Rebels of Akrona

Part Seven

by G. Lawrence

Renegades and Rescuers

After seven years as a slave, a soldier from Earth escaped into the mountains and began raising an army. Rebels of Akrona is being told in eight parts.

Recap: The Liberation is extending its influence into new lands, but all is not peaceful.

* * * * * *

Chapter Eleven (continued)

REBELLIONS

"Is this the valley we're searching for?" Garn asked, reining in his sturdy gray mare.

"According to the grid," Berlie replied, checking his map.

"I see smoke," Lawso announced, pointing toward the south side of a broad blue river.

"That could be the town," Garn said, using field glasses.

The three young men had come far from their base, crossing the Green Belt to valleys west of Liberation territories. The region was hilly, with thick forests and broad pastures.

"The hornfeet have many settlements in this region," Garn recalled. "Akeem wishes to know what resources they offer. And how much resistance to expect."

"Taba is generous to let us ride ahead of the column," Berlie said, taking a drink from his canteen.

"Rogo'shan is said to be peaceful," Garn explained. "If we can extend the Liberation to these valleys, Akeem thinks all of the Green Belt settlements will submit."

"My father says the hornfeet need to be driven back, not allowed to dwell on good land," Lawso complained.

"My father says that, too," Berlie added. "He doesn't understand why we make peace with hornfeet instead of killing them."

"Do you defy Akeem?" Garn asked.

"None defy Akeem," Berlie quickly said. "We just don't understand why he indulges our enemies."

"Maybe it's not your place to understand. Or to criticize," Garn said, urging his horse forward.

It was a complaint Garn had heard many times, and knew it was hard to explain. Now fourteen, he was the youngest of the group, and also the leader, having the most experience traveling strange lands. Tall for his age, he handled his mount like a veteran. Berlie and Lawso, both sixteen, had not ventured so far from home before. All three were typical of Liberation rangers. Strong, vigorous, and adventurous.

"Let's take a closer look," Garn said, moving his horse forward.

They emerged from the woods on a brushy ridge overlooking the village. It appeared prosperous. The village square was surrounded by brick buildings, several large wooden warehouses, and an outdoor theater carved in limestone. But something wasn't right.

"It's Toshaba's militia. They've set fires," Lawso said, pointing toward the square.

Garn saw it was true. A mounted militia, about forty in all, was raiding the village. Three structures were on fire. The sound of an occasional pellet gun echoed through the cobblestone streets. Several Arikhan lay dead near their shrine.

"Lawso, report to Taba at once. Tell him what we've seen," Garn ordered. "Berlie, stay close. Say nothing."

Lawso asked no questions, turning his horse toward the back trail. Exactly where the command was couldn't be known for sure, but they'd seen the column early that morning.

Garn took out his communicator, but as expected, the signal was too weak. Riding to higher ground would take half an hour, and he didn't think he had that much time.

"Follow me," Garn said, riding down the hill to the road and turning toward the village.

The militia seemed to be taking a pause. Garn saw four slain Arikhan, two of them young males, the others older females.

"Who is your commander?" Garn asked, reining in near the slender marble shrine. It was a tribute to Mi'Nera, the Goddess of Far Travelers. A popular totem among the more remote settlements.

"I am Toshaba. These are my men," the burly commander said. He wore rough brown leather and a short red beard. The cold black eyes were distrustful. "Who are you?"

"You're not supposed to attack the hornfeet towns. Akeem has forbidden it," Garn said.

"We reclaim our lands," Toshaba said. "I ask again, who are you?"

"I'm Garn, a captain of the Liberation," Garn answered.

"That means nothing here. We've sworn no allegiance to your false god," another of the militia grumbled. His black headband bore a yellow ax, marking him as second-in-command.

"Which you'll regret," Berlie said, a hand rested on his pistol.

"I am Devalit, and we regret nothing," a burly barbarian said.

Toshaba stood back, appraising the unwelcome company, and made a few gestures to his men. Several raiders mounted and rode off.

"Where have the hornfeet gone?" Garn asked.

"Hiding in the caves, but not for long," a young militiaman answered, drawing a dark glance from Toshaba.

Garn studied the raiders the way he knew Grey would. Numbers. Weapons. Readiness. There were too many to challenge.

"Berlie," Garn whispered.

"Yes?" Berlie said.

"Follow me. Ride like a comet," Garn whispered.

Garn kicked his horse, charging through a group of forest militia toward the west side of town. Berlie rode right behind him, needing no explanations. The horses were well-trained, responding with great speed. In seconds they were turning off the main boulevard and passing through a borough of rock cottages. The blue river lay to their right, forested hillsides on the left. They burst into a stone quarry where two startled sentries were on duty. The caves were at the foot of a steep cliff.

"This way," Garn said.

They rode past the guards into the largest cave, the daylight quickly disappearing. There was no pursuit.

"Stop. Stop or we will shoot," an Arikhan voice shouted from the darkness.

"Do not shoot. We are friends," Garn replied in perfect Arikhan.

He and Berlie dismounted, leading their horses deeper into the cave. Beyond a twist in the rock wall, they saw torches. There were at least a hundred refugees, old, young and very young. They seemed terrified.

"My name is Garn. I have summoned help. We will protect this cave until it arrives."

"We were unprepared," an older male said. "All we have are shovels."

"And rocks," a young female said, a stone tightly gripped in her claw. They were all commoners. Garn knew they'd find no blue cheeks so far from the Arikhan cities.

"We are prepared," Berlie said, his Arikhan spoken poorly. He pulled an Arikhan energy rifle from the boot of his saddle. Garn produced an energy pistol.

"Why did you attack us?" an older female asked.

"You were attacked by renegades," Garn said. "Do you have food? Water?"

"Water. Little food," their leader said. "I am Logartro, Magistrate of Rogo'shan. This is Madaratron, our priestess. Is help really coming?"

"I have summoned Akeem," Garn promised.

"Akeem," many in the cave whispered, most in dread.

"It may be some time before Akeem arrives. If we need food, we will eat our horses," Garn said.

"Not my horse," Berlie objected.

"I don't wish to see Kansas harmed either," Garn said, responding in Akronian. "But sometimes such sacrifices are necessary. It's the price a soldier pays."

"To save hornfeet?" Berlie asked.

"To do our duty," Garn replied, stroking the snout of his horse with sorrow.

The Arikhan were quiet. They had apparently seen horses before and knew the animals held a special bond with their riders.

Organizing a defense, Garn had mining crates piled across the inner side of the cave. With a deep interior, there was room for the refugees to spread out. Garn and Berlie took turns on guard. Hours passed. And then there was a voice.

"Come out. You won't be harmed," Toshaba shouted.

"Come in. We won't harm you," Garn harshly answered.

The Arikhan were shocked by Garn's tone. They knew him to be young. How could he speak so to an elder?

"We have you trapped," Toshaba said.

Berlie was about to respond with equal defiance, but Garn stopped him.

"Ride on, militia captain. Ride on now," Garn said.

There was no answer. Garn knew he had no intention of riding on.

"What are they doing?" Madaratron inquired.

"They wait for us to make a mistake, which we will not do," Garn replied. "Akeem is wise in the methods of war. He trains the Liberation in the ways of Ra' Pall."

"He is such a warrior?" a young villager asked.

"He is," Garn replied. "Are there followers of Mordari in your village?"

"Some hear her words. Others are not sure," Madaratron said.

"I once met the Voice of Sherra," Garn said. "She came to our camp at Karak and gave hope to my people. Sherra protected us, and now she will protect you."

