01. When the Changewinds Blow (38 page)

Charley was positive that Mister Moustache was the inside man and that he would somehow signal and bring down a horde of fierce bandits on them at any moment, but while the odd little man kept to himself pretty much he did nothing of a really suspicious nature. Perhaps he just decided that this one wasn't worth it; there'd be easier pickings on later trains.

Along the way, too, Sam had gotten to know a number of the people, both travelers and crew, including Madame Serkosh, the married woman traveling with husband and kids. Rini, as she insisted she be called, had the art of trail cooking and packing down pat. "You have to, with five along," she said practically. Her husband seemed somewhat withdrawn and aloof, but she and the kids were outgoing types, delighted to show a newcomer the art of baking on the trail and lots of other practical things, and seemingly not at all put off by the unusual nature of the female trio Sam represented. They were headed home after showing off the kids to her brother-in-law, who managed a luxury hotel in Tubikosa. They lived in a Mashtopol sector off
the
southwest of that hub, and would change there for the final few days home.

"You'll like Mashtopol alter Tubikosa," she told Sam. "Things are a lot more fun and a lot less strict there. The capital's not very big compared to Tubikosa, but it's a nice little city that minds its own business and lets you mind yours. I wish it had the markets and bazaars of Tubikosa, though. Seeing the variety there compared to what we're used to was just amazing."

Their own sector, which was called Shadimoc, apparently was involved in some kind of manufacturing, although just what it produced-and what sort of inhabitants really produced it-^wasn't all that clear. Sam didn't press it; with all the possibilities of this world it didn't seem worth it, and besides she was still getting used to the little Bi'ihquans.

Neither of Rim's boys-Tan, eleven, and Jom, seven- would have much to do'with Sam; she suspected their father feared those weird women would infect them with some kind of debauched ideas. Apparently he didn't care about his daughters getting corrupted, though, or thought they were too smart to be corrupted, since he seemed to have no objection to their talking not only with Sam but even with Boday, who showed an unexpected soft side for kids. Charley, at first, had felt stuck, since she really wanted some company, but felt she had to play Shari at all times around them so they wouldn't be going back to their parents with news that the pretty girl was smart and clever. After a couple of days, though, it was clear that while Charley could fool adults, she had little chance of fooling kids. The language barrier, at least, kept things at what seemed to be a safe level. Both dressed in long pullovers and pants, apparently the standard garb for Akhbreed colonials where they came from. It wasn't all that fashionable, but it was practical; they had all clearly left the strict codes of Tubikosa, or at least had exchanged them for looser ones.

Rani was thirteen and already pubescent, only just so, and still trying to deal a bit with what that all meant and what her body was doing to her. She was thin, with her parents' dark olive complexion and her father's rather prominent nose, with thick black curly hair and eyes that seemed just as dark, and she was already about five feet tall, almost to Sam and Charley's height. She looked like somebody from the Middle East, as did her parents. She wasn't all that pretty, with a mouth too large and a nose too prominent, but she wasn't ugly, either, but to Sam, at least, the girl seemed both ordinary and exotic. She was a rather quiet child, but she warmed Boday's heart by looking at the eccentric artist's sketches with awe and wonder. Boday instantly decided that this was the most tasteful and intuitively brilliant child she'd ever met.

Sheka was nine, and had that same mouth, but her nose was a bit better proportioned, her eyes large, and her hair straight, and she was chubby-not fat like Sam, but chubby. She was also more outgoing and inquisitive, and seemed fascinated by Charley. She was also capable of asking embarrassing questions in total innocence like why Charley waited on them like a
serk-
apparently the name of the natives of Shamidoc-and if the butterfly eyes came off and how much of Boday's body was covered with designs and pictures-and why. With the aid of Rani, who seemed constantly embarrassed by her sister's questions, they managed to deflect the hardest to answer.

WHEN THE CHANGEWINDS BLOW 237

Both were allowed to come over now and then, usually together, when they stopped for the evenings, and even though their stays were brief they were welcome ones.

