The Lord of the Plains (40 page)

One of the servants began playing a small,
stringed instrument and they lapsed into a relaxed silence.

Though Cavachi was a city predominantly
inside a mountain, nowhere was it dark. Somehow the Vachi managed
to keep the place bright all the time and often with natural light
that came through carefully cut and planned tunnels.

The only place, really, that was dark, was
the lower caverns. If this was Astar, the lower caverns would be
the edge of the city, right up against the city wall.

But it wasn’t Astar and there was no
wall.

They were in a vast network of caverns that
continued on for who knew how long. Messenger translated for Mr
Briggs as they looked around. Messenger had been here before.

‘This is where they harvest the cave mould.’
Messenger was saying to Mr Briggs.

The only light here was from the pale green
cave mould. Mostly, the cavern was a deep dark blue, fading to
black.

In the lightest dark, shadows could be seen
moving around. Like Astar, this was where the unwanted lived.

‘We’ve seen plenty of cave mould.’ Mr Briggs
said. ‘By that river, all over the place.’

‘That’s decoration.’ Messenger said,
inwardly cringing. Mr Briggs didn’t say anything, but he didn’t
have to for Messenger to be able to imagine his stern, disapproving
gaze.

‘So they’re collecting the cave mould.’ Mr
Briggs asked of the shadows. ‘We haven’t eaten any.’

‘They don’t eat cave mould in its raw form
here.’ Messenger said. ‘Sir, not even the beggars will eat raw cave
mould, please don’t say anything about it.’

Mr Briggs complied, his silence ominous.

They passed increasing numbers of poor and
homeless as they descended deeper into the mountain. The Speaker’s
attendants kept the poor far away from them.

In Astar, there were no beggars.

Every human life was valuable. How could it
not be in a world full of gemengs? Even those who could or would
not work were taken care of, partly with the hope that they could
one day rejoin in the defense of Astar. But if not, they were still
human. With the gemengs threatening to wipe them out at any time,
how could any human in need not be helped? They’d be
helping
the gemengs if they didn’t take care of their fellow humans.

Soon after, they were back in their chambers
to rest before dinner. Messenger dreaded what was coming.

‘Are these creatures human, Messenger?’ Mr
Briggs said in a dangerous voice once the door was closed.

‘Y-yes-’

‘How do you know?’ he demanded. ’They look
wrong. Have you ever seen a human with such black skin? No. They
behave like gemengs. They engage in wasteful nonsense and leave
their fellow ‘humans’ on the street to die. So tell me, how do you
know
?’

‘They say humans came in many colours once,
before the gemengs.’

Mr Briggs face clouded angrily. ‘There is no
before! There is only now!’

Messenger remained silent as Mr Briggs
glared him down.

‘Even so, how can you trust their words or
their knowledge?’

‘Sir, when I came here I was hurt, they
looked after me. If they were gemengs I would not be alive right
now.’

‘And, sir,’ Messenger swallowed, ‘I don’t
think they have as much trouble from the gemengs as we do. They say
they haven’t been attacked in a long time. Perhaps… perhaps that’s
why they-they can leave people living in such conditions as we
never would. They aren’t a people at war, not like us.’

Mr Briggs gazed at Messenger levelly. ‘How
is that so?’

‘There aren’t any gemengs near here. I
think… I think they killed all the ones near them. Did you notice
any near Cavachi? I never have.’

‘How is that so?’ He asked, grimly
curious.

Messenger hoped this was an improvement. If
Mr Briggs went back to Astar and told the council he thought the
Vachi were gemengs, it was all over.

This was also something Messenger had
thought about on his many trips to Cavachi. ‘Well, we developed our
weaponry enough to come out of the caves and fight the gemengs
around four hundred years ago, sir, but the Vachi seem to have done
that about two hundred years earlier. Also, they never really left
their caves. Cavachi must have been here in some form much longer
than that.’

‘But why would that be so? They are a
wasteful, foolish people. How is it they could have developed
faster than us?’

His tone told Messenger that Mr Briggs was
not yet convinced by his arguments. But it was better. It was
better.

He didn’t think Mr Briggs would appreciate
their vague stories of the valkar that provided an answer. And he
certainly wasn’t going to suggest luck, or that perhaps the Vachi
were just smarter than the Astarians.

‘Well, they had help. From other
people.’

Mr Briggs eyes locked onto Messenger. ‘Other
people. Are these humans too, Messenger?’