"Blessed be the Will of Sherra," the villagers chanted.

The cave settled into a routine. Younger Arikhan came forward, some of them only seven or eight orbits old, to give Garn and Berlie water, making small talk. Garn helped with the translating. Berlie laughed many times.

"I am Sofertron," a graceful young female said, delivering blankets. She had smooth brown skin and large black eyes. The fine reddish membrane around her head was soft and flowing. She was speaking Akronian, but hesitantly. "Today was my first day as a teacher. My class was in the quarry when the food-creatures... when we were attacked."

"We are sorry that happened," Garn apologized.

"My name is Berlie," Berlie said, intrigued by her foreign accent. "I did not realize hornfeet--your people had teachers."

"It's how we learn," Sofertron replied, dipping delicate eye-rings.

"I've had teachers, too," Berlie said.

"How do they teach?" Sofertron asked.

"We sit in classrooms and they tell us things," Berlie answered.

"We teach outdoors, at one with the spirits," the Arikhan said.

As the afternoon grew late, several elders arrived asking many questions about the Liberation. Garn patiently answered all of them. After they left, Sofertron returned with a few nuts warmed over a fire. When Berlie groaned while removing his boots, she massaged his tired feet, her claws digging deep into the bones. Sofertron stayed for nearly an hour before turning in.

"I apologize, Garn," Berlie said as the night grew quiet. "I thought the hornfeet were soulless cannibals. I see them better now."

"If you'd ridden at Akeem's side as long as I have, you'd know more of them. We don't always make friends, but the hornfeet are a civilized race. Most of them."

"I hope Akeem arrives soon."

"Still have those rations on your saddlebag?"

"Yes, but I'm thinking we should share them."

"That's generous," Garn said.

"Better than eating my horse," Berlie replied.

Darkness fell outside the cave. They saw campfires beyond the quarry, but no activity. Then, just before midnight, a shadowy figure crept forward.

"Don't fire," the man whispered with a strong forest accent. "I'm coming in."

Garn recognized one of the militia men. He was in his early forties, broad-shouldered, with wavy brown hair. His green outfit was frayed by many weeks on the trail. The man was dragging heavy sacks.

"I'm Arbor of Cagamont. I bring food."

"Poisoned food," Berlie said.

"On my honor," Arbor replied.

"Enter," Garn granted.

Logartro and Madaratron came forward, opening the sacks to sniff the contents.

"The smell is correct," Madaratron said. "These breads are from my bakery."

The food was taken inside, the younglings fed first. Garn and Berlie each took a bread roll, though Berlie waited for Garn to taste it. It was made with wheat, berries, mosquitoes, and honey.

"Why the bounty? Has your leader changed his mind?" Garn asked.

"Toshaba knows nothing of this, and I'll be accused of disloyalty when he finds out," Arbor said. "But what he's done here is wrong. It's wrong and I've said so."

"Will you fight with us?" Berlie said.

"I'd rather not fight my own people," Arbor answered.

"Akeem will arrive soon," Garn promised.

"My uncle, Taba, is with him. He leads four troops of rangers," Berlie bragged.

"He might not be here soon," Arbor warned. "Toshaba suspected you had a messenger and sent riders after him. Your friend is captive now. Bones were broken."

"What did you do to my cousin?" Berlie asked.

"Devalit claims it was self-defense. He said the boy resisted. But he's still hurt," Arbor explained.

"There will be no help?" Logartro said, sensing the mood without knowing the language.

"It may take a little longer," Garn said. "Arbor, what's your leader's plan?"

"They're gathering wood. They hope to build a fire at the mouth of the cave and smoke you out."

Garn walked toward the center of the cavern and raised his arms, sensing a draft from the back.

"We have sufficient air," he announced.

"How can you know that?" Logartro asked.

"I know the mountain," Garn said.

There was nothing to do but wait. Garn had seen Toshaba's weapons and knew they were no match for a Liberation energy rifle, but the power cells wouldn't last long. Perhaps Toshaba knew that, too. Or maybe he hoped to capture the weapon for himself.

The day passed. A bonfire failed to fill the cave with smoke. Some burning rags were thrown in wrapped around rocks but quickly extinguished. Garn fired his pistol a few times as a warning. Night fell again.

"The bread is a blessing, food-creature," Logartro said to Arbor, Garn translating.

"I'm not a food-creature. I'm a man of the forest," Arbor replied.

"We apologize, man of the forest," Madaratron said, her eye-rings dipping. "We know little of your people. Our village does not trade in slaves. Until last year, we had not even seen horse riders."

"Rangers have been here before?" Garn questioned.

"A few."

"You will see more," Berlie said.

"I fear that is true," Logartro lamented, tongue lashing in sadness. "Garn, what does Akeem expect of us? Must we abandon our homes? Flee to Va'ragashant?"

"If you live in peace with the Liberation, there will be prosperity. No pledge of loyalty to Akeem is required, but you must obey his laws."

"There is no joy in obeying the decrees of a food-creature, but the Contingent has failed us," Logartro conceded.

"Rogo'shan is not a military outpost," Madaratron explained. "We built our village far from the cities to live free of blue blood stress. And grow prosperous, if it be Sherra's Will. We want no trouble."

"There is always trouble," Garn warned.

An hour after dawn, there was noise from outside. Running. Shouting. Horses. Garn yawned, drew his pistol, and stood at the barricade. Berlie was already alert, holding the energy rifle. Three young Arikhan males stood with him holding shovels, and Sofertron holding a rock. Arbor stayed farther back in the cave, armed with a bow and arrows, ready to protect the Arikhan children.

"Are they going to rush us?" Berlie asked.

"They might," Garn said, priming his pistol.

"I've never shot one of our own people before," Berlie said. "I've never shot anyone."

"The first time is hard. Remember your training," Garn counselled.

For a time, they wondered if Toshaba intended to attack or if he was just hoping to intimidate them. But Garn soon reached a different conclusion.

"Akeem is here," Garn announced, stepping over the crates.

"How do you know?" Berlie asked.

"Listen."

There was a sound in the distance. A bugle. A bugle answered by bugles.

"Flank. Flank. Charge. Recall," Berlie said, identifying the signals.

"What should we do?" Logartro asked.

"We will wait a few more minutes, then I will tell Akeem where you are," Garn answered.

"I should go with you, in case Toshaba has prevailed," Arbor said.

Garn said nothing to that, not wishing to be disrespectful.

"Everyone to the back of the cave," Garn said. "Berlie, be alert. Don't come unless I call you. What bird whistles from the treetop?"

"The treetop whistles on its own," Berlie said, confirming the password.

Garn walked to the mouth of the cave cautiously, sidearm ready. Arbor was a step behind. The quarry proved empty, but then they heard activity in the town five hundred yards away. Garn went forward alone, moving cautiously through the village, and returned to the cave twenty minutes later.

"It is safe. You can come out now," Garn said. "The treetop whistles on its own."

There was hesitancy at first. Though the young food-creature appeared trustworthy, the possibility of treachery could not be dismissed. After a brief consultation, Madaratron led the way, the priestess squinting as she emerged into the morning sun.

"Her'ret riders," she said, pointing toward a group of rangers watching from a hill.

As the villagers made their way back to town, they saw more. Some of the rangers were mounted, most weren't. Horses were being watered in the river. When the villagers reached the town square, the number of food-creatures grew to a hundred. All were dressed in khaki uniforms trimmed in green and leather boots. Holsters carried pistols. They wore broadbrimmed campaign hats.

