eyes across the fire, “You scare me. If that isn't obvious by now, I don't know...well, I don't know what to say. What you did to Leoman, the things you said...damn, even the way you talk unsettles me! But I made you a promise and I plan to keep it. I owe you my life. However...since you have no places you were wanting to go, I plan on getting back home to my family as soon as we figure out what the hell to do with Leoman's carriage. Moon's eyes, we are fugitives! If two Kel go driving a piece of lyosh craft into town, they will wonder who in the heck we are! We need to find some way to tether Leoman's wargs to the wagon, then find a place to dump the carriage or just simply leave it behind here.” Simian's own words terrified him.
“I...would rather keep...the carriage.” Khelen said. “It would be a good place to store my wall-rider and repair it. ”
“No...we cannot keep it. Weren't you listening?” Simian said, “Lyosh metalwork is the absolute best there is. If we go driving that thing into some town, people will think we are royalty! Word will spread.”
“Can you...tell me about 'Favored'?” Khelen asked, “In Inshod, they thought I was impersonating a 'Favored' of a Nikral.”
“What? Why?” Simian spat, “What does that have to do with our situation?”
“I wish to impersonate a 'Favored' of a Nikral.” Khelen had a hint of humor to his voice.
“Again...why?” Simian could not believe what he just heard.
“I learned that a 'Favored' is highly respected. If you give me the name of a distant Nikral, I can pretend to be that person's 'Favored'. If somebody spots us, I will tell them who I am. I have the...'lore' to prove it. If you taught me to how to control the wargs, I could drive by night where fewer people will see us. If somebody spots us, I will tell them...I have been sent on secret 'business'. I will forbid them to speak of my appearance. Word will not get back to any lord of an unknown 'Favored'. But...I don't know how much authority 'Favored' actually have, I lack information. This plan was formulated on solely on my observations.”
“It...it would work.” Simian groaned. Though he still had plenty of life left, he was beginning to feel too old for this kind of chicanery. The plan was ingenious, no doubt. He could not believe Khelen thought it up on the spot. “Favoreds are what all ardents strive to be. To question a Favored is to question the lord who selected them. But that is absolutely insane! Do you have ANY idea how much trouble we would be in if we were caught impersonating a Favored?!”
“They were going to kill you.” Khelen said, “And do the same to me. You have nothing to lose.”
“I have my family to lose!!” Simian shouted, “You think they would be satisfied with my death if we were caught doing this?!”
“Say I forced you. Six Kel can attest that there is...precedent for such behavior. You can say I killed Leoman, then I threatened to kill you if you did not help me. If they don't believe your story, you can tell them where to find Leoman's bones and armor. According to your information about the trees in this forest, both should still be intact when they search for them.”
“But this afternoon before we left, you said you were taking care of Leoman's...” Simian froze as he recalled the words Khelen uttered moments earlier: I was feeding the gripper trees. He buried his face in his palms and groaned. Khelen had been taking care of Leoman's body. But now the task was done.