‘N-no, sir, but not gemengs either. They
believe a people called the valkar provided them with help when the
gemengs attacked.’

‘Who are these people? Where did they come
from?’

‘I’m not sure, sir.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘And they provided help
only to the Vachi? Not any of your multi-coloured humans? Why?’

‘Well, sir, the Vachi say the other… humans
were their enemies.’

‘I see.’

‘Sir,’ Messenger said with a touch of
desperation. Mr Briggs wasn’t convinced. Not enough. Not really.
‘Sir, we must look very strange to the Vachi, but they still took
care of me. They have welcomed us into their home and shared their
food with us. And even though they might be wasteful, what gemeng
could build what they do? How could a gemeng make the things we
have seen here? How?’

Something in Mr Briggs face changed and
softened somehow. Messenger felt something unknot inside him. At
least for now, Mr Briggs was willing to accept the Vachi as
human.

That night at dinner cave mould was served.
Or rather what was once, a long time ago, cave mould.

Mr Briggs eyed the wobbling mass
suspiciously. Inside the clear jelly were fresh, sweet berries. The
greenish colour was long gone, boiled away til only a gelatinous,
sticky substance remained. This was mixed with clear juices and a
variety of other things before being left in a cold place. What
remained after this process was a refreshing, sweet dessert that
went down as easily as a glass of water on a hot summer’s day.

The table was laid with a variety of other
desserts, some cold some hot, some sticky, some not. Messenger’s
favourite was the cave mould. Or what was once cave mould.

He sighed when he saw how Mr Briggs was
looking at it.

‘Cave mould is very nutritious.’ Mr Briggs
said.

Messenger saw the horrified look on Recha’s
face as he, thankfully, translated something entirely
different.

He wondered what would happen when a Vachi
representative came to Astar. The game would be up then. They’d see
a plain, unadorned city, with people from the top to the bottom
dressed the same and all eating cave mould.

Not even beggars in Cavachi ate cave
mould.

They’d find their new ‘friends’
barbarians.

Messenger’s mouth twisted in despair. Would
they be willing to put aside their ideas about what was right for
friendships sake? From what he knew of his own people and the
Vachi, he didn’t think so.

Who was to say which way was better? They
were different, that was all! Why could neither the Vachi or Mr
Briggs see that?!

Though perhaps, he hoped, Mr Briggs had been
convinced for a while. If he could be, maybe the Vachi could…

He sighed.

If they were served cave mould in Astar
they’d probably attack the city in recompense for the slander, he
thought morosely.

He spent the rest of the dinner in
despair.

‘Friend, what is wrong?’ Recha asked. He had
dropped back from the Speaker’s side to talk to Messenger.

Dinner was over. They were heading home for
the night.

Messenger gave Recha a hard look and
blurted, ‘we eat cave mould. All through winter, every day, all
day.’

Surprise flashed across Recha’s face and he
smiled. ‘Ah, I knew you were a strange man, friend, and yet you
still astonish me every time I see you.’

‘Recha, you must think we’re
barbarians.’

‘You are.’ he said, blinking his big dark
eyes owlishly. ‘You are my barbarian friend.’

Messenger felt a tingle of hope. ‘And what
will the rest of your people think?’

‘To us, you are children, savages. But to
the valkar we are the savages. They were our friends. It is a sign
of a civilized person to be kind to those less learned, less
civilized than you. A sign of a civilized people.’

Messenger didn’t really like his people
being thought of as less though he smiled anyway. ‘So you think an
alliance can work?’

Recha smiled. ‘It already is.’

Messenger smiled slyly. ‘Will we be meeting
Vearla this time?’ He grinned as Recha looked back blankly.
Perhaps, he thought, under the beautiful, sky blue robes of the
Speaker was a man like Recha. And if there was, perhaps they would
be ok after all.

Then Recha smiled and sighed. ‘Yes.’

Messenger was taken aback. ‘Really?’

Recha nodded. ‘She would like to see who
would become our friends.’

And if Vearla didn’t like them, Messenger
thought, that would end an alliance quicker than serving a Vachi
cave mould.

Chapter 31

Even Mr Briggs stopped in awe.

The song wound down through the tunnels.
Vearla’s song.

Suddenly it cut off.

She knew they were there.

Disappointment rose in Messenger, then he
saw the same look on Mr Briggs face, just for a second before it
vanished. Maybe, just maybe, that would be enough for Mr Briggs to
see… see that beauty was not a waste. That it added something
indefinable and indescribable. Something Astar would be better
with.