But one of the horse riders was different. He was dressed in a loose gray uniform sitting atop a powerful black stallion. Beneath his floppy hat was a grim face framed by a mass of graying brown hair and a short beard. The eyes shone with great displeasure.

In the middle of the square, surrounded by the forbidding army, were the renegade militiamen. Disarmed. On their knees. Heads hung low. Toshaba and Devalit had their hands tied behind their backs.

Garn was relieved to see Lawso resting on a porch, a bandage around his head and his arm in a sling. Berlie rushed to help. Sofertron found an Arikhan medical kit and knelt at Lawso's side. When Lawso resisted, Berlie assured him it was all right. Grey saw the villagers approach and dismounted.

"Who is your mayor?" he asked in clearly phrased Arikhan, though the accent was milder than Garn's.

"I am the magistrate," Logartro said, holding up an unclenched claw.

"I am Akeem. The Liberation's decrees are well-known. Only towns that maintain pens to slaughter my people may face our wrath. Do you have such pens?"

"We have no such pens," Logartro replied. "We never have."

"The magistrate speaks true, Akeem," Leena said. "Lopota's scouting reports confirm it."

Grey paused to look at the captured raiders before returning his attention to the villagers.

"Citizens of Rogo'shan, I beg your forgiveness for what these men have done. They will be punished."

"Punished for slaying the superior race?" a young Arikhan asked, standing behind Logartro holding his shovel.

"They will be punished for raiding against orders, arson, and murder," Akeem said.

Many looked around, both human and Arikhan. The Arikhan did not believe the declaration sincere. Akeem's soldiers looked sad but determined. The prisoners appeared frightened.

Grey stared down at Toshaba, a hand poised on his pistol.

"For four years, I've sought peace with the frontier settlements, and you throw it away? For what? Hornfeet equipment? Tools? A thirst for blood?"

"All hornfeet must die. I swear to the gods they will never have peace," Toshaba answered.

"Leena, make a note. I amend the charge against Toshaba to include treason," Grey directed. "Conapt, throw a rope over a branch of the large tree we passed. Turk, Byrne, Trustan, find a wagon for the gallows."

They rushed off.

"Don't think to scare me. You have no authority in these lands," Toshaba disputed.

Grey turned to watch the expressions of the Arikhan. They may not have understood the language of the forest, but they knew there was serious work afoot. Madaratron drew Garn aside to translate.

"Akeem sentences the raiders to death," Garn explained.

"All of them?" Logartro asked.

"He has not said yet," Garn replied.

Word was passed among the villagers, causing them to move closer for a better view. The Liberation soldiers were calm. Disciplined. A formidable force. The raiders looked shockingly small now. Most looked for escape, but there was none.

"Who is sergeant-at-arms today?" Grey inquired.

"I am," Clagg said, standing near a group of veteran warriors.

"Will you take the duty?" Grey asked.

"I will take the duty, Akeem," Clagg said, leading his troop toward the militia leader.

"No. What are you doing?" Toshaba shouted.

"Taking you to hang, traitor. Make peace with the gods," Clagg answered as the men grabbed Toshaba's arms and dragged him away.

"The other, too. The sub-leader," Grey indicated, pointing to Devalit.

"No, not me! I was only following orders," Devalit cried.

"You should have obeyed Akeem," Leena responded, listing his name on her recorder.

To the astonishment of the Arikhan, they watched a dozen liberators put the militia leaders on a wagon and loop ropes around their necks. The condemned men protested to the end. Devalit began to weep. And then the wagon was rolled away, leaving the two villains hanging. They squirmed at first, their legs kicking. And then there was no movement. A light wind kicked up, causing the bodies to sway in the breeze.

"What of the rest?" Taba asked.

"Let them draw stones," Grey replied.

The decision was anticipated. Leena and Byrne had gathered a canvas sack filled with rocks. Clagg stood before the prisoners.

"Each of you will draw a stone from the bag," Clagg instructed. "There are four black stones. Those who draw the black stones will be hanged. The rest of you will return home in shame, without weapons or horses. If you ever rise against Akeem again, we will burn your village to the ground."

All looked to Akeem, who nodded. He was not in a merciful mood. Garn noticed Arbor standing to the side looking nervous.

"You won't be drawing a stone," Garn assured him. But Arbor remained tense.

The prisoners drew the stones, some with boots planted in their backs. White stones brought sighs of relief. A black stone was drawn, resulting in a despairing groan. And then two more. A young man at the end of the line, hardly more than a boy, drew the final black stone.

"No! No, Akeem," Arbor said, rushing forward to kneel at Grey's feet. "I beg you, spare Robar."

"Who is this?" Grey asked.

"This is Arbor, Akeem," Garn said. "He rode with Toshaba, but when he saw crimes being committed, he joined us in the cave. He brought food for the villagers."

"Arbor, you may ride home with honor," Grey said.

"You don't understand, Akeem. The boy who drew the final stone. He's my son. I beg you, let him live."

Robar was still on his knees, the death rock clutched in his hand. He was barely sixteen. A skinny kid. And now a condemned killer.

"The sentence has been rendered, unless another agrees to take Robar's stone," Grey said. "But it cannot be you."

The prisoners looked around, none volunteering. Robar dipped his head in resignation.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Arbor," Grey said. "Clagg, prepare the wagon."

Standing off to the side, Madaratron saw Arbor's distress, noticed the young food-creature filled with despair, and wondered what it meant. She went to Garn.

"The youngling is going to die?" Madaratron said. "The egg of the one who helped us?"

"It is the law, priestess. He drew the black stone," Garn said.

Madaratron went to Logartro, told him what she'd heard, and then turned toward Akeem.

"Great Akeem, I beg your mercy," Madaratron said. "The food-creature is young. Can its life not be spared?"

"They set fire to your village. Murdered four of the superior race. Injured one of my scouts," Grey sadly reported. "And they endangered a peace I've struggled to build. Only a firm hand will discourage others from committing similar crimes."

Madaratron studied the faces of the forest warriors. Though alien, she sensed their feelings. None cared to see the boy put to death, but they would not disobey their leader. They were on a mission. Could it be a mission sanctified by Sherra? As the Chronicles had claimed?

"I am Priestess of Rogo'shan," Madaratron said, straightening to full height. "There stands a shrine of Mi'Nera, Goddess of Far Travelers. Can you not make an exception for this young egg?"

"A great friend of mine once sought placement at Mi'Nera's Temple, though she is a follower of Mordari," Grey said. "You have my respect, priestess. But this is a harsh world. The superior race would see mercy as weakness. As would my own people."

Clagg's men went among the four unlucky prisoners, tying their hands.

"Wait," Logartro said, suddenly kneeling before Grey. All were shocked, especially his own people.

"Akeem, I am magistrate of Rogo'shan. Administrator for Kaliff Province. May I not have a voice?" Logartro requested. Grey drew the magistrate back to his feet, brushing dirt off his knees.

"Speak," Grey said.

"Garn said if we live in peace with the Liberation, we would be allowed our own leaders. As a leader, I ask you to hear Madaratron's words. Certainly an end to the bloodshed will earn friendship rather than enmity."

"I hear your words, magistrate. But in this, the laws of the Arikhan and the laws of the Liberation are the same. The Scrolls of Ra'Pall require punishment for the murder of innocents."

"We are not the same species," Logartro said.

"Yet we share the same world," Grey replied.

