“She’s a child still. No harm,” said Ribek, obviously relishing his role as official protector of the two women. Huh! Maja thought. We’ll see what Saranja has to say about that!
“Spiced pumpkin bread for breakfast, Maja,” said Ribek. “He’s got a traveling larder in those saddlebags of his. I’ll toast you some.”
It was as near heaven as Maja could imagine, lying in the morning sun—still welcome after the night chill of the desert—with Ribek feeding little squares of Striclan’s toasted pumpkin bread, oozing with wild honey, between her lips. Funny name. Funny man. She could sense his oddness through Jex’s mild shielding. Forcing herself into something like wakefulness, she concentrated on the stranger.
Yes, there he was in his magical essence, just as she’d have expected, busy, eager, interested, self-confident, like quick, cheerful, clever music, music to dance to. But under that, almost unnoticeable beneath the surface dazzle and fizz, something much slower, much more deep and thoughtful, like huge cloud-islands drifting along on a summer day, grand and calm, but full of hidden thunder.
Interesting, but not now. Too tired.
She slept dreamless, and woke again, this time in the evening cool. Her left forearm, lying close beside her cheek, had a pleasant, pungent smell and was faintly greasy to the touch. She eased herself up without a twinge and looked around.
Something had woken her—Ribek’s voice, “Hold it!” and a sudden rush of movement.
Benayu was asleep beside her, as if he had never woken. Beyond him, Saranja had been grooming Pogo, but had just turned and was staring over Maja’s shoulder. She dropped her brush and broke into a run. Maja too turned.
Ribek was there, sprinting toward three people a little distance away. One of the men was the stranger, Striclan, who’d been talking to Ribek about water mills when Maja had first woken. The other two were squat, dangerous-looking men. Each of them had a knife in his hand. Striclan was holding his staff across his body in both hands as if he was about to try and push them away with it. He gave it a quick twist and it came apart. One piece fell to the ground. He flicked the short piece in his left hand at one of the men. A cloud of powdery stuff shot into the man’s face and he staggered back, coughing and choking. The other man had dropped his knife and was backing away because the point of the narrow sword Striclan held in his right hand was pricking into his throat. Ribek slowed, reached them, picked up the two knives and said something to Striclan, who nodded, apparently unperturbed. He spoke briefly to the second man, who walked off, cursing, to help his friend.
Striclan picked up the fallen section of staff and slid the sword blade into it, screwed the bit that had held the powder back into place and was holding his staff again. Saranja joined them and they walked back together to where Maja was sitting.
“…on the open road, in lonely places, perhaps,” Striclan was saying. “But in my experience Imperial way stations are much too well run to allow this sort of thing to happen. The authorities in Talagh…”
“They seem to have lost their hold for the moment,” said Ribek. “They’re too busy with what’s happening around Tarshu, I suppose. You know about Tarshu, I gather.”
“To say I know would be an exaggeration. I was hoping to go to Tarshu, but was turned away, with no reason given. Since then I have heard only rumors, but they have been consistent enough to compose a truthful scenario. The city is said to be under seaborne attack by invaders generally referred to as pirates, though they appear to be much more disciplined and organized than any pirates I have had the misfortune to encounter….”
“Where we come from, we call them Sheep-faces,” said Ribek.
Striclan giggled, mysteriously delighted. He fished a little pad and stylus out of his pouch.
“That’s good. That’s very good indeed,” he said. “I must make a note. But surely that means that someone in your area must have met, or at least seen, some of them, in order to bestow a visual sobriquet upon them. You told me your mill was among the northern mountains, whereas I understood this incursion to be a purely coastal affair….”
“Just rumors, same as you,” said Ribek. “A sort of flying ship with a human crew exploring the passes into the Empire. Fierce fighting the other side of the Great Desert. That sort of thing.”
Striclan nodded, apparently accepting this as a perfectly good explanation, and made another note on his pad. But Maja had sensed a sudden stirring of his deeper, other self, as if what Ribek had told him had been much more interesting and important than a few improbable rumors from a remote corner of the Empire.
“And that unpleasant phenomenon we encountered last night?” he said. “Some of the others here in the way station escaped much as I did, thanks to Miss Saranja here. They are talking of it having been a demon of some kind. Furthermore, travelers from the south reported that some kind of storm demon had recently attacked the city of Larg, and been driven off by magical means. I had been under the impression that demons, if they ever existed, were a phenomenon of the distant past, of the same order as rocs and unicorns, but the consensus seemed to be much what you were saying about that pair of thugs just now, that these two, and perhaps others, had emerged because the relevant authorities were preoccupied with the struggle around Tarshu. Can that be the case?”
“It was a demon all right, wasn’t it, Saranja?” said Ribek. “Or you wouldn’t have been able to deal with it.”
“I suppose so.”
Striclan was writing on his pad again, and seemed not to notice the grudgingness of her tone, and the slight headshake. Ribek answered with a nod and a hand gesture to say he knew what he was doing.
“And the possibility of one’s encountering further such, ah, creatures?”
“Last time it happened, far as I know, was several hundred years ago. It wasn’t quite like this, as what you call the authorities are still there, only they’re busy at Tarshu. That time they’d been pretty well wiped out, and suddenly there were demons everywhere. Even so, I wouldn’t think this one and the one at Larg can be the only ones.”
“Ah. In that case, how would you feel about my traveling for a while, if not in your company, at least in your general vicinity? I’m afraid this may seem an impertinent request on so short an acquaintance, but let me explain. I am employed by a wealthy scholar, who has dedicated his life to compiling an encyclopedia describing all the various peoples of the Empire. He is particularly interested in their beliefs about, and interactions with, magical and other paranormal phenomena. No single man could complete such a task in a lifetime, so he employs me, and others like me, to investigate and report on allotted areas, and he then collates our reports. I joined the Highway a little north of here, having completed an investigation of the desert tribes, and was on my way to Larg to dispatch my report. But I was very alarmed by our encounter with that creature last night, and if others of that kind are likely to beset the Highway, I would prefer to be in the company of someone who is equipped to deal with them, as Miss Saranja so evidently is.”
“We weren’t going to Larg, I’m afraid,” said Ribek. “We’re traveling north.”
“I can equally well send my report from Farfar. I shall have to go there in the end. But please don’t feel that you are under any obligation to agree. The obligation is wholly on my side. And of course I won’t ask you to make up your minds on the instant. I must water my poor mule, and perhaps we can meet later this evening and you can tell me what you’ve decided.”
“Of course,” said Ribek, rising with him. Striclan bowed to Saranja, raised a hand in farewell and turned away. They waited for him to move out of earshot.