Shale's fist closed even tighter over his jasper, cursing himself for not having dropped it before he'd stepped out. "Bit o' pebble."
The man smiled. "Then you won't mind showing me, will you?"
Shale's whole body cried out his denial, yet under the unflinching gaze of those deep grey eyes he found himself holding out his hand, palm upwards, so that the jasper shone in the sunlight.
"Ah. That is a pretty gem. Give it here."
Shale was sure the man was going to steal it. And yet there was nothing he could do. A man on foot could not run from a pedeman; and no one could run from a zigger. If he refused, he would not only lose the gem; he could die. He approached the pede. " 'S mine," he said, defiant.
"Did I say it wasn't? Give it here."
Shale eyed the ziggers one more time and then handed the jasper up.
The man turned it over and over in his fingers, then held it up to the light. "Jasper," he said. "Of the type they call bloodstone. You found it today?"
Shale nodded.
"What will you do with it?"
"Sell it to a red-man gem hunter."
"Hmm. He will cheat you, I think. It is a fine specimen, and fossickers don't find too many these days. They sometimes call it the martyr's stone. Legend says the red inside is the blood spilled by the Watergiver when he was attacked by Gibbermen. The blood splashed on desert jasper, and each stone so stained is now a piece of bloodstone. A gem like this is worth about five hundred day tokens to a gem polisher on the streets of my city, and he would sell it polished and set for three times that, probably to the waterpriests. They are not only rich enough, but they believe such a stone to be holy. A gem hunter from a caravan should pay you at least three hundred. Don't take a token less. And if they quibble, tell them Taquar, Highlord of Scarcleft, told you that."
Shale gaped, wits scrambled. Highlord? Did that make him a rainlord? Was he then a god? Three hundred tokens? He tried to think how much that could buy.
The man bent in the saddle to hand the gemstone back. "Take care of it, Shale of Wash Drybone. You're unlikely to find another as good in your lifetime." He noted Shale's awe, and the amusement was open this time.
Shale took back the jasper, still reeling under the impact of all he had been told.
Rainlord Taquar turned from him, manipulating his reins.
The myriapede responded to the complex signal and started off, picking up speed and tucking its long antennae under the lower edge of its segments. Another twitch on a rein and it had straightened its legs, bringing them in line with the edge of its segments. This mode raised its under-belly higher from the ground so it could now run faster, untroubled by bumps and unevenness in the terrain. Shale stood looking after it, admiring the quick parallel ripples of the wall of legs as they flowed through the sand.
One day, he thought, I'm goin' t'get me a pede like that.
As he turned back to collect his resin bag, he considered what the man had said. Highlord? Maybe he was, but he wasn't a god. He was just a man like any other. An honest man, kind even. He could so easily have stolen the jasper and who would ever have believed Shale if he said so? And he need not have given the advice about its value.
Kindly, perhaps-but never soft. A man like that reeked of power that expected instant obedience.
Shale was not sure he wanted their paths to cross again. A Gibber boy like himself could be no more than a grain of sand before the wind when he came face-to-face with such a lord, be he god or man. "It's growing cold in here." Laisa looked around the tent with distaste. There were no chairs, just a heap of saddle cushions, a floor rug and the flat wooden circle of the low table they used when testing settlefolk. Iani placed covered water bowls on the table, his palsied hand shaking, while Taquar, Ryka and Kaneth watched and wondered if he would drop any.
No one said anything. They had become used to Laisa's complaints in the time since they had left the Scarpen, and had learned that it was unwise to agree with her. It only led to a litany of other complaints. It was even more unwise to contradict her because that either made her indignant or led to long sulks interspersed with sarcastic remarks aimed at the person who had uttered the contradiction.
"We should have a fire," Laisa added. "These desert nights are unbearable."
"I can't think of anything we could use to burn," Taquar said pleasantly. "Except maybe some of the dresses in the extensive wardrobe you brought with you, my dear."
She gave him a sharp glance to see if he mocked her or merely joked, but she could make nothing of the look on his face.
He went on, "I for one would have no objections to you wearing less."
"Nealrith might have something to say about that."
"Really?"
She played with the folds of the dress she had donned the moment her own tent had been erected on their arrival in Wash Drybone Settle. It was midnight-blue silk and matched her eyes and the sapphires in the pendant at her neck. She knew it suited her; she also knew that the looseness of the neckline enticed men's eyes. The rest of the garment was decorous, with full sleeves, skirt just above the ankles and a high back; she had long known the value of never showing too much at any one time. She ducked her head and looked up at Taquar from under her eyelashes, leaning forward just a little so that the neckline gaped. A tiny smile played at the edge of her lips, but all her performance elicited from Taquar was one raised eyebrow.
From across the room, Ryka snorted.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Laisa asked her, eyes flashing.
Ryka shot her a scornful glance. "If you really want a fire, we'll get you some pede droppings to burn, Laisa. Shit makes good fuel."
What might have developed into a longstanding feud was cut short by the arrival of Nealrith. He entered rubbing cold hands, oblivious to the tension in the tent. "Salted damn, but it's cold tonight. I have talked to the headman. Fellow called Rishan the palmier. And to the reeve as well. And you aren't going to believe this, but apparently the settlefolk think we are some kind of gods."
"Are you joking?" Ryka asked. She looked around at them all, her glance obviously adding up what she saw: Laisa's petulance, Iani with his stroke-ravaged face and limp, Kaneth's lazy insouciance, Taquar's sardonic grin. "Us? I must be the first short-sighted god in the history of mankind."
"Well, not exactly us. Rainlords and stormlords in general. They think-or they thought until we actually arrived-that rainlords are gods who supply water from the heavens."
Iani's eyes widened. "I'll be waterless! And where do the Sunlord and the Watergiver fit into all of this?"
"Minor gods of no importance, I gather."
Taquar gave a bark of laughter. "The waterpriests back in the Scarpen would love that. The Sunlord and his right hand reduced to an appendage of rainlords?"
"Not a bad concept, even so," Kaneth drawled. "I quite like the idea of being a deity. I fancy it would appeal to you, too, wouldn't it, Laisa-being a goddess?"
She ignored that. "And do they still think we are gods?"
"I've tried to disabuse them of the blasphemy, but among some of the more gullible it may not be so easy. On my way back to the tent, one of them prostrated himself in the street." Nealrith looked distressed. "I didn't know places as remote and as naively credulous as this could exist in the Quartern."
"And why not?" Taquar asked. "The Gibber folk in outlying areas are illiterate and ignored. Who ever comes here, apart from trading caravanners? This will be the first visit that any official from the Scarpen or the Cloudmaster has ever paid them. The only time a stormlord's administration shows an interest in the Gibber is when we want something from them. What did you expect?"
Nealrith flushed. "It is not as simple as that, and you know it, Taquar. Our quarter has very limited jurisdiction in other quarters."
"And the Gibber is no more than a collection of poverty-stricken settles and dust-clad towns eking out a living from an unforgiving desert. If you wanted to help them, you could. Who's to stop you? The Gibber has no central government, no armed guards, no central priesthood even."