"If you may not heed Logartro, then in Sherra's name, I beg you hear my plea," Madaratron said, stepping forward with shoulders straight. She was tall, even for a female Arikhan. Her stature dominated the assembly.

"Akeem, we should hear Madaratron's plea," Garn said, standing at her side. The priestess put a grateful claw on Garn's shoulder.

"We will hear your plea," Grey agreed.

"I have visited Shalli's Shrine in the Ashanta Mountains," Madaratron said. "Prayed at her monument. And I have stood on the hallowed ground at Karak, where Tak died defending her pups. Their mission is to protect children. All children, as this father seeks to protect his. As you have come to protect ours. In Shalli's name, and by the spirit of Tak, I ask you to spare the youngling's life and take mine in exchange."

Madaratron walked fearlessly into the group of prisoners, paused that all may see, and took the black rock from Robar's hand, clutching it in her raised claw.

"No, my lady," Logartro objected.

The villagers grouped together, afraid for their priestess. Those among the Liberation who understood Arikhan translated for those who didn't. There was awed murmuring in the ranks.

"You place me in a difficult position, priestess. Never has one of your kind made such an offer," Grey said.

"Some of my people lay dead. Some of your people are dead. It is time to travel a new path," Madaratron insisted. She looked at Arbor, who had heard Garn's translation. He stared at her with incomprehension, and then gratitude.

Grey called Clagg to his side, and then Leena and Taba. There was much discussion. Garn was called in last. All wondered what would happen.

"Madaratron's words have moved Akeem's heart. He grants the condemned a choice," Clagg announced. "Those who have no regrets for committing these crimes may honorably hang. Those who repent may find mercy."

"I regret," one of the condemned instantly said. Two others quickly followed.

"I regret even more," Robar said. "I regret not following my father into the cave. Now I pledge myself to Akeem, and I accept his judgement."

"So say ye all?" Clagg asked, not just to the four, but the entire militia. All but two nodded agreement. Leena made note of their names.

"Magistrate Logartro, the four you saved from the gallows will stay to repair the damage they caused," Clagg said in a much rougher Arikhan. "They will harvest your crops. Tend your herd animals. After eight seasons, if they have served well, they may return to the mountains. If any fail you, Akeem's sentence must be carried out."

"Hang them? I am to hang them?" Logartro asked.

"By the decree of Akeem, you are the law in Kaliff Province," Clagg said.

Logartro looked at the Liberation leader with new insight. He wasn't conquering from without, he was conquering from within. A strategy so devious he might be Arikhan.

"We will honor the dead and share a meal," Logartro said. "Your her'rets may be sheltered near the cliffs. We will find dwellings for your warriors. And then we must talk, for many find this hard to understand."

"We will talk," Grey agreed.

The rangers moved on the next morning. The villagers sensed some resentment from the horse riders, and felt some themselves. But none would let ill will affect the peace they had made.

As the army rode out, eight former Toshaba militia remained behind. The four youngest, none of them yet eighteen, were already hard at work repairing the village. Three older men were tending the buffalo herd. Arbor approached Grey.

"Three of my son's friends have decided to stay and share his sentence," Arbor explained. "They're embarrassed by what happened, and seek Akeem's favor. I'm staying, too. Logartro has agreed to let my wife and daughters join us. Garrett's older sister and her daughter will wish to join him."

"You may be starting a new colony here," Grey said.

Arbor looked at the rich land. The blue lakes. Corrals of small pig-like creatures. And the industrious village making its way in the wilderness.

"There are worse fates," Arbor wearily said.

He offered to shake Akeem's hand, not knowing if it was appropriate. The gesture was returned.

"The Liberation will be riding through this village often from now on," Grey said. "I charge you to help Logartro keep the peace as my deputy. Establish trade. Build stables for our horses. Report any sightings of the Contingent."

"It will be as you say," Arbor agreed.

Preparing to ride out, Grey and Leena found Garn, Berlie, and Lawso sitting under a tree with an attractive Arikhan female. They were sharing a meal.

"It will be a half-moon before Lawso can ride again," Garn mentioned. "Berlie wishes to remain with him."

"You've earned a few days leave," Grey replied. "And I wish to say how proud I am of you. All of you."

"Thank you, Akeem," Lawso said.

"Who is your new friend?" Leena asked.

"This is Sofertron," Berlie introduced. "She's a teacher."

"You are very lovely, my dear. Thank you for watching over my boys," Grey said.

"It is a privilege, Akeem," Sofertron said, her cheeks turning darker. Garn realized she was blushing.

"Time to go, Garn. There are more villages to save," Grey ordered.

They left Rogo'shan a few minutes later, heading west.

"It was very brave to hold that cave," Grey complimented.

"I've always seen you make hard decisions," Garn said. "Now I know how it feels."

* * * * * *

It was to be a short meeting, in the badlands, just south of the Varish Expanse. The Liberation arrived first, on horseback, two hundred Rangers spreading out among gullies and thick trees. Then a shaba'kar approached from the north, landing in a dry meadow. There were only eight Varbatro, the male warriors forming a perimeter around the craft.

"Don't go, Akeem, it's a trick," Lopota warned. "They wouldn't send so small a force."

"Lopota is right. Wait for them to commit," Taba agreed.

"Clagg?" Grey asked.

"I sense no deception in their posture. The masters do not deceive well," Clagg advised.

"It's still a risk," Barris said, passively agreeing with Clagg.

"I go alone," Grey decided, dropping all his weapons except a hunting knife.

"Akeem, no. Zenatro would gladly sacrifice the Contingent Leader to kill you," Taba said. "There is no Liberation without Akeem."

"There will always be a Liberation," Grey said, patting him on the shoulder.

Grey emerged from the trees, walking slowly toward the shaba'kar. A tall, broad-shouldered Arikhan started toward him. The alien carried no weapons. His gait was cautious. They met in the middle of the clearing near a fallen birch tree.

"The superior race has arrived, as promised," Cordaris declared, sitting on a log.

"You are bold, Contingent Leader," Grey remarked, remaining standing.

"You are wrong, food-creature. Boldness requires danger, and there is none here," Cordaris replied.

"Your shaba'kar is surrounded by hundreds of forest riders, and our weapons are better than they once were."

"But they are led by Akeem. Will Akeem allow them to violate our truce? Murder those who have come to talk?"

"No."

"Then what danger is there?"

"What inspires such confidence in the word of Akeem?"

"Nabbatron. Frontra. Pollatro. Montran. And my new patron, Livy, Countess of Kall' Nook."

"You call upon noble company."

"Let us get down to business. We are met to discuss prisoner exchanges, but I have already released all prisoners in Contingent custody. They travel for the Western Peninsula."

"All?"

"Would you share Lafarian wine?" Cordaris offered, producing a bottle from his coat pocket.

"I will not turn it down," Grey said, finally taking a seat.

"Unafraid of poison?"

"I have twenty years' experience with the superior race. I have never known them to lower themselves in such a manner."

"And we never will."

The wine was good, freshly imported from Arikhan.

"If you have no prisoners to exchange, why are we meeting?"

"Will you release prisoners held by the Liberation, now that I have released mine?"

"Yes, Contingent Leader."

Cordaris lashed his black tongue, as if he expected such a response.

"I am not Contingent Leader much longer. My retirement has been posted."

"You are still young, by Arikhan standards."

"Zenatro would have one more loyal to his régime."

"In what manner are you found wanting?" Grey asked.