The last day's journey was through rough, less developed country and rugged, volcanic terrain, and it was easy to see why this place would be ideal for bandits, but when they reached the end of the road nothing had happened. It seemed almost anticlimactic, but neither Sam nor Charley nor Boday could say they felt disappointed. So far so good. Over four hundred miles and the worst that had happened overall was a good drenching.

The end of Bi'ihqua was not like the beginning. The road did not just end; only the land changed just beyond the border posts. The change was dramatic, but there was nothing to suggest anything odd or magical here. The road did not end; it continued on past a border control post and fort, and a few hundred yards beyond, the volcanic terrain simply ceased and was replaced by a thick, northern-style forest. The road changed at that point, too, from the rich black hard-packed earth of Bi'ihqua to a hard, unrutted red clay. The road seemed better maintained on the other side for all the soldier's remarks about Mashtopol, even to having drainage cuts on either side. There was a small border post there, too, with far fewer soldiers wearing blue, not black, uniforms and colored epaulets on their shoulders.

They disembarked and set up for the night on the Tubikosan side, just outside the border fort. Sam couldn't help noticing that while the Tubikosa border was heavily double-fenced as far as you could see in both directions, the Mastopol one was not. After getting set up, she wandered over to the Serkosh family wagon and found Rini.
"That
is the Kudaan Wastes?" she asked mem. "It looks pretty nice to me!"

Rini laughed, "Oh, not That's Kwei, I think. It's hard to keep track but I thought I heard the Pilot say so. I wish we
were
going that way, but few trains do. Kwei wood goes almost entirely to the rest of Mashtopol; little is exported. Unfortunately, the international trains coming back almost always go through the worst and ugliest sectors. That's because it's cheaper to get
them
to pick up the dangerous or heavy cargo and bring it in for free in lieu of transit fees. If we'd known someplace like Kwei would be up when we got here we would have arranged a special transfer through to it, but there's no way of knowing what you'll get when you come here and it's too late now." She sighed. "Too bad, too. I'd much rather pick up some nice wood furnishings cheap than go through a damned desert."

Sam felt disappointed. The land in front of her looked so
pleasant.
"Then that's why they call it the Wastes? Because it's a desert?"

Rini nodded. "They'll take on a water wagon here, I bet, and maybe more. I've heard the Wastes are pretty, though. It's just that down this end they're pretty dangerous. The land is so rugged it's a perfect hideout for anyone who, well, needs to hide out and can somehow get there. Ten armies wouldn't blast you out of there if you didn't want to be blasted out, so they don't try. There's a
wonderful
lot of books written set in the Kudaan Wastes. It's very romantic. They just quarantine the area and have a military escort the first hundred and fifty leegs. Nobody usually bothers the inbound trains anyway, though; not much to steal. So they only pick up the ores inbound. See? Oh, it'll be exotic but I don't think we'll be molested. If we thought there was a real danger we'd never go through there with the kids. There's a number of spots like Kudaan, and most of these navigators have deals, anyway. We might even see some of the accursed or changelings."

Sam wasn't sure she was too excited about seeing anybody called accursed or a changeling but she let that pass. Charley seemed genuinely excited by the description; it sounded much like her own native desert southwest. Boday seemed interested only in the artistic possibilities, but she did explain two terms. "Changelings are those poor unfortunates caught in a changewind who manage to make it to such places," she told them. "They are often horrible or grotesque, and not all were Akhbreed to begin with. Some are partly changed-only a part of them received exposure and the result was able to live--and they are the halflings. The accursed-they may look similar or look ordinary, but their troubles are due to more deliberate magic. The changewinds are random; the accursed are truly that. Often they change in the dark or under special conditions from normal to quite mad, or from man or woman to beast. The others-criminals, malcontents, political refugees, zealots. Boday thinks most will keep well out of sight, particularly if we have troops with us. Most are there because they do not
wish to
be seen."

The next morning dawned bleak and dreary. Kwei was gone; in its place was a slimy, creepy-looking swamp that was being wet down by a light, misty rain. The road still continued on; this one, however, was not in nearly as good shape as the one into Kwei; it was hard-packed and looked paved and slightly elevated and it had potholes in it that looked mean enough to bounce a wagon to the moon. There was a tiny bonier post there but it appeared unmanned. Boday read the sign on it that said, "Mashtopol Entry Point. All entrants should report to Customs Office in the Village of Muur, one hundred and six leegs."

