As a merchant and a priest of Issaries, Biturian had many contacts with the peoples and gods of Prax. He appears to have worked hard to maintain his neutrality despite occasional pressures to do otherwise. Therefore his neutrality allowed him to participate in the functions of many cults, which might otherwise have been denied to an outsider. Such rituals are the inner workings of cults, beyond their obvious local color. We have included only those references which we thought particularly colorful or illustrative.
Biturian made his way through the chaparral during the winter, the preferred travel season in Prax because of the relative coolness and the increased rainfall. At that time the seasonal spread of vegetation is greatest, extending the grazing territories of the native herds. This expanded ground aided in keeping the tribes from each others' throats in some regions, and also provided some relatively leisurely time in which to go to market.
The full itinerary of Biturian Varosh has been marked on the accompanying map of Prax. The numbered points [on the map] are those which the journal excerpts describe or in which they take place. The place, cult reference, and date are included in the list below:
The Lunar Etyries cult now runs and protects the market and, in turn, claims the first choice of the slaves, choosing as they want, paying below normal prices, then leaving the rest to the mercies of the market.
Morokanth are not allowed here by tradition, for even the cruelest captor will not send his winnings to become herd meat for those animal humans of Prax.
I sought a guide and useful companion, and was attracted to a woman named Norayeep whose intelligence, wit, and vivacious allure recommended her to me. She was a Bison woman, experienced as an animal handler. She'd been taken captive in the incessant plains warfare and had been sold rather than kept.
Her purchaser said he'd take ten percent off her price if I'd also buy her brother. The boy was skinny, too young to be of much use. Norayeep whispered of Uleria's arts, and begged me to buy him. I still refused, and then the owner said he would not sell the girl without him! I was about to turn down the deal but the owner relented and said he'd be willing to bargain further. I tried again, and this time he offered to sell me a mule load of copper armor if I'd take the boy for half his original price.
I accepted the generous terms, introduced myself to my slaves, received invoice, and set to the warehouses to prepare my caravan.
They began by making a huge fire from rubble wood. One of them, whom I had thought to be a bearer, proved himself a shaman and threw something into the fire. The flames answered by spitting out a burst of green coals which burrowed into the ground where they hit. No one paid attention to them. By nightfall the flames had died, leaving only a heap of ashes and embers.
The baboons growled and snarled in their beast speech, and set unlit torches about as wards. The leader asked if I would bless the ground, and I did. Some drank strong drink from gourds while others were sober. All of them smeared their fur with ashes. They began a twirling dance, clashing weapons and falling to the ground to wail like babies.
Then two masked baboons appeared on the far side of the ash pile from me. One mask was red, and its wearer held a snake-tail rattle. The other was yellow, and held a staff surmounted by animal horns.
These two acted out the ritual of the baboons' survival during the Great Darkness. They claim that Daka Fal went to them first in that awful period, and that all human worship was learned from baboons in the Dark. Their yowling dance reenacted that god's teachings to the Initiates who were present. I could not tell which was supposed to be Daka Fal and which was the baboon Founder.
As it progressed, I noticed with surprise that the number of baboons had grown, and I realized that many spirits now were among the group, greedily looking upon the world they had left, mixing like friends among those still alive. Lust for a body was in them. Suddenly I saw the red-masked baboon seized and torn to shreds! The others, the living, panicked and fled behind the other masked creature.
Yellow Mask screamed words of power, and all the spirits were forced to hover where the green stones had buried themselves earlier. Yellow Mask chittered to the baboons behind him, then went to the dead Red Mask and touched him in several places. Red Mask, whom I had seen torn limb from limb, sprang up alive again, screaming in triumph. All the others yelled too, and beat their chests in ragged victory until the sun came up. Two of them dug up something and ate it.
The shaman, who had been wearing the red mask, dug also, and brought me a nut of a type I never had seen. He indicated I must eat it to get one use of the cult spell Summon Ancestor. Such was the magic of the baboons which I saw.