"You may not agree, and your people will not understand, but I have never sought to persecute food-creatures. I fought to secure order. For my retirement, I have purchased a ranch in Lamby Township not far from Nabbatron's."

"Are you now a follower of Mordari?"

"I am not a mystic. Any more than you are," Cordaris replied. "When Mordari said her words would make our Empire strong again, I did not believe her. Now I believe Mordari's words have merit."

"By meeting with the Empire's enemy?"

"Akeem, you are not so sly. Zenatro is a greedy fool. A corrupt, waddling incompetent. Such as he makes the Empire weak. Your Liberation respects Arikhan law, and Arikhan culture. You boost production. Expand trade. Your people, many of them, worship Sherra. The settlements in the Green Belt are rising in prosperity. And this is because of you. In many respects, you are more Arikhan than Zenatro."

"Do not tell my people, they might not understand," Grey said, adding a sharp click of his tongue at the end of the sentence. Cordaris poured more wine.

"Zenatro is struggling to recruit mercenaries. The best of the Contingent now seek private contracts with the guilds. On Arikhan, many feel Zenatro's régime is not worth defending. Not if it means diverting resources to a backwater planet that presents no threat."

"I am pleased to hear this," Grey said, sipping slowly.

"Has this not been your plan all along?"

"My plan has been to free the people of this world from tyranny. Where the Arikhan offer no tyranny, we have no enemies."

Cordaris lowered eye-rings, pleased with himself.

"We have met before."

"Yes, many years ago."

"You are the bag of bones recovered by the Link outside the stargate. When the interrogations could get no information from you, you were sent to Karak to die."

"How is that working out for you?" Grey asked.

Cordaris twittered, the sound coming from low in his throat. An Arikhan laugh.

"From the mines of Akrona will be forged the Sword of Sherra," Cordaris quoted.

Grey was shocked. Unpleasantly so.

"Your words are dangerous, my lord. Some may say you speak treason."

"If I do, so does Lord Gamtro, and Lady Gamtra, and Countess Vistra. I stand in good company. Many think it true when they meet you. Your eyes are that of an ancient fighter. A child soldier?"

"I was," Grey said, surprised by the insight.

"The Arikhan do not just observe a warrior, we can smell one. Sense one. I have met six different species. A warrior's spirit is the one common denominator."

"In what manner may I serve you, my lord?" Grey inquired, clicking his tongue with respect.

"We may help each other. The Western Peninsula is rich with resources. The region will grow stronger if they can move more products to market. It will also allow homesteaders such as Nabbatron and Frontra to buy more slaves from captivity. I seek permission to build a railroad from Lamby to Va'ragashant."

"I don't believe you need my permission."

"Will you finance it?"

Grey spit up some wine. "This is a fund-raising meeting?" he sputtered.

"If you heard Cordaris, your old and most determined adversary, was seeking to build a railroad that would benefit the Liberation, you would not have believed it. I present myself as proof."

"You are a brilliant creature, Cordaris. I do not get to say that very often, even among my own people. Before we proceed, let there be no misunderstandings. Do you realize that Mordari and I have known each other for many years? Long before I came to Akrona."

"Arikhan do not keep records as we should, so the journey was difficult. I learned Mordari saved you from execution at Karak. Why would Mordari do that? I knew she had recently been held prisoner on Sol. The Link found you in space, trapped in a strange suit, not so long after the invasion of Sol failed. The investigation led to you."

"Then you know the name I once had?"

"I do. A warrior of the first rank, and a worthy foe. But it is not common knowledge, and it will not be repeated by me."

"You have no animosity?"

"A soldier knows that new allies are better to have than old enemies. Should it not be you who bears the animosity?"

"As you suspect, I do not care if we were enemies in the past. That means nothing to me. I need partners. I need friends. And I will sacrifice for them to prove my worth. If this is what you truly seek, I will fund your railroad."

"All of it?"

"The Liberation is not poor," Grey slyly smiled.

This might have impressed Cordaris the most.

"If Lady Gamtra wrote a Chronicle of you, more might come to hear the Voice of Sherra," Cordaris suggested.

"How so?"

"Akeem is not just a forest bandit, he has made himself wealthy. And powerful. Wherever he rules, prosperity follows. And not just for his own people. What speaks louder of Sherra than such a gift?"

"I am not a god, and do not claim to be," Grey replied. "Sometimes I am displeased with Sherra for taking my wife, though I bless her for my daughter."

"Many have felt your loss," Cordaris consoled with a soft click of his tongue, "but Sherra needed Shalli's spirit to protect new life. To give strong eggs. To bring our peoples together for the new generations. To have known Shalli in life, as Lady Gamtra did, would have been a fine thing."

Cordaris finished his wine quickly and poured another. His claws twitched with emotion. The eye-rings dipped.

"I have a new mate," Cordaris hesitantly whispered. "She is young. Of egg bearing age, and a follower of Mordari. I love her. I love her with the force of the world. I would find her passage to Shalli's Shrine that she might beg her favor."

Grey motioned for more wine.

"Visas will be approved, and high honor given," Grey promised. "I know Shalli will do everything she can for your mate."

"I will leave the contracts for the railroad with the Construction Guild," Cordaris said.

"I will arrange funding through the Finance Guild," Grey replied.

* * * * * *

Chapter Twelve

TRAVELERS FROM AFAR

"Lady Gamtra, are you sure this journey is wise?" Governor Zenatro asked, his claws rubbing nervously.

"Fear not, Zenny. I have been to Karak before. So have Vistra and Livy," Gamtra reminded.

"That was seven orbits ago. Times have changed," Zenatro warned.

"Those changes are what the Committee of Commerce seeks to investigate," Livy said, activating her recorder.

Gamtra and her inner circle had arrived at Lo'cosan, Akrona's only spaceport, located thirty kilometers north of Va'ragashant. The large landing field was surrounded by tall adobe walls and a handful of watch towers. Two massive hangars serviced the shuttlecraft used to reach the planet's orbital platform. Though the journey through the Laros stargate had only taken a few hours, the trip from the stargate to Akrona had taken three days.

"My ladies, Karak is no longer ruled by the superior race. There is no law south of the Varish Expanse," Zenatro pleaded.

"And yet members of the superior race reside there, do they not?" Vistra said. "Akronium is reaching the processing plants. Shrines have been built. Cargo vessels are being delivered on schedule."

Zenatro paused to evaluate his situation. His rule was too tenuous to risk offending three highborn aristocrats. He noticed the committee had brought their own security, a claw of Varbaran. The female soldiers were well-armed. And there was one odd visitor lingering just outside the terminal. Not an aristocrat, but somehow familiar.

"The train will take the entire day to reach Karak," Zenatro advised.

"Have you no sho'kara for us?" Livy asked.

"We do not fly transports to the frontier provinces, my lady," Zenatro replied.

"Why is that?" Vistra asked.

"Because they do not come back," Zenatro reported.

The train skirted the capital, traveling south, passing through modest cities, then small towns, and finally into the great rolling prairie. Large windows allowed the passengers to see the barren terrain. Gamtra sat with her special guest, Livy and Vistra behind them. Coltara and the security detail took seats in the rear. The car held a scattering of business travelers, all of them commoners.

"What do you think, Gretnar?" Gamtra asked.

"I understand why few venture this direction. All is desolation," the playwright said.

"Not all. Though we can't see them from here, there are wealthy mines in the hills. Fine sand is used for making glass. The deserts have towering red buttes. Basins have delicious hot pools. The salt flats were once harvested by slaves."

"Once?" Gretnar asked.

