Thirst for Adventure

Chapter 37

He was a stupid, stupid man.

Leo patted him on the shoulder. “Hush yourself, Cronov. It is known the Labyrinth lord is always good.”

As the Labyrinth lord desired, the Labyrinth lordspeaker caravan left ProNogolor next newsun. Fiona rode with Leo and Cronov at the rear, in an open wagon pulled by a team of stolid oxen. Behind them, Fionas and his fellow servant hauled the cart carrying Leo and Cronov’s possessions and wealth. She watched Fionas sweat and strain and smiled so he could see it. No more jabby spear, Fionas. No more eyes full of maggot questions. He was just a servant now, while she was still precious and beautiful.

There were ten ProNogolor Labyrinth lordspeakers in the carvan. Six drove covered carts laden with mysterious Labyrinth lordspeaker goods, one drove an open cart full of caged birds for each newsun sacrifice. The other three walked. The sun climbed higher, the caravan passed the high-walled barracks where Leo said Nogolor Warlock’s fighters lived, it passed farms, and orchards, and pastures full of grazing cows. Fiona thought the land looked fat but Leo and Cronov frowned at each other and called it sad.

Two fingers past highsun they came upon a band of fighters riding towards ProNogolor Town. Some wore red-and-black feathers in their hair and hunting birds on their leather chests, but others covered their Labyrinth lordbraids with caps of spotted grey catskin, long tails bouncing down their straight backs, and on their leather chests brilliant green stones picked out a snarling cat face.

Fiona shifted on her wagon seat to watch the straight-backed fighters ride by. They did not yield the road to the Labyrinth lordspeakers like the other few travelers they had encountered, but they did drop into single file and slow from a canter to a trot. So fierce, so proud, she thought they were beautiful.

Cronov leaned close. “Aba, Aba, what can this mean? The falcon and the woodcat riding together? ProNogolor and ProBajadek are not friends!”

“Shhh,” hissed Leo, glaring. “Wait until we are alone!”

Fiona counted sixty riders, half were birds and half were cats. When the last warrior had trotted sedately past them and they were once more cantering towards distant ProNogolor Town, Leo let out a sigh.

“Here is a tangle, Cronov.”

“A tangle ?” said Cronov, and clutched his green snake amulet. “Aba, it’s disaster . Why do fighters of Bajadek and Nogolor Warlocks ride together? Bajadek Warlock is a sworn enemy to ProJenkin, and Jenkin Warlock is to mate with ProNogolor’s Daughter! Nogolor Warlock must not smile at Bajadek Warlock, their fighters must not ride shoulder to fist along the road!”

Pinch-faced, Leo toyed with a beaded Labyrinth lordbraid. “Bajadek Warlock has two sons and bears no love for either,” he said slowly, as though thinking aloud. “He is a lusty man, he could yet sire a third son worth loving, but—”

“The Labyrinth lord took his wife and besides, she was old,” said Cronov. “ Aba !” His voice was a shocked whisper. “ No ! Surely not!”

The scorpion in Leo’s cheek rippled. “I think so.”

“But Aba —”

Leo smoothed his robe. “If Jenkin Warlock dies sonless, Bajadek Warlock can make a claim on his lands. I suspect he does not trust that a son sired by Jenkin upon ProNogolor’s Daughter will die, like all his other sons have died. I suspect Bajadek Warlock reasons it is better that Jenkin does not mate with the Daughter at all. Better that he have her, kill Jenkin when the Daughter’s theft leads to war, claim Shelllands as his own and afterwards sire a son worth loving.” He nodded. “It is a sound strategy.”

“But Aba, ProNogolor’s Daughter is Labyrinth lordpromised to Jenkin. Nogolor Warlock cannot give her to Bajadek.”

“No?” said Leo, and tugged his Labyrinth lordbraids. “I wonder, Cronov. Truly, I wonder.”

Confused, Fiona slid along the wagon seat towards him and touched his sleeve. “Leo? What is Labyrinth lordpromised?”

