Chapter 34 - Nothing for ale and food

“You understand the plans?” I asked Kril as we walked towards the Hatrik trade wagon. The other families had set off earlier in the morning but I had had many things to discuss with Kril and Trikilo before I could set out with the Hatrik caravan. I had been sad to learn I’d be leaving the pair behind but Hatrikos was staying back with his warriors to keep them safe and start training the rest of their men in the new techniques I’d drilled into my Fangs.

“How many times must I say I understand? I’ve studied in the great cities of the south! Yes, I fucking understand,” grumbled Kril. Trikilo was at a meeting with his brother to pitch the new training regime and the proposed chariots to his brother. The weight of his mace swung heavy on my hip. “The ‘prototype’ will be done before you return.”

“It would be better with metal rims on the wheels but if you use wet rawhide it will shrink and bind the wood well enough. It just won’t last as long,” I replied as I jumped up and caught the lip of the wagon. I flexed and lifted my head over the edge to peer inside. Why did they make their wagons so damn big when they were all so short?

Inside I saw the six tusks laid out neatly to one side. Clay jars full of the rendered mammoth fat, to be used as lamp oil by the city dwellers, lined the opposite side to balance the weight. The rest of it was filled with sacks of herbs and hides to sell to the shit-sitters in exchange for metal products and luxury items. I was optimistic this would be a bumper haul for the families I’d tied myself to as well as resulting in considerable personal wealth for yours truly. I dropped back down and grinned at Kril.

“I know how rawhide works as well,” he muttered. “Take care, Mond. The city folk at Gethanel are poor imitations of their cousins to the south but they’ll see you as a nomad and treat you like one of us.”

“It will be nice to be in a city again, Kril. I’m good at blending in there.”

“It's not a city, lad. It's a provincial shit hole. You’ll still tower over everyone and stick out like an upright prick at a wedding, boy. Jandak has done this before. I’ve told him to stick close to you.”

“Whose got the token? I asked.

“Hatrikandos is the official trader,” Kril replied. “Trikilo has had a word with him. He knows enough to do as he’s told.” I smiled. This was shaping up to be an excellent little adventure. I’d get rich, get some metals and finally get to see how the more “civilised” people of Urth lived. I held out a hand and Kril took it in a warriors clasp, gripping my forearm.

“Take care old man. I’ve got plans for you!” I smiled. He snorted and released my arm.

“Don’t fucking die, Mond. The traders' truce holds but not all of us come back from the cities. I want more magic stones as well, don’t scrimp at crafting them while on the road!” He smirked to take the sting out of his words and I nodded solemnly.

“Until next time,” I said and he nodded before spinning on his heel to bark insults at the rest of our escorts as he walked back towards town.

“He’s always been like that, don’t take it personally," said Jandak as he came round the corner of the wagon. “There’s someone else waiting to say farewell,” he beckoned me over and around the corner of the wagon I found three robed and hooded women. I knew who they were from the hazel rods tucked into their belts. Hermune stood behind them scowling at every blade of grass that waved in the wind.

“Ladies,” I nodded politely. What the hell was Jandak up to? We weren’t bringing them along again as far as I knew.

One of them pushed back her hood and stepped forward, Haylin's dark hair caught the sun. She was bathed and wearing clean clothes, a stark change from how she’d appeared just last evening. Haylin drew a knife and pricked her finger. One of the others passed her a simple strip of cloth bleached white. She pressed the drop of blood that had bloomed on her finger into the strip and passed it to Jandak. He grinned and tied it around his wrist so the crimson dot sat on the back of his arm and was clearly visible.

“Not sure it will be her first!” chuckled Hermant, Hermune’s second. Jandak shot him a fiery glare and the man lapsed into silence. Then Fayala pushed back her hood and stepped forward. She repeated the process and offered me the strip. I tied it around my wrist just as Jandak had .

“Safe travels, Vileslayer,” she said softly as her eyes twinkled in amusement.

The three women pulled their hoods back up and set off back to town. I watched them sway back past the palisade in confusion. None of the other men had moved either.

“Still thinking with the wrong spear, Mond?” laughed Jandak. “Now you’re pledged you’ll need to learn to keep your eyes in your head!”

“Pledged?” I barked in surprise.

“The blood,” Mune pointed at the red dot on my wrist, ”is a promise of her first blood.”

“What the hell would I want with her menstrual blood? And surely she’s already started?” I muttered. Fayala looked to be in her early twenties by my reckoning. The simple nature of these people still struck me sometimes despite how familiar I'd become with them.

“Not that blood!” laughed Jandak. “Her first blood!” he waggled his eyebrows at me and made crude thrusting motions with his hips.

“You mean…” I said quietly.

“Yes!” laughed Mant as he slapped me on the back. “You’ll be getting married soon, Urkendyn! Then you’ll truly be one of us!” I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about this situation. I needed these people and tying a powerful family to my cause appealed to the more calculating part of my mind but… Marrying a woman two thirds my age hadn’t been part of my plans. Hazel eyes flashed across my mind's eye and all I could think was that it could have been worse. A subtle warmth filled my chest. I hastily shelved the issue to be dealt with later.

Hatrikandos reminded me a lot of Kril but without the warm personality. The man was surly, complained constantly about his aches and pains, and was generally unpleasant to interact with. As we marched south, six aurox hauling the wagon with a steady rumble, I came to dislike any time I had to spend with him.

It took us a week to reach the town of Gethanel and I didn’t get time to do any trapping as we travelled. I was not impressed by what I saw when we reached the brow of a low hill and I caught my first sight of the place. It was surrounded by wooden walls two metres high and sat at the crest of a small rise with a river running around a third of it to the south. A city it most certainly was not. It looked like a large village from back home.