"The slaves of the salt camps were set free," Livy elaborated.

"The train tracks are in good condition. The ride comfortable," Gretnar observed. "It seems strange for a world in rebellion."

"There is rarely trouble this far south, but we are prepared," Blytron said, a guild security officer with wide shoulders and deep black eyes. Livy thought her formidable, though not so formidable as Coltara.

"Blytron and I have traveled these lands before. There will be no trouble," Livy said.

Many passengers were still on the train when it finally crossed the Rellena River. Engineers, tech staff, and construction workers. There was even a pharmacist. All jumped up when the train pulled into Karak Station.

"When I was last here, Kanatro's troops were everywhere," Gamtra remembered. "Smoke rose from the camp where dwellings had been burned. The timber mill had been destroyed. After the slaves were freed, I heard there was even more damage."

"We brought tents if we need them," Vistra assured her.

"Did you bring food?" Gretnar asked.

"Do not worry," Livy replied, glancing back at Coltara. Her beloved guardian raised her head, flexing her giant claws.

Gamtra looked out the window. There were no soldiers. Nor did the arrival of the train attract any special attention. A tall figure in a brown robe approached the boarding platform.

"Lady Gamtra, welcome," Asktra said, helping her down from the car.

"Greeted by the Countess of Mill' Tree? This is indeed an honor," Gamtra said, clicking her tongue in homage.

"We know who is honored," Asktra replied. "Vistra, Livy, welcome cousins. Your quarters are ready. Gretnar, is that you?"

"Yes, Countess. I research a new theatre," Gretnar responded, bowing from the waist.

"I saw Shalli of Spring when last on Arikhan," Asktra recalled. "Well done, though a bit naïve."

"My next work will be better," Gretnar promised, clicking his tongue.

"Is that charming young girl still in your group?" Asktra asked.

"No, Alicia was hired away. I cannot afford her anymore," Gretnar lamented.

"I do not understand," Asktra said, raising an eye-ring.

"My former star now tours with Lady Vasatron's troupe. She bought a manor on Park Hill. Hired servants. Admirers line up to brush claws. Alicia's wardrobe costs more than I make in a season."

"A food-creature?" Asktra asked.

"Alicia has been admitted to the Theatre Guild. She pays taxes. And there are no laws preventing food-creatures from owning property on Arikhan. Can you believe it? No one ever thought such a law would be needed," Gretnar complained.

Having heard Gretnar's tales of woe before, Gamtra paused on the platform to study the changes seven years had brought. Several dozen rock houses had been built on the wooded hillside east of the railroad tracks. By the design, they were Arikhan dwellings, with broad decks and large windows. The barracks had been restored and now looked like a hotel. There was even a garden.

"I hear noise from the mountains," Gamtra said. "Are you mining Akronium here?"

"No, we are not mining Akronium. Others do that," Asktra replied.

Gamtra recognized the cottages of Rabbit Camp, each with straw roofs and a potted plant on their porch. There was a quaintness about them. The forcefield fences were gone, but the two-story brick gatehouse remained.

"Look!" Gretnar shouted, pointing toward the lake. "A primitive!"

"More than one," Livy indicated with a wave of her claw.

Two muscular food-creatures guided an ore cart pulled by horses to the loading dock, dumped the contents into the receiving bins, and returned the way they came. They took no notice of the Arikhan.

"When were the slaves recovered?" Vistra asked.

"They are not slaves," Asktra corrected. "They are miners. The Akronium is taken to Molela for refining, then transported to An'cor for finishing. Each quarter, the profits are distributed by Karak's board of governors."

"Arikhan and food-creatures?" Gretnar asked.

"The guilds and the Liberation," Asktra clarified. "And because Karak operates on the black market, they pay no fiefs. The guilds pay no tariffs. Zenatro is not pleased, but he cannot risk the mines closing."

"This explains much," Vistra said.

"How is it the superior race and the food-creatures don't kill each other?" Gretnar asked.

"There are problems, sometimes. Usually on nights when too much mauck is served," Asktra explained. "But we have our laws, and the miners obey Akeem. He has decreed there be no violence here."

"And there is no violence?" Vistra asked.

"Very little, and harshly punished," Asktra reported.

"Does this Akeem think himself a god?" Gretnar questioned.

"Akeem? A god? You do not realize it now, Gretnar, but that is great humor," Asktra said, softly clicking her tongue.

"You have met Akeem?" Gamtra asked.

"I have shared meals with him," Asktra replied.

"Is Akeem here? Will we meet him?" Vistra asked.

"No, he sends a representative. Would you like to see the new shrine?" Asktra inquired.

"Yes, very much," Livy said.

Leaving their bags at the station, the delegation walked west toward the imposing cliffs of Karak, famous for its treasured mines. Smaller cliffs loomed to their right, a final barrier before the valley gave way to the river. The gatehouse was to the left, the ground floor occupied by someone who appeared very busy. A path led toward the lake.

"Shalli's cabin was beyond these farms, near that old dock," Gamtra said. "I did not see it after the burnings, but Mordari spoke from its doorstep. Shalli was still alive then, just days before she escaped."

"These farms are being tended. Look, more primitives," Gretnar whispered, spotting dozens of women preparing for fall planting. They appeared relaxed despite the hard work.

"Shalli's cabin is declared holy ground," Livy informed.

"It is not far from the new shrine," Asktra said, leading the way.

They passed between the gardens and the lake, coming close to the workers. A few looked up, though most didn't. Their clothes seemed well-made. In the distance were more workers, mostly males, moving ore carts from the quarries.

"How many creatures are there?" Gretnar asked.

"Better than eight hundred," Asktra answered. "Most were slaves here before the revolt. When Karak was placed under the protection of the guilds, they wanted to return home."

Just before reaching the lake, they found a granite obelisk standing three meters high. Yellow flowers grew at the base. There were two inscriptions: one in Akronian symbols, the other in Arikhan script.

"It was here that Tak died fighting for her pups," Asktra said, a small circle of land between the gardens and the lake. "So tenacious was her battle that Sherra summoned her warrior spirit, and now Tak seeks to defend all younglings from harm. When Shalli was called, Tak led her sister to sit at Sherra's feet. Now Shalli gives strength to our eggs and nurtures our spirits."

Lady Gamtra, Vistra, and Livy paid homage, touching the obelisk with extended claw. Their aides laid bundles of dried ferns. It was a somber event.

"How do you fare, my lady?" Gretnar asked, finding Gamtra quiet.

"This is a sad place. For those who knew Shalli and Tak, it is even sadder. And yet, I feel very proud of them," Gamtra answered.

"Shalli's Retreat is more cheerful," Asktra said.

"I heard there was little remaining after the revolt," Gamtra responded in surprise.

"Just the foundation and a few charred walls," Asktra confirmed.

"At least I saved Ben's paintings," Gamtra mentioned.

"Gamtro's famous pet? He painted?" Gretnar asked.

"They hang in the gallery at Kall' Tree. You have seen them."

"The star paintings?" Gretnar said, eye-rings going up.

"Perhaps, on your next visit, you will be more observant," Gamtra said, clicking her tongue with satisfaction.

The burned-out shell Gamtra expected to see wasn't there. In its place was a two-story log cabin with a stone chimney, a wide porch, and large windows. Surrounded by vegetable gardens, it looked just like the home Shalli and Ben had shared for several prosperous years. Until Lord Gamtro's injury and his replacement by Kanatro.