There were many pilgrims seeking escort to the holy place as well, and they had all placed themselves under my protection. Morak said we should go without escort, but I did not want to pass so close to the dread Devil's Marsh without someone to fight chaos. Morak thought he could do it alone, wearing a slave collar, but Morak always talked so.
A merchant from Apple Lane had once told me that Kahn Barzaad had a weakness for sugar, and I'd prepared myself for him. He received five kilos of grain sugar and a liter of honey as a gift, while each warrior got a two-liter jug of beer. After a full morning of negotiation, wherein we passed much time in talking just of the wars in Dragon Pass, we agreed on a price: 20 Lunars a day for him, 10 per day for his Initiates, all food, fodder, and water, and double payment for any day they fought chaos. I made it clear I would not pay for fighting other plains people, nor would I chase the souls of the dead. The pilgrims agreed they would help heal any wounds of the Storm Bull men. I made it clear that we must make the trip in two days without combat, and they agreed.
The first night out, with the top of the Block already seeming to loom overhead, Barzaad said he wanted one of my mules in payment as well. I refused, but after defying him a while I said I'd trade one to him. He offered me two thumb-sized pieces of red Truestone. I couldn't resist, and we closed the deal.
He and his friends then killed and cooked the mule, gorging themselves tremendously as the pilgrims looked on in disgust, fear, or hunger, according to their cults.
About midnight, I was awakened by Barzaad, who complained loudly that I had cheated him. He said the meat had made all of them sick, and he swung his sword around, chopping holes in my tent to prove it. His warriors all nodded and belched in agreement.
The pilgrims vanished into the night, preferring the unknown dangers of the dark desert rather than the angry Storm Bull berserkers. I had only two other warriors, five baboons, and two slaves to resist his argument. Morak growled and yapped like a dog. I would have thought him a werewolf, but it was not Animal Night of the week yet. I ordered the baboons to silence him and one did so with a spear-butt blow on the head. This made the Storm Kahn laugh and, when he turned back to me, I grudgingly agreed to pay back Barzaad half the meat price, but they must have dog-meat instead. Barzaad thought that was even funnier and grabbed Morak as if to tear him apart for cooking. That's when they found the horns on Morak's head, and dropped him in surprise.
Abruptly they agreed to my price and I returned one stone. Norayeep would not tell me what scared them as she tended her brother. I was glad for his foolishness that time, and glad he wasn't hurt, and so did not press the matter. The pilgrims sneaked back into camp after the excitement.
At the Block, I traded and got four blank pieces of Truestone. Later I sold the red one to a pilgrim who I had escorted for 1500 Lunars. The trip was profitable, and I parted from the Storm Kahn with kindness and satisfaction.
I grew frightened when I realized we were joining a marriage ceremony of the very bison tribe from which Norayeep came. The outguard recognized her, and swore he'd kill me to free her until he saw Morak tagging after us. He did not demand that Morak be freed of the collar, and seemed reluctant to admit the boy to the festivities. Norayeep spoke in my favor, and I gained entrance by agreeing to leave Morak with the mules. Norayeep quickly joined the other women of the tribe. Her sister Initiates greeted her kindly as she took her position with them.
The chieftain thundered into the open circle with many wounded followers. They threw to the ground the broken skulls of seven broos as their victory prizes, then burnt the foul things in sacred fire. Thus the chief proved his worthiness and assured his acceptability to the priestess.
Narmeed Whirlvishbane was the chieftain's name, and his new wife was Varaneena Cow-eye. Everyone in the tribe came and gave them gifts, including Norayeep, who offered her chieftain rare presents from the edges of the world. But she said that I was to be the source of the gifts!
The chieftain was delighted to see me, and said so. I felt trapped and betrayed, even as I greeted Narmeed in my most gracious and diplomatic tones.
