The Lost Colony

Chapter 22

That's probably for the best," Sparr said. The pair hardly could have been less suited for the duties of being a prince. They were too rambunctious, and, Sparr suspected, too clever.

"Oh, here," Efreem said suddenly. He handed Sparr a crudely-stitched pouch which, upon inspection, was shown to contain tokens.

"What is this?"

"They threw tokens at you," Efreem reminded him. "At the show." It didn't appear to cause him any discomfort that 'the show' had been little less than a live s*x act. "Liette said you earned them."

There were perhaps twenty tokens in the pouch. "Help me," he said, showing his friend a palm full of the discs.

Efreem understood. "The silver ones are the most common," he said. "They're the least valuable." He pointed to a darker one with a warm sheen to the stiff metal. Sparr might have called it bronze. "These are next. Each is worth five of the silver."

"Are there others?" Sparr asked. "More valuable?"

"Oh, yes. The darker ones. Different colors but no difference in value. All worth twenty-five." Efreem pushed his fingers through the pile of coins. "You don't have any."

Sparr stashed the pouch. "Thanks," he said. Of the things he had encountered on Kaybe, the tokens were among the most perplexing. Each of the coins was different from the others, and incredibly intricate. There weren't any signs of wear. Their production surely was beyond the capabilities of the planet's current inhabitants. What else, he wondered, had been lost?

***

That evening, Sparr resumed his instruction of Drian and Tuck. The three princes that accompanied the caravan had no time for them, and the guards and drivers were more than happy not to have the two youths under their feet. As before, the three drilled with improvised wooden swords.

"Stay crouched, body turned in. Don't give him a target." Sparr circled the youths as they sparred. "No, don't straighten your legs."

"I could hit him, easy!" protested Tuck. This particular drill allowed only one of the pair to try to land blows while the other kept up his defense. Neither of the two were naturally inclined toward restraint.

"You both need to learn patience, how to defend yourselves. 'The best offense is a good defense.'" Sparr had heard the expression somewhere, although he wasn't sure he had it right.

Tuck grumbled, but continued to dance away from Drian, mostly blocking or dodging the other man's blows.

"You!" Sparr exclaimed, gesturing at Drian. "What are you doing?"

"Kicking his ass," laughed the youth. He swung wildly.

"You're not in control," groaned Sparr. "Tuck's right, he could hit you easily. Use the stance I showed you."

"But he can't hit me!"

With a nod of his head, Sparr signaled Tuck. The next time Drian launched a wild attack, Tuck dodged it, and landed his own blow on Drian's knee.

"Ow, f**k!" Drian yelled. "What the hell?"

Sparr raised his hands in a placatory manner. "Lead with defense," he explained. "A rash opponent will show his weakness. Watch, stay alive, and wait for your moment to strike."

Tuck, pleased with himself, grinned. Drian was still irritated.

"We don't have to do this!" Drian complained, rubbing his knee. "We don't have to train with you."

"No, you're right," Sparr said. "You don't have to train with me."

"Yeah," Drian said. He eyed Sparr warily.

"You don't," Sparr repeated. He waved toward where the caravan had stopped for the night. "I think I spotted the lady Affan eyeing you earlier. Warm her bed tonight and I'll excuse you."

"f**k that!" Drian said. "She's like a thousand years old."

"What do you think princes do?" Sparr squared himself to Drian. "They sing, they dance, and they entertain. Sometimes they entertain women, sometimes men. Why do you think the temple bought you?"

The color fled from Drian's face. Behind him, Tuck nodded grimly. "It isn't like we got to choose who bought us," the latter said.

"No," Sparr said, "you didn't." Again, his heart went out to anyone caught up in the web of slave trading that infested the planet. "But you can choose what to do about it. Liette will sell you at the earliest opportunity once she realizes you don't fit her plans. You'll have no say. When that time comes would you like to know how to fight, or just how to cause trouble?"

The three drilled for another hour.

***

The days unfolded with a familiar rhythm. Silla and her sole helper, a boy named Grom, woke before the others. As the pilgrims were drawn from their tents by the smells of breakfast, the drivers would begin to break camp. Before mid morning, the caravan would be underway.

Cheddar hung before them, a pale orange ghost almost invisible in daylight, and scantly more so at night. In the several days since Sparr, Efreem, and Silla had seen it rise, it had barely moved. It would be weeks yet before the moon would dip behind them. By then, Sparr hoped, they would already have reached Shong.