The cabin door opened and a food-creature emerged. Dressed in long black robes, the slender woman with dark eyes made an immediate impression.

"Greetings, Lady Gamtra, you may remember me. I am Black Hands, First Minister to Akeem," she said from the porch.

"Mordari spoke of you," Gamtra acknowledged. "Have you been reborn?"

"Many times, my lady," Black Hands confirmed.

The visitors noticed the emissary spoke excellent Arikhan, catching all the proper inflections. There was a confidence about her that spoke of power.

"Welcome to Shalli's home. Please enter and sit. Refreshments are served," Black Hands encouraged.

The interior was sanded oak, the planks harvested from the surrounding forest. The visitors found many familiar features, such as carpets, a dining table, and a nest in the back.

"This is very charming," Vistra said, sitting on a cushion next to the fireplace.

"Not the dark cave we were led to expect," Gretnar remarked.

"Dogra, what's wrong?" Livy asked.

"It reminds me of Shalli in happier times," Gamtra said. "I fear this is but an imitation. A theatre. Shalli's true home was brought to ruin by closed hearts."

"Times seem to be improving," Vistra said. "The workers are not slaves. They have good clothes. Sturdy houses."

"Times improved once before. They did not last," Gamtra reminded, eye-rings flat.

Black Hands served each guest a glass of fine black wine and honey-dipped oatcakes. Her movements were well-practiced. Graceful. Her knowledge of who to serve first betrayed an intimate knowledge of their culture.

"This syrup was imported from Arikhan," Gretnar said in surprise.

"Lady Asktra requested the best for her guests," Black Hands explained.

A bell sounded in the distance. Once. Twice. Three times. Black Hands nodded to Asktra. They seemed well-practiced at nonverbal communication.

"We have made arrangements for the evening meal," Black Hands said. "Is anyone hungry?"

"We all are," Livy answered, clicking her tongue.

They returned along the main trail, leaving the farms for the gatehouse. The mining tracks that once ran through the area had been moved north, replaced by broad patios. The smell of roasting venison came from a massive grill. Black Hands fell back to speak with Livy privately.

"How was the trip home?" Black Hands asked.

"It felt strange. Lately, Akrona is feeling more like home," Livy answered.

"You and Coltara may stay with me at Trove House if the hotel is too cramped. I have plenty of room."

"Many still do not suspect how closely I am associated with the Liberation. Let us keep up the pretense a while longer," Livy cautioned.

"Astra is not shy about where her sympathies lie," Black Hands mentioned.

"Astra is a countess from a powerful house," Livy explained. "I may be highborn, but I am not nearly so wealthy."

"Akeem asks about you often. He worries," Black Hands mentioned.

"His life is more dangerous than mine. How is Hope?"

"She thrives. And wants to see her friends again."

"Coltara misses her. We will spend a season at Dari once this tour is over," Livy promised.

The delegation entered the old brick building that had once been a guard post. Gamtra remembered Frontra and Nabbatron having their offices on the top floor. But now it was no longer a guard post--it was a tavern. With unusual cooks.

"Welcome to Karak Corner," a female food-creature said, wearing a red dress with a white apron. Behind her, in the kitchen, several tall males were preparing the meal. Her accent was good, if uneducated.

"Are they your servants?" Gretnar said to Asktra.

"Not at all," Asktra said. "This is Meela, mate of Heary. They operate Karak Corner. The tall boy is their son, Tobar. The young female setting the tables is Tobar's mate, Kutney. Their Arikhan dishes are excellent, or you may taste the local fare. Heary's brother operates the brewery. Their mauck is quite good."

Gamtra glanced out the window. Workers and administrators from east of the tracks, all Arikhan, were hustling to find seats on the patio. The restaurant seemed a popular establishment. She looked again at the food-creatures. They were going about their business routinely, as if serving the superior race was nothing out of the ordinary.

After an excellent meal, Gamtra's staff went to find rooms in the hotel. Gamtra drew Black Hands aside, walking toward the farms in the double moonlight.

"I must speak with Akeem," Gamtra requested.

"I urged him to come, but Karak holds sad memories for him."

"There are things that need understanding."

"My lady, may I be bold enough to ask a question?"

"Of course."

"You know Ben and Akeem are the same creature, yet you have not mentioned it in your Chronicles. Why is that?"

"Has Akeem not said?"

"He has not."

"Your leader is wise."

"He is my friend. My dearest friend."

"This touches on why I must speak with him," Gamtra said. "Your revolt has evolved slowly, bringing no alarm to the Supreme Council. The guilds are served, trade has grown, and none believe the rebels sophisticated enough to present serious danger. Akeem is called a forest bandit. But some still remember Lord Gamtro's famous pet. As an assistant to my mate, Ben traveled to our factories. He knows our technology."

"I understand. Such knowledge in a slave presumed dead presents no danger. Akeem with such knowledge creates much jeopardy."

"That is why my Chronicles make no mention of Ben."

"There may be a way to see him. Would you care to visit Shalli's Shrine?"

"Very much. I was hoping Asktra would invite me."

"It's cold in the mountains this time of year. Bring warm clothing."

* * * * * *

Gamtra was able to borrow four terrain vehicles for the drive, which was easier than riding horses. After several days on gravel roads, the delegation reached a thriving town in the Green Belt east of the Varish Expanse.

"Look, my lady. Railroad tracks are being laid to the northern provinces," Vistra noted, seeing the construction equipment. "It would seem building railroads has become a hobby on this planet."

"Tyradon is the jumping off point for pilgrims seeking Shalli's Shrine in the Ashanta Mountains," Livy informed. "It has become a trade center for towns throughout the region."

They traveled farther east until reaching the foothills of a steep mountain chain. As the area looked particularly remote, Blytron insisted on sitting in the first vehicle, worried about security. Her weapon remained close by.

They followed the wide road into a green valley. Up ahead, a walled sanctuary had been built on a plateau. Below the plateau, near a broad river, was a growing town.

"Welcome to Dari," a sentry greeted at the gate. "You are expected. Second Avenue takes you to the Magistrate's Nest."

"There are food-creatures here," Gretnar said, pointing to a wagon parked in the plaza. "What are they doing?"

"They are selling nuts, my lord," the sentry answered.

"I wonder if they have cokays?" Vistra said.

As was typical of an Arikhan town, the largest buildings were laid out along a main road. The stone structures were generally two or three stories high, except for the five-story administration building. Private dwellings made of wood and sandstone spread out in a web. Beyond the houses were farms and pens for holding livestock.

"Quarters are arranged, Lady Gamtra," Mayor Baloktro said, excited by the eminent visitors. He was middle-aged, a little gray, and long in the tooth. "Lopota will be here soon."

"What is a Lopota?" Vistra asked.

"Lopota is the governor in this region. You need his permission to visit the shrine," Baloktro explained.

"We need a food-creature's permission? This thing rules you?" Gretnar questioned.

"The superior race obeys our own laws," Baloktro defended.

"It sounds as if you obey Akeem's laws," Gretnar said.

"The frontier villages need to be practical," Livy explained. "The her'ret riders patrol throughout the southern provinces. Rather than have their homes burned and industries destroyed, the towns offer no resistance. In exchange, they are allowed trade."

"Many food-creatures live nearby, as you have seen," Baloktro added. "They are curious things. Not what we were led to believe."

"Does Mordari speak here?" Vistra asked.

"Mordari speaks everywhere, my lady," Baloktro replied, pounding a claw on his chest. "She is just not heard everywhere."

