Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (29 page)

Belstan
did not respond. While the bazaar was impressive, it was not that unusual. He
pondered Jeff’s origins again. He had become convinced the young man was from
the North. Now he wasn’t sure at all. He had never heard such an outlandish
tongue.

The
crowd grudgingly made way for the caravan as Belstan maneuvered it close to one
side of the plaza where the crowd seemed thinner. Jeff was so overwhelmed by
the bazaar that he hardly noticed the change of direction.

Smoke
rose from numerous stalls selling food, creating a roiling concoction of odors
that were entirely new and smelled so good his appetite went into high gear.
Vendors and shills hawking a hundred different shops and services shouted to be
heard. Beggars pulled at his stirrup with palm outstretched in supplication.
Jugglers, acrobats and sleight of hand artists gathered crowds of people, all
the while throwing, tumbling and bellowing their spiels.

Although
captivated by the bazaar, Jeff’ quickly diverted his attention to buildings
fronting the plaza. Women dressed in low-cut filmy gowns that hid nothing
shimmied and wiggled on second floor balconies along much of the plaza’s
length. Every so often, one or the other would stop to gesture or call down to
someone in the crowd below.

Seeing
him staring open-mouthed, one of the women plucked a flower from a rainbow
cascade and threw it to him, blowing a kiss as she did so. Jeff laughed shamefacedly
and waved. The woman, a stunning brunette, frowned down at him with hands on
hips. Jeff laughed again and cupped hands around his mouth.

“You
are beautiful. Perhaps another day.”

Several
streets beyond the bazaar they were confronted by the west gate. Belstan
greeted the guards by name and slipped a pouch of coins to the sergeant, who
waved the caravan ahead as he tucked it away. Hooves that had been muffled by
the packed dirt streets of Newtown abruptly clattered on paving stones.

“Brick
streets, and laid in patterns at that. Real sidewalks! This is astounding!”
Jeff looked around with delight. “I can’t believe this. Khorgan really is some
kind of city!”

Angry
shouts from up ahead reminded him of his duties. The street was twice as wide
as any in Rugen but still choked with traffic. Cynic liked a challenge and
hurried through the gridlock with deft moves and not very discreet shoulder
blocks. Ignoring the outraged curses that resulted, Jeff guided the caravan through
an intersection and immediately turned his attention back to the city.

Brick
buildings fronting the street were as tall as three stories. He had seen glass
windows in Rugen, but the large display windows they passed would have drawn no
criticism in Seattle. Elaborate signs and colorful bunting sprouted and twisted
over the doors of businesses along the street, drawing Jeff’s attention away
from wrought-iron lamp standards. Sidewalk cafes, open-air markets, the rumble
of traffic and crowd noise—energy filled the air.

Checking
to make sure the caravan was together, Jeff studied people on either side of
the street. They were dressed in such a bewildering variety of clothing that he
couldn’t pick out a dominant theme. Turbans and caftans, soldiers in a wild mix
of doublets and pantaloons, portly men dressed in broadcloth suits—the variety
seemed endless. While the variety in dress was less among women, the color of
their attire ran the rainbow’s spectrum. Long hair and long dresses tending to
the conservative seemed to be the trend.

Jeff
heard the jingle of horses coming up behind and had to give all his attention
to maneuvering the caravan to the side of the street. Shortly, twenty or so
dragoons passed at a quick trot. When the caravan was moving again, Jeff walked
Cynic to the front of the column.

“Belstan,
are those troopers part of an army or do they report to the city counsel?”

“Civil
Guard answering to the council,” Belstan replied sourly, “and a surly lot by
and large. Stay clear of them if at all possible, or have gold in your pocket
to buy your way free.”

The
afternoon was well along before they exited the eastern gate and turned onto
Marine Way. The lake side of the street was crowded with warehouses but Jeff
noticed that only in passing. A forest of masts stretched along the waterfront.

