Page 117 of Dragon Avenger (Age of Fire 2)

A thought struck Wistala. “The form of the wealth doesn’t matter?”

It took a moment for her words to register. “Well, the thane is entitled to assess the value of anything that isn’t Hypatian coin. What do you have in mind?”

“Another expedition.”

Chapter 15

A moon and a blustery week of storms later—five weeks as the hominids reckoned things—Rainfall and a group of local men and boys stood on one of the wall-crossed hills of Tumbledown, speaking with the local shepherds and farmers.

And Stog, incredibly.

Stog stood in this distant field with some other working beasts, all muddy, thin, and miserable.

The expedition had come to fruition easily enough. Wistala, after looking at a map and taking a trip to the nearest hilltop with a good view south of the bridge, decided that the same road Rainfall had in his charge cut through near Tumbledown—or Hesstur, as Rainfall insisted on calling it.

“One of the eight sister cities from the founding of Hypat,” Rainfall explained after Wistala described the three hills and wet ground in between. “It was burned in one of the barbarian wars.”

A good deal more history followed this, but without being able to see the battles and kings and generals and so on Rainfall spoke of, the names and dates left Wistala’s head almost as soon as they entered it. If only hominids could pass mind-pictures down!

Rainfall had no difficulty pulling together some men and their sons for the trip. The killing of the troll had given Rainfall something of a local reputation, Wistala guessed, and it even attracted one of the thanedom’s low priests. She seemed a sturdy woman, in her black robe and tassled hat, white hair at her temples making the rest of her black hair, cut so evenly at the bottom, it might be mistaken as a helmet, look darker.

Wistala had to watch it all from a distance. Her presence had to be kept hidden for her—and Rainfall’s—safety.

They made quite a procession. Thick-shouldered farmers and their thicker-shouldered horses, Jessup with a smart new leather work apron driving his cart loaded with feed for hominid and animal, the low priest with boys in tow, showing them strange roadside mushrooms, flowers, and berries. Rainfall walked at the head, wearing layers of heavy traveling clothes, leather-fringed sandals, a cloak, and even a short, slightly curved sword with a guard at the hilt.

She traveled ahead of the group on the overnight journey south, moving before dawn and after dusk and sleeping out the day while the others caught up. Now and then she met with Rainfall on the road a little ahead of the party. The journey was uneventful, save for some boys throwing dung-balls from cover as they passed through a muddy village. One clod hit Rainfall in the thigh.

“Wish I’d seen that,” Wistala said.

“Boys being boys. Their parents should soap their tongues until they learn civil expression, though,” Rainfall said. “ ‘Elvish maggot.’ Right in the heart of the village, too. An old woman bowed and apologized for the insult. Perhaps it was the star.”

Wistala had not seen the golden device before. It had eight short points around the edge and a blue jewel at the center. Some mark of his status as the bridge-keeper and road-warden, she guessed.

So, led by Rainfall’s star, they came to Tumbledown and saw the field with Stog.

The low priest—her name was Feeney—and Rainfall conducted the negotiations with the locals of Tumbledown. Then both sides withdrew, the newcomers to their tents with a purchased sheep, the shepherds and smallholders to their cottages and ricks and cots.

Rainfall wandered the woods until Wistala caught up to him. They sat together on an old wall dividing one part of identical forest from another.

“I let Mod Feeney do the talking. We will split whatever we find exactly in half with the locals. They claim that the ruins have been explored a dozen times a generation, and that they’ve been stripped to the last lumik.”

“Lumik?”

“A bit of art that throws off light when you rub it.”

“Then they’re doubly wrong. I’ll show you one when we enter. I saw Stog in with the other animals.”

“What other—? Oh, the farmers and so on?”

“Yes,” Wistala said. “I didn’t dare approach. There were horses, and I was afraid they’d scream their heads off.”

“You are certain? Many mules look alike.”

“Yes. Though he looked thin and dirty.”

“I’ll try to buy him back tomorrow.”

The stupid beast didn’t deserve Rainfall’s kindness. “I’ll see if I can talk to him during the day tomorrow,” Wistala said. “Assuming they don’t have him pulling loads of rocks or whatever work these humans do.”

---