Even from a distance the river looked dirty and I resolved to get back into my habit of only drinking boiled water for the duration of our stay here. Across a rickety looking wooden bridge, fields stretched out as far as I could see. Farmers, then. That meant grains and grains meant bread and beer, or more likely ale. Perhaps I wouldn’t stick to just water. I acquired a spring in my step as we gradually grew closer to the gated entrance in the walls.

“What are you happy about?” called Hatrikandos from his seat at the front of the wagon. He didn’t drive the cattle, the warriors walking as escorts used the long flexible sticks as goads to guide the beasts. He just sat and barked orders.

“A little taste of civilisation would be an interesting change,” I replied.

“Spent time among the shit-sitters have ye?” he grumbled. “Makes sense.” He spat in my direction over the edge of the wagon seat. I quietly resolved to speak to Trikilo and his brother when we got back to ensure this old man could be gently forced into retirement.

We lapsed into silence as we crossed the final distance to the break in the wall. A pair of men wrapped head to toe in thick linens, bandages hiding all of their face bar their dull black eyes that stared out from the wrappings, waited outside the gate. As the wagon rolled to a stop and Hatrikandos climbed painfully down, complaining loudly all the while, a man in a simple blue tunic came out of the town to greet us.

“Chit.” His voice was flat with imperious command and I half expected Hatrikandos to slap away the hand the stranger had extended expectantly. Instead the old man bowed his head politely and unhooked the rectangle of bronze he wore hanging from a necklace to pass it over.

“Greetings my old friend!” Hatrikandos had switched from grumpy old bastard to insincere charming bastard in an instant. “Fine goods this year, Nahtin. How was the harvest?” Hatrikandos said as the man pressed the chit into a clay tablet. He examined the impression and nodded his satisfaction before passing the chit back to Hatrikandos.

“Well enough. You’ve got food on your wagon?” Nahtin asked.

“Not so much. Ivory and hides mostly with some of our wondrous herbs to sweeten any deals we make,” Hatrikandos replied happily. He actually sounded happy?

“Shame. The Lord's new tithes have cut deep. Three men other than you only. The laws have changed as well. You can pull up in the caravan area behind the gates as usual though. I would advise against wandering around,” Nahtin said curtly before pivoting and walking back through the gates without another word or glance.

“Are they always this friendly?” I asked Jandak.

“They’re arrogant pricks but this is outside of normal custom. We should be allowed six men inside plus the trader and I’ve never seen these bandaged men before. Or maybe I have? They’re wrapped up like babes in swaddling after all, can’t see their faces.” His voice had risen loud enough that the pair of gloomy men standing like statues on either side of the gate should have heard. If they did they gave no reaction and Jandak harrumphed.

“Hatrikandos. Myself, Mune and Mond will accompany you inside,” Jandak said. The old trader glared up at him but Jandak didn’t flinch, answering the sour expression in kind.

“Pah. Fine. The rest of you, go set up a camp and wait for us to complete our business,” he chuckled and rubbed his hands together.

As we passed through the gate the bandaged men didn’t turn or speak. I was impressed by their discipline, to be honest. They stood completely still, short thick staves of some dark wood held at their sides. I couldn’t tell even if they were breathing. They reminded me of the guards outside of palaces in Britain where they wouldn't move while on duty, just scruffier and smellier.

The sight that greeted me within the walls was disappointing. I had hoped for stone buildings and a bustling town. Maybe a bar or pub to get some drink and food after the travel rations we’d been subsisting on for a week. The town was composed of crude wooden structures, ramshackle things that looked as though a stiff wind might knock them down like dominoes. Muddy streets wound through the bone dry buildings and ragged looking people hurried around with their heads and eyes firmly aimed at their feet.

The smell became more noticeable once we had passed the gates. The stench of unwashed bodies mingled with shit, piss and smoke. The smell of cooking laid a sweeter note over the top of the miasma that failed to make it appealing, it seemed worse by contrast. Sewage systems and night soil collectors were clearly not something the citizens of Gethanel were aware of. It still smelt better than the lingering scent of rot that we had passed though between the gates.

“Jandak, get my weights. Mune and the stranger, unhitch the aurox and put them in the stables over there,” Hatrikandos waved a hand towards a series of wooden fences intended to house the animals. He tossed a small pouch he took from his belt to Mune. “There’s enough in there for feed, not enough for you to get drunk. I want the animals fed and watered, not you. Jandak, we’ll go see my old friend Patenys. He’ll know what the hell is going on here.”

Jandak had clambered up onto the wagon and jumped down with a leather pouch in his hand. He shrugged at Mune and I as he followed the truculent old man down a muddy street.

“What’s in there?” I asked, pointing to the pouch Mune had caught.

“Salt to pay for the feed and housing. It’s a trap, we have to pay them for the feed so they massively overcharge us. This will only cover a few days' shelter for the cattle,” he grumbled.

“So nothing for ale and food for us?” I asked.

“Nope. We’ll still be on jerky while Jandak and the miserable old bastard get fed at the merchant’s houses,” Mune sounded glum. I spent a Single Soul on a kilo of salt. Instead of appearing at my feet, I willed it to appear in the dimensional pocket I’d unlocked by reaching tier four and choosing the Space affinity. I scrambled into the cart and rooted through the stock until I found an empty pouch. I reached out and my hand seemed to vanish as I spent forty mana to access the storage space. I scooped handfuls of salt out until I’d filled the pouch.

“Not a problem! Let’s go get a drink and chat with the locals!” I said waving the newly filled pouch at Mune.

“We need to settle the aurox first,” muttered Mune, unable to understand my suddenly upbeat mood. “Where the hell are the peasants?”