Gemworld (9 page)

Sal’s breath caught in his throat. He was
here
, being given the opportunity to do exactly what he’d always wanted to do. Maybe the wrong planet, but nonetheless the right fight. With no further doubt, Sal firmly said “Yes.”

True.

***

By late morning, the council at the bottom of the dais was satisfied, and one of their number gave a nod to a young boy who’d been standing in attendance. Immediately, the runner hopped off the steps of the dais and sprinted into the surrounding village. Seeing this, Reit stopped pacing and turned to face Sal fully, a satisfied, yet dignified smile stretching across his face.

“Lieutenant James Edward Salvatori... Sal... You have been asked many questions, some of which I’m sure you found a bit personal, but you answered all with great poise and integrity. I’ll not dishonor that integrity by calling upon you to swear fealty to me, as some leaders would. I am no great man, only a man with a great burden. I ask you, of your own accord, to share that burden with me and those who follow me, for as long as you would see fit.” With that, he offered his right hand to Sal.

Sal knew that this part was just a formality. He’d been accepted by Reit, the village council, all the folks that really mattered. But it filled him with pride all the same to take his friend’s hand and complete the cycle. The council cheered and crowded into the pavilion to greet their new brother-in-arms.

After a few moments, Reit worked his way into the tumult and cleared a path for Sal. As they neared the steps leading down to the green, Reit waved his hand out before them. “Sal, behold your new home.”

Sal stepped down from the platform amidst myriad welcomes, ranging from handshakes to pats on the back to all-out embraces from the women of the village. Embarrassed at first, Sal grew accustomed to it as the greeting wore on. Not that he had much choice in the matter, anyway. It wasn’t so much the contact that embarrassed him as the attention. But he was the new guy, and he just went through the interview from Hell. He supposed the welcome was sort of an apology for having to go through that.
Apology accepted
, he thought, snickering as he hugged a particular fluffy, grandmotherly woman.

Finally, the crowd disbursed and went their separate ways, leaving the twins and Jaren to help Sal settle in.

First order of business was to find Sal a place to live. The foursome left the village square for the streets, giving Sal a leisurely tour as they went. Various shops were pointed out—blacksmith, carpenter, fletcher—as well as strategically defensible spots within the village structure. Sal was pleased to note that the rebels, though little more than a collection of farmers, rowdies, and hicks, were fairly well organized. Sal attributed it to leadership. Reit seemed to bring out the best in these people, and that he commanded their fiercest loyalty was unquestioned. Even as they strolled casually through the streets, Sal noticed the gleams of encouragement in the eyes of the villagers as they picked up the pace of their work, if only to garner a smile from their
el
’
Yatza
.

The troop stopped at a supply wagon, just a few rows in from the village green. The wagon, though not much larger than Sal’s accommodations from the night before, was heavily laden with awnings, tools, and scrap wood. With the help of his friends, Sal picked out what supplies he needed to build a respectable tent and the amenities to furnish it. These he put off in one corner of the wagon, to be retrieved after the tour.

They continued on, covering little more than a third of the town by the time they reached Reit’s wagon at the end of a main thoroughfare not far from Sal’s supply wagon. Nearly twice as large as Sal’s “guest quarters”, Reit’s wagon was still sleek enough to be easily moved by one horse. The door and shutters were brightly painted, and decorated to give it a homey feel that obviously did not belong to a bachelor. Sal spied a fire burning in a pit on the far side of the wagon, with a large black kettle suspended over the flames. Reit directed his friends toward a cluster of seat pillows ringing the fire. He didn’t exactly invite his friends to dine with him; it was simply understood.

Still many feet away from the fire pit, the smell of stewed meat and potatoes tickled Sal’s nose, bringing fond memories of the night before. But before Sal could ask who he had to thank for the repast, she presented herself.

Delana, the mage from Eastwind Delta.