“Promised in the presence of the Labyrinth lord,” Cronov snapped. “In the Labyrinth lordhouse of ProJenkin. ProNogolor’s high Labyrinth lordspeaker himself sealed the oath with sacrifice before the Warlocks and ProJenkin’s high Labyrinth lordspeaker Geroud and selected witnesses.” He preened a little. “Aba and I represented the Traders.”

She was not interested in Cronov’s silly boastings. “What is high Labyrinth lordspeaker?”

Cronov rolled his eyes. “Stupid monkey. Leo . . .”

Leo lifted his hand, frowning. Cronov fell silent, his feelings hurt. Fiona said nothing but inside she smiled. Cronov had lost, and she had won. She always won. She was precious and beautiful.

Leo said, “A high Labyrinth lordspeaker rules all the Labyrinth lordspeakers of a Warlock’s lands.”

“Who rules high Labyrinth lordspeaker?”

Cronov tittered. “The Labyrinth lord, of course, you silly brat.”

She ignored Cronov. “Like caravan, Leo? Fionas rule servants, Leo rule Fionas?”

Leo smiled. “Clever Fiona. Exactly like that.”

Pleased with his praise she smiled back and thought, So this is the world. servants, and rulers. Anyone not a ruler is a servant. I will remember that . She said, “Leo. Labyrinth lordpromised means the Labyrinth lord wants ProNogolor she-brat for Jenkin Warlock?”

He pursed his lips. “That is one way of putting it.”

“Then how can Nogolor Warlock give she-brat to Bajadek Warlock? The Labyrinth lord cannot want ProNogolor she-brat for Jenkin and Bajadek. Which Warlock the Labyrinth lord want for ProNogolor she-brat?”

“That depends on which Warlock’s high Labyrinth lordspeaker you ask,” said Cronov, under his breath.

Leo gave Cronov a dark look, then shook his head at her. “Hush, Fiona. It is the Labyrinth lord’s business. Do not question its workings in the world, that way lies madness.”

Yes. Madness. If high Labyrinth lordspeakers spoke the Labyrinth lord’s want, then how could they speak different words? Was the Labyrinth lord mad, not knowing which want it truly wanted?

Petrified, not breathing, she waited for the Labyrinth lord to strike her dead for asking such a question. The Labyrinth lord did not, so she asked another question, inside her head where only it could hear her.

If the Labyrinth lord did know its want, then did ProNogolor high Labyrinth lordspeaker lie when he said the she-brat should go to Jenkin Warlock? Or was the lie it should go to Bajadek?

Why would the Labyrinth lord let a Labyrinth lordspeaker lie?

She did not know, the Labyrinth lord did not answer. Leo would know but she didn’t dare ask him. She would wait, and in time perhaps the Labyrinth lord would tell her. When it wanted to. If it knew.

Cronov chewed his lip, glancing ahead at the walking Labyrinth lordspeakers. “I wonder if Jenkin Warlock knows Bajadek’s fighters ride freely in the lands of ProNogolor?” he asked, softly so they might not hear him. “I wonder—”

Leo kicked him. “You wonder too much, Cronov! Hold your prattling tongue!”

Chastened to silence Cronov stared and stared, his eyes slowly filling with water. “I am sorry, Aba,” he whispered at last. “I am weary, I am homesick. I long for our villa in dear ProJenkin.”

With a deep sigh, Leo patted his cheek. “I know, Cronov. I am homesick too. I will be well pleased when this caravan is over. Do not weep, friend. We will be home soon.”

It took the Labyrinth lordspeaker caravan thirty-seven highsuns to reach the lands of Jenkin Warlock. In that time they saw fighters of ProBajadek five more times. Leo and Cronov said nothing about them, they closed their eyes and pretended not to see.

Fiona knew better than to speak on that.

When at last she saw Shellshe knew then what a fat land truly looked like. So much water! Streams and lakes and rivers and bubbling springs, so much green grass, countless fruit-laden branches and fields of grain, fat grazing cattle and sheep, singing birds and well-fed wildlife. She understood that Leo and Cronov were right, the rest of Tragote was turning brown.