The first several days took the pilgrims south, between the two ridges Sparr had seen from space, past the spot where the Urst had captured him. Vegetation was dense, with thick-limbed trees that at some agreed-upon height broke into clusters of wiry branches. These swam with hordes of tiny, dark birds which hopped across the trunk looking for insects. The undergrowth had been cleared from the road, but from time to time, rodent-like creatures with large, haunting eyes could be seen peering at them from under the brush. The nights were a cacophony of hoots, calls, and distant shrieks. Sparr was sure he heard the yelps and howls of the dusk hounds, but none troubled the caravan.

On the morning of the third day the party broke free of the valley to turn east. Here, the terrain gradually softened, with both hills, and level fields in evidence. Many of the hills were planted with vineyards, and for the first time Sparr observed workers there and in the fields.

"Ah, a stretch of land both fertile and treacherous. It makes my heart cry out in joy!" Lord Toph sometimes jumped from his wagon to take some exercise. He fell in alongside Sparr.

"Treachery?" Sparr was puzzled. He had come to appreciate Toph. The man didn't take himself seriously, and was as fond of a laugh as the others were of tokens.

"Oh yes, yes," the merchant chuckled. "Remember son, I'm in the secure shipping business. If the entire land was peaceful, I'd be out of work." He stroked his moustaches, smiling broadly.

"It's dangerous here? All the way to Shong?"

"Oh, there are more dangerous routes for sure. West, you know. Past the Tooth Hills. I'm obliged to charge twice what I do for a Shong run."

"So, from here to Shong..." Sparr let the question hang in the air.

"Not risk free," Toph admitted. "Us pilgrims can sometimes be a target for kidnappers. But, in a caravan of this size we should be okay." The man's voice grew quieter. "I do wish we were using my men though, not the Governor's."

"I did wonder about that," Sparr said. "Why does the temple rely upon the Governor for protection?"

"It's the smart move, when you think about it." The merchant looked about as if fearing spies. "If something should happen, the blame can be placed upon him. Can you imagine if temple guards let a group of the faithful be kidnapped or slaughtered?"

It wasn't hard to picture. Donations would dry up. One of the most powerful inducements the temple had, the promise of joining the pilgrimage, would lose its appeal entirely. Men like Toph might still donate tokens for an afternoon with a maiden, but no more than that. Accordingly, the Governor himself would take pains to protect the pilgrims. The symbiosis between the church and the state ran deep.

"This is your first pilgrimage?" Sparr hadn't noticed an emblem on Toph's careful attire.

"It is," he admitted. "I mean, it's my first time here with the temple. I've led caravans through this stretch many times though."

"I'm just curious what to expect," Sparr said, before realizing he might be revealing too much. "I mean, I wasn't raised in the faith."

Toph just laughed. "You were at the Departure. The Animal, right?"

Sparr cursed inwardly, but tried to maintain his composure. "Yes," he said.

"Those of us joining the pilgrimage aren't invited," Toph said. "But I heard the stories. Bravo, by the way."

"I was drugged," muttered Sparr.

"Oh, I'm sure you were. Anyway," Toph resumed, "if you've seen the Departure you've seen the pilgrimage."

"I heard something about 'wonders'."

Toph snorted, then, with a sudden, dramatic flourish of his hands, spun to face Sparr. "All of the faithful, gather!" he said, affecting a showman's voice. "Gladden your heart and fill your soul. Walk the same path as Omm himself!" The merchant raised his hands as if exhorting an invisible crowd. "See the wonders, learn of the trials, and join in the ritual cursing of the machines. And of course, buy lots of souvenirs."

It was Sparr's turn to laugh, the first time he could remember doing so in several days. "Do you get a commission?"

"A token for every genuine, fake replica wheel," Toph joked. "You're alright, Animal."

The two walked for a time in silence. Dust kicked up by the wagons clouded the morning air, before settling onto stubby undergrowth. Around them the hills came alive. Grape pickers carried empty baskets toward the hills, returning with bundles of red, white, and even yellow fruit. In the fields, draybeasts similar to those that pulled the caravan dragged carts and plows. Seven hundred years ago on Earth the scene would have felt pastoral. Now it only served to remind Sparr what had been so quickly forgotten on Kaybe. On the other hand, the occupants of the planet had with equal speed found ways to plant, harvest, trade, ferment, build, and weave.