“Holy
shit, there must be hundreds of ships!” The caravan moved between two
warehouses, providing Jeff an unobstructed view of the lake. “Those aren’t
waves, they’re swells. It must be a real monster.”

Driven
by a storm far to the east, large swells pounded the seawall with spray
bursting over the top. Ships heaved and gyrated at their moorings, singing a
dolorous refrain as they ground against piers. Belstan grinned at Jeff’s
unbelieving expression.

“Lake
Ligura. Impressive, is it not?”

Jeff
could only nod agreement.

Lamps
were being lighted along the waterfront and the smell of cooking food spiced
the air. The crowd was boisterous, largely on foot and filing into taverns
along the street. Jeff cocked an ear to listen to music drifting from a nearby
inn. It sounded shrill as it wailed through a minor key, but fit in perfectly
with the sound of swells as they crashed into the seawall.

It
was dark when Belstan pointed to a brightly painted warehouse. “We have
arrived.”

Jeff
let out a piercing whistle and waved his arm in a circle to bunch up the
caravan. It had been a long deadly trip and everyone pitched in with a will to
see the end of it. The animals were stripped clean in record time. Jeff
gathered his crew around.

“Good
job, men. Let’s get these critters into the holding pen, then, by the gods,
it’s time to eat.”

Whistles
and shouts of agreement sounded at once. Jeff found a switch and whacked the
strange animals called kalks into motion. On the way by one of them tried to
bite him, but he jerked his arm away. Jeff recognized the animal as the same
one that had scored on him earlier in the day.

Balling
up a fist, he nailed the animal up alongside the head as he had been instructed
and it jerked away with a venomous hiss. In passing, however, and at the
critical moment, the kalk let out a thunderous fart. Jeff reeled back gasping
for air.

“Oh,
pig shit! What a smell!”

With
the crew howling laughter, Jeff took a running skip and kicked the animal in
the rump. It bounded into the holding pen with a bray that sounded quite
self-satisfied.

An
hour or so later Belstan located Jeff in the stable forking fresh hay into
Cynic’s manger.

 
“Will you join us for evening meal? My
partner is anxious to meet you.”

“With
pleasure.”

Jeff
ran an appraising eye over Rogelf while accepting a cup of coffee. The agent
was big in every dimension, with huge arms and massively rounded shoulders. He
also had a large belly, but it looked to be as much muscle as fat. About five
ten, Rogelf was balding and had piercing hazel eyes. They clasped hands.

“Welcome,
Jeefry. May the gods spit on your enemies for saving my old friend’s goods, not
to mention his carcass.”

“It
was a near thing, but we got through it.”

Rogelf
nodded emphatically. “Too near a thing, young man.” He waved Jeff toward a
table crowded with food. Overhead, a brass lantern swayed in the cool breeze
wafting through open windows facing the lake.

Although
his appetite was ferocious, Jeff forced himself to eat at a deliberate pace and
with attention to manners. Shoveling food down like he did around campfires
would never do. Throughout the meal, conversation flowed in staccato bursts
between Rogelf and Belstan. Rogelf’s expression showed real concern when the
topic entered the realm of politics.

“The
taxes, my friend, the taxes! Shortly after your departure west, the council
seemed to go mad. I have lived in this city all my life, but have never been so
hard pressed. Import duties, city taxes, export taxes, head taxes, food taxes.
There is no end to them!”

Belstan
stopped chewing and stared at Rogelf. “Surely the council knows they will
destroy their own house if businesses fail? Faced with these new taxes, I am
certain that many will do just that.”

With
a massive shrug, Rogelf threw his hands wide. “How can they not be aware of the
danger? Yet there seems to be more than simple greed at the heart of this. My
agents report a sense of close-lipped fear among the counselors. But fear of
what? Business is good. The piers are filled with ships from the east and
south. Caravans pour into the city every day.” Rogelf shook his head in
perplexity. “While tax revenues must be enormous, to what end? Destruction of
the very thing that makes our city great? Its commerce?”