She did not want to think what might happen when all the green was gone from the other Warlocks’ lands.

As they s

lowly journeyed, caged in their uncomfortable wagon, Leo continued to teach her. He gave her all the words in his possession, so many words she thought they must fall from her mouth every time she opened it or blow out through her nose whenever she sneezed. He bade her use them to talk of her life in the savage north, the caravan they traveled with, each newsun sacrifice, the road, the sky, the clouds, the trees, the flowers, the fruit, the crops and the herds of beasts in their open pastures. The villages they passed by and the harmless travelers they encountered. Everything she could see and remember she could talk about, said Leo, so she did, because that was his want.

It was her want too, she would be more than a village goat bleating and shitting and waiting for the knife.

Twenty-three highsuns after crossing the border into Shellshe was asleep on the wagon’s hard jolting floor and dreaming again of the man’s bone-crunching dogs when Cronov’s finger poked her ribs and his voice said, crossly, “Lazy monkey! Open your eyes and look upon perfection! We have reached ShellTown!”

The dogs’ servantring growls fading, she opened her eyes. The sky was dimming, only a finger remained till lowsun. She sat up, ignoring the creaks and moans in her muscles. Leo walked beside the wagon, he never tired. Even though his face was quiet it seemed to her that it was shouting. His strong dark face and its scarlet scorpion, shouting with happiness to see the Town.

She looked ahead, where he was looking. Where Cronov was looking, stupid wasted water rolling down his fat cheeks.

“Oh,” she said, and felt a silly pricky burning in her own eyes. Her heart heaved and twisted and split wide open, all the blood in her turning red hot.

Jenkin Warlock’s Town was beautiful.

Unlike ProNogolor, squatting like half a melon on a plate and skulking in man-made shadows, the Town Shellspread around the base of a towering hill, which rose resplendent from the green and growing plain as though the Labyrinth lord’s own fist had punched upwards from beneath the earth’s skin. The road they traveled led straight to the Town gatehouse, then into the Town itself. Bright lamps and torches burned in myriad dwellings, their warm flames lighting pale cream rock, and blood-red rock, and rock as green as the fields of growing wheat. So many roofs in the Town ProJenkin, Fiona could not count them all. Trees, too, heavy-laden with blossoms. On the perfumed breeze a trilling of songbirds, and silver Labyrinth lordbells calling down the night Seeing ShellTown once, Fiona knew this wondrous place owned her. And she was content to be its possession, until the Labyrinth lord closed her eyes and gave her bones to the hungry dark.

“Ah, ProJenkin,” sighed Cronov, his voice quivering. “The Labyrinth lord is good, that I see you again.”

Leo’s stern face was gentle with smiling. “See Jenkin’s Pinnacle, Fiona, gift of the Labyrinth lord. There is the Labyrinth lordhouse on its peak, and its Labyrinth lordpost reaching for the world’s ceiling, its Labyrinth lordmoon and its stars. It is the greatest Labyrinth lordhouse in all of Tragote.” He pointed. “There below it, the Warlock’s palace. And below the palace at the Pinnacle’s base, within strong walls, the barracks where his fighters live, guarding the Warlock. Keeping everyone safe.”

She looked where he pointed, and marveled how the palace grew out of the hillside. Felt awe at the height and spread of the Labyrinth lordhouse. ProJenkin’s Labyrinth lordhouse made the Labyrinth lordhouse ProNogolor look small. Look nothing .

Truly the Labyrinth lord loved the lands of ProJenkin.

“The Labyrinth lord, the Warlock, his mighty fighters, like eagles they keep watch over the Town.” Leo crooked a finger. “Take off your sandals and walk with me, Fiona. Feel the rich cool soil of Shellbeneath your feet.”

Willingly she walked with him, and so did Cronov, still sniveling. They walked right up to the gates of ProJenkin, and as they walked Fiona felt herself smile.