Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (35 page)

“Feel
up to telling me how those Arzak assholes got you?”

“Think
I need to.”

As
earlier speculated, Carl had been camped east of Hoodo Pass when the earthquake
struck. His experience differed only in that he regained consciousness in the
South March, Belstan’s area of origin. As Carl got into the story, words came
in a torrent.

“Took
awhile to figure out I was a long way from home, boyo. Nearly starved to death
by the time I met up with a group of hunters who took me in. Don’t know who was
more scared, me or them. Nice folks, though. Sort of worked my way into their
tribe and helped out the medicine man—after he finally became convinced I
wasn’t out to replace him, that is.

“We
wandered south to do some trading with a village fifty miles or so north of
Lugsburg, and were ambushed by slavers. Never had a chance. They killed
everyone they didn’t want and chained up the rest of us. I can’t tell you what
it was like, Jeff. I fought it for several months, but after awhile there
wasn’t much left to fight with. I was about to give up when you found me. That
was the hardest part to bear—giving up and hating myself for it.”

Jeff
patted Carl’s shoulder. “It’s done now. Time to rebuild our lives. We’re with
some pretty fine people by any planet’s standards. Here, use this.” Jeff handed
his shirt to Carl

“That
we are, bucko, that we are.” Carl dabbed at his eyes with the shirt. “Now—fill
me in on what happened to you.”

“It’s
a pretty strange story.” Jeff didn’t get far before Carl interrupted. “Tell me
again how big you estimated that mountain to be. The one you saw to the
southeast.”

“The
only close approximation on Earth is Everest. Thing is, this one was sitting
off by itself, not part of the mountain chain. It blew my mind.”

“You
know we’re going to have to see if we can climb it,” Carl chortled, “or at
least get as high as we can without oxygen. I’ve got to see that mountain!”

“You’re
on. But wait until you hear what I ran into a week or so later.” Jeff paused
for effect. “Finally managed to kill a deer and happened to look at its teeth.
Meat-tearing incisors and great whopping canines.”

“Meat-eating
deer? Nothing like that down south.” Carl grinned wickedly. “Be interesting to
drop a bunch of them into the Cascades about deer hunting time. I think that
would add a new dimension to the term, open season. It must have been something
of surprise when you figured it out.”

“Yeah,
I can tell you it really got my attention. Still thought I was on Earth at that
point.”

“Until
you saw the two moons, right?”

“You
too? But what happened next makes the impact those two moons had pale to
nothing.”

When
Jeff finished relating his first wolf encounter, Carl’s expression reflected
both disbelief and intense excitement.

“Don’t
shit me, Jeffrey. Telepathy? The real thing?”

“The
real thing, and that was just about my reaction when Balthazar hit me with it.
That’s how I knew it was you under all that dirt and grime back in Tradertown.
Nearly got through.”

Jeff
related the rest of his story in a few paragraphs, then eyed Carl. “See any
short, bandy-legged folks sort of like earth’s Mongols while you were in
Lukash?”

Still
caught up with the wolves, Carl nodded vaguely. “Sure. Saw a whole bunch of
them. Now that I think about it they did resemble Mongolians, although I didn’t
notice an epicanthic fold.”

They
talked for a while longer, but both men were still far from recovered. Jeff was
the first to go. He was awake at the start of a sentence and asleep when Carl
finished it. Tucking Jeff under a blanket, Carl tottered off to bed.

It
was a week before Jeff’ had recovered enough strength to attend a strategy
conference. Belstan, Rogelf and Zimma were present as well as Ostfel, who was
in charge of coordinating their agents. Carl had been included at Jeff’s
request.

Zimma
hurried to meet them when they entered the room. She kissed Jeff on the cheek,
led him to the table and pulled out a chair.

“I’m
not going to break, Zimma.”

“That
remains to be seen.”

She
pushed the chair forward and he plopped into it. Taking a seat next to Jeff,
she matter-of-factly picked up his hand.

“We
are now all assembled,” Belstan announced. “Let us begin. Jeffrey, what are
your conclusions concerning Salchek intent?”

While
bedridden Jeff had spent hours studying maps and fitting pieces of the Salchek
puzzle together. After providing some background he got down to central issues.

“Saafir’s
mention of Salcheks marching north and those identified by Carl leaves little
doubt that an invasion is underway. Tradertown will soon be taken. It is likely
to become the staging ground for at least one prong of an attack on Khorgan. I
now believe slaves were being shipped into and not out of Tradertown to do the
manual labor called for by Arzak and Salchek fortification plans.”

“The
diagram you discovered in the sand strongly suggests this will take place.”

“Yes
it does, Rogelf, but the Salchek will soon move north from Tradertown. Lake
Ligura offers an elegant highway to Khorgan. Yet I believe invasion by way of
Tradertown is only one portion of this city’s peril. Even as Belstan concluded,
Lugsburg offers easy entry into Chaldesia. It is directly accessible by sea and
only several weeks’ march from Khorgan’s gates.”

Rogelf
reported that tribute continued to flow south, with no evidence that city
councilors were attempting to organize a defense.

“Our
esteemed leaders have become so corrupted by greed that they now conclude their
chests of gold can buy or control anything. Stupid, stupid, stupid and this
city will pay dearly for it.”

“Without
doubt, but let us proceed to the heart of the matter,” Belstan said. “Invasion
comes. How soon? Only the Salchek are certain, yet from what has been said I
believe they will be at Khorgan’s gates and piers before fall. We must plan for
our survival in what is to come.”

“And
I suspect our time to do so has been foreshortened,” Jeff interjected. “What
occurred at Tradertown is by now well known to the Salcheks. I could not avoid
using my pistol, and reports of its effects have no doubt been greatly
exaggerated in the telling. These reports may serve to speed the Salchek toward
Khorgan. I suspect they will be here in no more than five weeks.”