The delegation was provided with elegant rooms on the top floor of the Minera Inn. Later that evening, Gretnar joined Livy at a sidewalk café, enjoying broiled fish. Several food-creatures strolled by, offering respectful nods to the Arikhan aristocrat.

"You appear to know these lands well, my lady," Gretnar said. "More than Lady Gamtra or Vistra. Yet you do not say much."

"I am Lady Gamtra's emissary," Livy replied. "What I learn is confidential."

"How is it you are so well-known? Even among food-creatures?"

"My House has much investment here, and we offer many services."

Gretnar raised eye-rings, waiting to hear more.

"When Karak was being reopened, and in the early days of Dari, supplies were hard to acquire. Bynatron and I brought tools and medicines. The forest women enjoy their sewing kits." Livy reached into her pocket, displaying a folded leather pouch filled with sewing needles. The pouch was embossed with her family crest. "We have distributed 20,000 of these. Coltara and I are a familiar presence among the southern villages."

"Then you have met Akeem before?"

"When Karak was freed by angry forest riders, he protected me from their wrath. When Hope fell ill with green fever, Coltara nursed her back to health. Akeem assisted Astra during the early days of Dori's construction, and showed us where Shalli was entombed."

"I cannot decide who rules here. It is all very confusing."

"As Mayor Baloktro said, the rangers go where the Contingent dares not. Zenatro has lost half of his shaba'kar in the last five years, and they are difficult to replace. Funds are scarce. The Contingent will not risk resources on villages who resent their rule."

"These frontier provinces appear very independent," Gretnar complained.

"All the far settlements are. They come to these remote lands to find new lives. The Great Houses do not rule here. The Council of Warriors does not rule here. Zenatro, in particular, does not rule here."

"Akeem rules here," Gretnar said.

"And you see his rule. Trade. Security. Prosperity. And they say the eggs are healthier here. Healthier than any seen in generations. It is why hundreds now flock to Shalli's Shrine. Those who can afford the journey."

"Maybe the eggs are healthier because of the clean air? The natural foods?" Gretnar said. "And they are free of blue-blood stress. Said without insult, my lady."

"It is true the settlers are commoners. Except for Asktra and a few others. Perhaps that is why the commoners have greater toleration for the forest people."

Black Hands arrived at Dari the next morning with Lopota and a troop of mounted rangers. After changing into proper attire, they met with the Arikhan delegation at Gerrat House off the central plaza. The tavern was operated by food-creatures.

The Arikhan visitors were impressed with the finely robed forest chieftain, remarking on his black beard, wide girth, and grasp of basic Arikhan. Though he had not been speaking the language long.

"Great Lopota, we ask permission to visit Shalli's Shrine," Lady Gamtra formally requested.

"Great Lady Gamtra, you and your people are welcome to this land," Lopota formally replied.

Lopota opened a door into a dining hall. Freshly cooked buffalo steaks were served on long tables. The head waiter was an elegant older Arikhan. Probably retired military. The servants were humans, smartly dressed and working hard.

After an excellent meal of mixed Arikhan and Akronian dishes, the delegation retired to the study where a fireplace kept the room warm. Black Hands took Gamtra aside.

"Akeem has agreed to meet you," Black Hands whispered.

"When?"

"In the morning. At the Sanctuary."

"In the morning then. At the Sanctuary."

"Do not be frightened by Akeem's bodyguards. They are a grim bunch," Black Hands warned.

"Be assured, child, nothing can frighten me," Gamtra replied.

* * * * * *

Grey stood on the rock decking looking down into the valley. To the west lay Shall' Tree, Lady Asktra's great estate, carved out of a forested wilderness. Below was Dari, a boisterous frontier town filled with merchants, taverns and theaters. It appeared a concert was in progress. Several large rooming houses lined the meandering river. On the plateau above the town was Ashanta Sanctuary, a busy religious center. Along the road going north were two more great estates, and another was being built. Devoted as they were to their faith, the aristocrats had not abandoned their privileged lifestyles.

Four kilometers up the mountain, near the top of the pass, was the tomb so many pilgrims came to see. It was no longer the desolate canyon that Grey, Shalli, and Garn had climbed seven years before. The pathways were stone. Flowerbeds blossomed. Niches held statues of various gods. There were relief facilities for travelers. Tradition dictated those healthy enough should walk the trail, following in Shalli's footsteps.

Lopota came to join him, carrying a jug and two finely carved goblets. Behind Lopota was his new residence, a spacious cliff-side manor filled with Arikhan conveniences. Lopota's two young sons were making noise in the kitchen.

"Tralling Ale?" Grey said, taking a deep sip. "Do you know this is imported all the way from Arikhan?"

"It's good. I like it," Lopota said.

Grey returned his attention to the town square. He had watched the arrival of Lady Gamtra's delegation from a distance.

"What are you thinking, Akeem?"

"Remembering Shalli. And thinking how different everything is now. Just a few years ago, none of this would have been possible."

"It's Sherra's Will," Lopota said, bowing his head.

Grey was astonished.

"What happened to the old gods?" Grey asked.

"They have their place. But I've spoken often with Asktra. And Livy. Many others who come to this place. They speak with power."

Grey sat down, indicating he wanted more ale. Inside the house, he heard Hope threatening to brain one of Lopota's sons. He admired her confidence, but worried about her wild spirit.

"The Princess of Saramont is loud tonight," Lopota said with a grin.

"Hope is not a princess."

"Everybody thinks she is, including Hope."

"Tell me more of Sherra," Grey requested.

"The hornfeet ..., that is, the Arikhan were invaded long ago by creatures they call the Rocks. The Rocks had no bodies, but they could takeover minds. Twist souls. Sherra led her people in revolt against the Rocks and defeated them. She restored prosperity to her world.

"Two hundred years ago, our gods failed us. Now Sherra has come here, to this desolate place, and prosperity has followed. We have food, medicines, and winter houses. There are no more raids over the mountains. Mordari said the rise of Akeem would free our people, and then you arrived, fulfilling her prophecy. Asktra tells me that our ancient teachings aren't much different than theirs. Except for us being different species, of course."

"How do your people feel about this? About Sherra?"

"Some agree. Others don't. Why? Certainly you must believe in Sherra?"

"I believe in all the gods. And none. What do you think of Gamtra?"

"She has many questions. I couldn't tell if she's angry, but something troubles her."

"We're to meet in the morning. The last time I saw her was under difficult circumstances. I see she brought Livy and Vistra."

"These bluebloods are not so strange. I've met dozens of them. Each wishes to be a king or a queen, and if you treat them as such, there are rich rewards. The brown skins are more practical. All they want is good land, plentiful harvests, and healthy eggs."

"Your views on them have changed over the years."

"As you intended."

"Me?"

"Like all of our people, I thought we would drive the invaders from our world and be free of them. But you knew better. You've always known. They are a powerful race, with a strong culture. And a stronger military. They are never going away. Are they?

"No, they aren't."

"Then we must learn to live with them, as best we can," Lopota concluded. "And if having a fine house, safety for my children, and Tralling Ale is the price I must pay, I will pay it."

There was a loud crash from the kitchen. The boys were trying to tease Hope with questionable success.

"Your sons might be in danger," Grey said, refilling his cup.

"Hope will be merciful. Eventually. Is it true she has an Arikhan tutor at Saramont?"

"Two tutors, a doctor and an engineer. They indulge her."

"She called Tomat a bloody vvleen. What does that mean?"

"You don't want to know," Grey answered.

* * * * * *

One more part to go.