“I believe you’ve already met my wife,” Reit said by way of introduction. Delana curtsied prettily, bringing an adoring smile to Reit’s face, and a thunderstruck look to Sal’s. “I apologize if I offend you, Sal, but you were an outsider, and custom would not allow even me the courtesy of properly introducing you earlier. At least she was able to prepare your quarters last night.”

“Oh no... I understand,” Sal assured him, then turned to Delana, stumbling through an awkward bow. “I thank you for your hospitality, ma’am.”

This brought a charming giggle from the amethyst, who shooed formality away and embraced Sal warmly. “We’ll get along just fine, Sal. So long as you promise never to call me ma’am again, that is,” she said with mock seriousness. “Besides, it was the least I could do, you boys having just missed Sowing and all.”

“Sowing?”

“One of our five festivals. All in good time,” Reit said, waving off Sal’s confusion and offering him a seat.

They took their ease around the firepit, and Delana served up steaming bowls of the stew. As Sal received his bowl, he asked, “So what was all the fuss about when the ‘interview’ was done?”

“Being greeted by the village?” Reit asked quizzically. “Are your customs not similar in your world?”

“No way. You move in, and that’s it.” Sal said, talking around a mouthful of the succulent meat. “I mean, in smaller towns it’s a bit different. You got the welcome wagon, people who volunteer their time to make newcomers feel at home, but nothing like that!”

“Our custom is influenced by our situation,” Jaren said. “We are looked upon as criminals by the ruler of this land, and we are constantly under attack. This has caused each one of our villages to become more like families than communities. And as such, we tend to treat each newcomer as a long lost brother.”

“Good way to put it,” Retzu commented. “Fact is, we actually get very few newcomers, so we view each one as a blessing from the Crafter Hisself.”

Before Sal could ask the younger twin to elaborate, Delana returned to some of the trial topics, and asked Sal to expand on some of the more personal answers—family, friends, female attachments back home and the like. He muddled through as best he could, Delana listening with keen, calculating interest. He made the sad mistake of revealing his bachelor status, and she pounced on that tidbit like a drunk on a fifth of Jack. Sal had the sinking feeling that his friend’s wife was already trying to play matchmaker.

“So what attracted you to Reit?” Sal said, desperately hoping to get out from under the microscope for a few minutes. He winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Already in matchmaking mode, the question could only serve to fan the flames of her interest. Why couldn’t he pick something less romantic to talk about—like, say, favorite summertime diseases?

“I’d have to say it was his confidence, his determination,” she said thoughtfully. Sal heard Retzu stifle a chuckle. Apparently, so did Delana, for she made a distinct point to ignore her brother-in-law.

“I don’t know about all that,” Reit interjected, completely oblivious to the exchange. “A confident man wouldn’t have so many advisors, or constantly worry if one of his decisions might—”

“Dear?”

“Yes, love?”

“This is my story. Kindly butt out?”

Reit threw up his hands in mock surrender, much to everyone’s amusement.

“When I was fifteen,” she continued with a patient grin for her husband, “I came home for the summer to take a break from my studies at Bastion. It was the height of the political season, when dignitaries the world over would flock to Eastwind Delta, en route to Schel Veylin to audience with the Highest. Every year, my father would outfit one of his fishing trawlers for river travel, and ferry these dignitaries upstream to the Veylin highroad at the foot of the Icebreak Mountains.

“This particular summer, I was working on Father’s ferry when I happened upon a young man about my age. He was bound for Bayton, not Schel Veylin like the other nobles. That had me quite curious. He was darkly handsome, well built—much more appealing than I eventually found his gangly brother to be,” she said archly, pausing to cast Retzu, who had started snickering again, a withering look. This made Retzu only laugh the harder. Reit sat in silence, a small embarrassed smile stretching across his flushed face.