“Or
less. Perhaps in three weeks.” Belstan stood up and leaned his hands on the
table. “There is no dealing with the councilors. I believe it will not be long
ere they target us for revenge in an attempt to appease the Salchek. I am well known
to them and my association with Rogelf has existed for years.” With a sigh of
regret, he put into words what everyone was thinking. “We must leave, and soon.
If word of our Tradertown escapade should arrive before we accomplish this, all
is lost.”

A
general discussion ensued covering every possible alternative, but it was clear
from the start that their options boiled down to two: leave or die. In the end
Rogelf and Belstan decided the entire trading operation would be moved north to
Astholf. Rogelf had a trading station there that would have to serve.

At
that point Jeff backed out of the conversation. Moving a large trading
operation by ship was far outside his experience, and other thoughts clamored
for attention. Fall was not far off, he had completed his mission, and it was
time to leave for Rugen and Valholm. To leave for home. Oblivious to the
spirited debate going on around him, Jeff turned the word around in his mind.
Home. Where is my home?

When
the meeting broke up he walked to quarters on Carl’s arm in a state of
exhaustion. Before falling asleep, Jeff murmured, “No, the North is my home. At
least that much is clear.”

“This
will never do.” Belstan and Carl were strolling the length of Rogelf’s pier.

“They’re
working hard,” Carl observed. “I don’t see how they can go any faster.”

“They
cannot, but we are nearly out of time.” Belstan hurried off.

Lines
of stevedores streamed back and forth along the pier. They had been working
from first light to well after dark for several days. Trade goods on hand were
being transferred to the Baktar, but the pace was too slow if they wanted to
get out of town alive.

Shortly,
a number of heavy wagons were also rumbling from warehouse to ship. When the
Baktar was loaded, overloaded as far as the captain was concerned, it was sent
to Astholf with Ostfel on board to make necessary arrangements.

Rogelf
chartered two additional ships, and these were soon tied up at the pier being
loaded. A fourth ship, one of Rogelf’s that had just come in, was reserved for
personnel, furniture and livestock. There was no disguising the frenetic level
of activity mandated by the evacuation schedule. By the third day of loading,
Rogelf and Belstan’s trade acquaintances were calling at regular intervals.

Some
of those who stopped by were friends of long standing and were briefed after
being sworn to secrecy. Rogelf and Belstan were fully aware how short a time
such oaths would hold, serving to increase the urgency they all felt. The rest
of those that called were dished up bland fare that had no bearing on reality
but might serve for a period. In spite of the interruptions, either Belstan or
Rogelf were always on the pier to make sure the pace never slackened. Although
the job of moving seemed to have no end, the cavernous warehouse slowly
emptied.

Anticipating
surveillance, Rogelf detailed a number of his men to intercept as many council
agents as possible. As a result, toward the end of the loading cycle a number
of bodies began to wash up along the waterfront. Rogelf was an old hand and
knew his men could not possibly eliminate every agent. Other staff members were
given the task of spreading contradictory rumors to foster confusion. Of
primary importance, a steady flow of bribes insured current information from
council chambers.

When
he received reports that the councilors were planning to move against him,
Rogelf put the evacuation into overdrive and posted observers on all major
streets giving access to the waterfront. Despite Rogelf’s concern about his
strength, Jeff would not be denied and set out on foot to patrol his station.

He
had not left the pier while recuperating and was immediately struck by the
number of heavily loaded wagons lumbering north and south on Marine Way. The
waterfront was often crowded with traffic, but not shortly after dawn. He
resumed walking when he realized what was going on.

“Like
rats leaving a sinking ship.” Jeff imagined what the waterfront would look like
by the end of the day. “This is spreading like wildfire,” he glumly muttered.
“By now the entire city must be infected. Shit, the place is going to come
unglued!” He considered turning back but discarded the idea. Belstan and Rogelf
were savvy and extremely well informed.

His
patrol area was deep within the city. Jeff selected a café with outside tables
near a major intersection. A breakfast crowd jammed the Palace, and the gossip
mill was in full cry. Although people seemed uptight, Jeff heard nothing that
alarmed him. The street was busier than usual for the hour, and many of the
wagons were heavily loaded.

A
troop of dragoons went by at a fast trot, and he stood up to see better. They
were heading into the city not toward the waterfront, and Jeff sat back down.
Just as quickly, he stood back up and followed their backs. They’re armed with
bows, he worriedly thought. Never seen that before. Time to move on.

He
strolled deeper into the city but observed nothing of consequence. Jeff stopped
to eat at a busy pushcart when his stomach told him it was time. Some of the
rumors floating about were impressive. They ran the gamut from marauding gangs
to a terrible disease that was racing through the city. Jeff smiled. Rogelf’s
strategy was paying off and about to hit the explosive stage. He stayed close
to the cart while eating, and figured he had hit pay dirt when two young
officers of the guard stopped for a quick bite.

They
were trying to keep their voices down but seemed agitated and spoke louder than
intended. Jeff eased closer. His attention was riveted on the officers and he
failed to note the two men and a woman who moved in concert with him.

“What
in Ruzog’s name is afflicting our superiors?” mumbled officer number one. “And
should I know more? I was on leave!” snarled number two. “Two days off and I
was called back to duty!”

While
it was piecemeal information, Jeff was left with the sense that a special
formation had been called for the first hour after noon. He gulped down the
last of his food.

“Time
to beat feet. It’s going down.”

Jeff
wove through the crowd around the cart. Time was short and he had to hurry. He
was out of the press when a man wearing a cynical smile blocked his way.

“Did
you have an interesting lunch, citizen Friedrick?”

Jeff
whirled around. Three of them!