Sighing
hugely, Rogelf dished himself another slab of meat and set to work on it while
Belstan cogitated. Jeff tried to sort probabilities, but with a full meal in
his stomach couldn’t do much more than yawn. Rogelf noticed Jeff’s condition
and had an employee show him to sleeping quarters inside the warehouse.

Jeff
was wide-awake shortly after dawn and looking for his boots. When he realized
where he was, in Khorgan and not on the trail, it was too late to get back to
sleep. Slipping quietly out of the warehouse, he fed Cynic and set out on foot
northward along the shore.

Fascinated
by the gangs of stevedores, impressed by the huge freight wagons rumbling along
wooden piers and enchanted by the haunting calls of sea birds, Jeff soon lost
track of time. Drawn like a magnet to the fleet of ships heaving in the swell
as they lay moored bow and stern, he wandered from pier to pier. Along the way
he made the acquaintance of an old gaffer, long retired from the sea. Delighted
with Jeff’s interest, the gaffer took him by the arm and hobbled off toward the
nearest ship spinning tales as he went.

Jeff
eventually noticed how high the sun was, bought the old-timer a farewell beer
and meandered toward Rogelf’s warehouse. Belstan was waiting out front
anxiously peering up and down the street. He dragged Jeff inside as if he were
an errant child.

“Thank
the gods! Where have you been, boy?” He waved an agitated finger under Jeff’s
nose. “This waterfront is not a place to be taken lightly. Before you venture
out again, allow me to provide a guide else you be found floating face down in
the lake.”

Belstan
eventually ran out of grisly examples and they sat down for the noon meal.

“Rogelf
seemed quite concerned last night. Is something amiss?”

Lost
in thought, Belstan silently chewed a particularly tough piece of meat until he
got the better of it.

“The
council is aroused, even fearful,” he said in a puzzled tone of voice, “and
that is cause for deep concern when you consider the size of the Civil Guard.
When last I had cause to investigate, the city had two thousand well-trained
soldiers under arms, and another five thousand militia quickly available.”

“That
does seem to be an adequate force considering the city is peaceful and we have
heard nothing of an outside threat.”

“Yet
the council is aroused. It is extremely vexing and the tax situation nothing
short of ruinous. Rogelf and I considered this for a good portion of last night
but found no sensible explanation. While banditry is always of concern, other
caravans arriving have not reported unusual activity on that score. Also,
having just returned from the West I am aware of no threat from that quarter.”
Belstan’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Arzak is never to be trusted, but
Rogelf has heard nothing that would rouse suspicion.”

“And
yet, as you say, the council is aroused.”

“To
a degree Rogelf has never before witnessed, Jeffrey. This is the heart of our
concerns: Rogelf’s agents are as good as any yet report only that those serving
the council refuse to say anything even when offered large bribes.” Belstan
muttered darkly, “When a substantial bribe will not loosen jaws in this city,
something is seriously awry.”

“Any
reports of unusual emissaries at council meetings?”

Beady
eyes snapping with sudden interest, Belstan stared at Jeff. “Please explain
yourself, young man.”

Gazing
thoughtfully at Belstan, Jeff considered options. “As you have already
surmised, I am not simply a mercenary looking for work. Before I say more about
what I believe is taking place, I want you to think about that and whether you
want to have me in your employ.”

As
he had on prior occasion, Belstan strove to place Jeff’s origins. Also as in
the past, he failed. Getting up, Belstan paced around the room for a period
then re-seated himself and glowered at Jeff.

“I
have traded around this country for over thirty years. In that time I have
never suffered such confusion as I now do. Suddenly you make an appearance,
contrive to save everything I have labored to build, and then present this to
me!”

Belstan
jumped to his feet and resumed pacing. Not inclined to displays of emotion, he
gave the impression of someone who would dearly love to kick some furniture.