"They're real worried about their border, aren't they?" Charley noted sarcastically.

"About as much as they are about road maintenance," Sam responded, eyeing those potholes. "This is one I'm glad we
don't
have to go through."

Jahoort got them all assembled as if it were just another day's journey, but this was different. For one thing, all of the crew, including Jahoort, were now packing weapons. Sam saw pistols, rifles, shotguns, even fancy crossbows. They looked loaded for bear, that was for sure. Some of the people traveling with them also now were armed, a few with swords, fewer with guns which were generally prohibited to the public in Tubikosa.

The navigator stood a moment with the Pilot who'd brought them through with no trouble. "I'll be picking up an inbound sometime tomorrow if he's on schedule," the Pilot was saying. He offered his hand "Well, good luck. It's been a pleasure, as usual. Take care through that armpit you're going into and shoot anything that don't shoot you first."

Jahoort took the Pilot's hand. "Well, can't say I'm fond of taking paying passengers this route, but in a choice between saving money and risking lives the Company always chooses the money. I been that way dozens of times, though. It's not as bad as it's cracked up to be." He pointed to the swamp across the way. "Now,
that
just shouldn't be allowed. I'd rather go through Kudaan than risk horses, nargas, and wagons on that kind of road."

With that, he stepped out, mounted his horse, then rode right up to the gate at the border, and stared out at the swamp.

Again the scenes changed, first slowly, then more rapidly. Again infinite variations flashed before them, and again it suddenly stopped and there before them now the road led into the Kudaan Wastes.

"Bleak," said Sam.

"Beautiful," said Boday.

"Oh, wow!" exclaimed Charley.

11

When the Desert Storms

The misty rain and the humid feel suddenly vanished and they were hit by a sudden blast of incredibly dry, superheated air.

Charley had not been far off in her guess. The Kudaan Wastes resembled the Four Corners area of New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado, and Utah; the land where most western movies had been made, the land so pretty but so bleak nobody had even
wanted
to take it away from the Indians.

It was a broad, flat plain punctuated with tall mesas and buttes of multicolored rock, twisted spires and places where the land ended in great gashes revealing more rock layers as you looked down into canyons. The colors were red, purple, black, white, tan, orange, even blue, in all sorts of shades and hues. The road was little more than a worn dirt track on the parched and cracked desert floor and it seemed to go off into the distance forever.

Jahoort didn't immediately signal a forward advance and it was fairly clear why. He had said that troops were to meet them here and escort them beyond the no man's land before them, but there was not a living thing in sight and sight extended a fair ways. No military also meant no Pilot, and that meant they were on their own with no warnings of what was ahead. He gave a hand signal and all members of the crew went forward to meet with him, the ones driving the wagons jumping down and walking over there or doubling up with the horsemen and riggers.

"Gentlemen, the safety of this train is our responsibility," Jahoort told his men, "and particularly mine. As you can see, no troops, no nothing, and I cannot maintain this synchronicity for very long, certainly no more than an hour. Any thoughts?" Donnah, one of the older hands and the cargomaster, spat, then said, "Hell, boss, if we could drop the passengers I'd say go for it, but I wouldn't go in
there
with paying customers for nothin' if I could avoid it. 'Course, I'll do what you order." "You know better, Donnah. We drop the passengers and make it, we're goona have to refund their whole damned passage and send a safe special back for 'em. Might be penalties, too. I ain't old enough to retire yet, let alone get kicked out on that account. Either we all stay or we all go. How say you?"

It was Crindil who spoke for most of them. "You know we're game for it, boss. Been kind'a dull lately. I haven't been through here in six, seven months, but I didn't have much trouble with Sanglar and I don't expect none with you. Seems to me we go and we got a real club to hold to Mashtopol's head. Still, there's too many women and children this trip for me to just bravo it. I say we ask them."