“I remember him traveling alone,” Delana said. “He was a somber young man, sullen, much too serious for his age. Even watching him on the deck, staring out quietly over the river, I could see his mind absolutely rife with activity. Amethyst sight,” she said, indicating her violet eyes. “I didn’t know what was troubling him, but he looked like he could use a friend. So I introduced myself to him. Rather forward for a girl too young to marry, I know, but something about him just drew me in like a lodestone. Well, we took to each other from the start. I’m afraid I wasn’t much help for my father over the next few days.

“Anyway, one night, about midway upriver, we stole off the ferry and went walking by moonlight,” she continued. “We enjoyed each other’s company so much that we lost track of time. Get your mind out of the slop buckets!” she chided as Retzu redoubled his efforts to keep from laughing out loud. “He was a perfect gentleman, thank you very much. As I was saying, we lost track of time, and when we finally returned, we found that the ferry had left without us. Apparently, Da thought I was still abed.

“Naturally, I was frightened. Reit solemnly vowed that he’d return me to my father unmoles—err, unharmed, rather,” she amended as Retzu tried vainly to restrain his worsening convulsions. Hissing through her teeth, Delana continued. “And when I looked into his eyes, I saw that he had complete faith that what he promised, he could deliver, so I trusted him.

“For the next three days, we lived off the land, following the river as it wove its way toward the Vale. We found ourselves growing more fond of each other as the hours and miles passed, until—”

Retzu couldn’t contain himself any longer. He burst out in laughter so hard that he couldn’t breathe. Between the tears and gasps he choked out, “They were... a week... south of the highroad... going the wrong way!” His revelation given, Retzu collapsed into a mass of convulsing mirth.

Delana’s violet gemstone eyes flashed in reply, and Retzu was instantly showered in sparks. Static coursed across the assassin’s body, standing his hair on end. Still Retzu chortled in between his grunts of pain.

Despite her best efforts, the damage had been done. Sal and Jaren had joined their friend, rolling in laughter. Even Reit was chuckling shyly.

“How were we to know that he was following a tributary?” she demanded in her husband’s defense. Not that anyone could hear her through their own gasps and wheezes. And not that it mattered anyway. The merriment was contagious and, with no other recourse, soon even Delana was cackling uncontrollably.

***

Retzu took the rest of the meal pacing around the fire pit, still much too jittery to remain seated for very long. During a lull in the conversation, he asked Sal what his immediate plans might be.

“Probably to avoid any stray lightning bolts,” Sal teased.

“I was meaning as far as employment, mate. A man has to earn his way, after all.”

“Oh. Well, to be honest, I hadn’t given it much thought. I really don’t even know how I could be useful around here. I’m a trained soldier, but that’s more of an as-needed type of job, not a full time one.”

“Y’got that right,” said the assassin emphatically. “Sometimes I pray the Crafter for a raid just so I can actually get off my duff. I suppose I can train you in the ways of
shol
’
tuk
. That should keep us both busy, at least part of the time.”

“Shol-what?”

“
Shol
’
tuk
. ‘Silent blade’ or ‘silent death’, depending on where you’re from. It’s the assassin’s art of killing.”

“So I’m gonna be a ninja, huh? You know... a ninj—never mind, wrong world. Yeah, that’s right up my alley. I’m sure I’d like that.”

Jaren slipped a hand up for Sal’s attention. “If memory serves, you mentioned an uncle yesterday during the questioning. You said he worked with gems?”

“Yeah, my Uncle Gordon. He was a jeweler in Birmingham before he relocated to Tulsa. I worked my way through college at his shop. Why do you ask?”

“Ah, yes,” Reit said, catching on. “Marissa. She’s one of the local artisans—what you call a jeweler in your world, though ‘gemsmith’ would be a bit closer to the truth. She recently lost her apprentice to the rigors of motherhood, so she could probably use the help.” Reit raised his eyebrows, silently asking Sal his opinion.

Sal’s eyebrows pinched as he considered the idea. So lost in thought was he, that he completely missed the twinkle in Delana’s eyes.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he said finally. “I’m probably a little rusty, but that stuff’s like riding a bike.”