Each holy woman present received a yellow narl-flower from far Brolia which never fades if sung over each Godsday. Each warrior got a leather knifebelt, set with pretty stones, or a cheap bronze dagger. Norayeep told the chieftains to force me to reveal my Red Leather Cache, and then they chose as they wished. It was comical to see them scrutinize each time, slyly casting detection spells as if their secretiveness helped. An old and crippled Orlanth worshiper asked for a Guilder any time someone asked of rumors concerning a particular item -- he made enough silver to buy two kilos of rare coffee beans. Even after such care, the barbarians still chose from the trick junk masking the valuable items of my cache. Only one man, Vanish Rib-Crusher, received anything of value, and he took a blank Truestone.
Varaneena and her chieftain got a mule-load of salt, another of spices (mostly cinnamon and dried lemon), and a third of oats. The chieftainess got a silver tiara with a matrix for the Reflection spell (a costly item!). Narmeed also got five iron-tipped arrows to hold until he became a Khan.
No lesser chieftain ever fared so well from his wedding ceremony, and I spent the rest of the festivities swallowing anger and wallowing in self-contempt for being so duped. I was surprised when Norayeep returned at dawn, unashamed. Neither was she arrogant about the events, and that took the sting out of my lashing.
I sold the copper armor which I got at Pimper's Block for great profit, for that metal is holy among the earth folk. I still had some packets of herbs which I had got from the elves, and many people at the Paps wished to purchase them. A shaman of the Good Shepherd paid gold for dragonewt bones, and I was lucky to have a load of obsidian arrowheads and a bolt of red silk which some Rune women of the earth warrior cult vied for.
The Winter ceremony is one of great sadness and mourning for the earth cults. There were no elves here to liven up things, so everyone viewed all their deities as dead or dying. Earth-mourning is accompanied by great wailings and moaning, and some of the fanatics fell into fits or mutilated themselves. As a Lay Member, I viewed the external ceremonies, wherein such activities took place, and normally could not have participated in any inner secrets, but I had offered to cover the area with my Market spell. The Most Respected Elder had accepted, and she was glad she did.
The Middle Secrets of the earth ceremony occur within the Paps, underground, where those worshippers are then taken into the world of Godtime, where they can view the inert corpses and spirituality of their deities. This is a dangerous rite, for during it the worshippers risk Darkness invasion of the sacred area. Such an invasion then took place, with a great fury, as if we were in Hell itself.
My Market spell first alerted everyone, and the Waha guards moved quickly to the entrance tunnels. Then the area Warding spells went off, and we realized we were under attack from two sides. Our enemies somehow had found a secret entrance or had teleported themselves.
The first attack came from Morocanth, often accused of betraying the cult. They mostly were Lay Members, and therefore outside at the surface. But their leaders were powerful, and the raiders thrust deeply into the tunnels.
Trolls led the second attack, much to our surprise. The Most Respected Elder did not pause in her ritual, for the luck of the Paps for the year depended on her completion of the ritual without interruption. But her assistant barked commands, and a group of Storm Bull worshippers cast their rune spells and charged the trolls.
For a while I waited, trying to see which was the greater threat. I did not like being caught underground with foes on both sides, and was most tempted to fight the Morocanth, and thereby open a path of escape. But I saw the trolls batter the Storm Bull contingent, and without further waiting cast Orlanth's Shield, then a Bludgeon enhancement on my staff, and joined that fight.
More than my effort led the successful counter-attack, but I paid deep respects to the earth cult with my blood and my power. Some trolls did escape, fleeing down the secret tunnels even deeper into the Paps. The women warriors of the earth cult conferred briefly, then set off in pursuit.
The priestesses continued their rites, unfolding the secrets of the ritual. Even though I was present, I could not see them, but I knew from study that they were showing the secret sparks of life inside their deities, from which the Initiates lit their soul flames anew to help them against the Darkness season thereby.
Norayeep came back from the ritual strong and beaming. She, as an Initiate, did have access to the secret. Morak was subdued and dirty, and I realized that he had joined the fight even though unarmed!
For my spell I received Speak to Beasts from the Respected Elder, and she was most pleased with the aid they had received from my Market, or Neutral Ground, spell. I left the gathering feeling well, but now anxious to get to another bustling market of which I had heard.
The first Sword was Alain, and he wore iron armor everywhere but his left leg. The second was the warrior Naimless, from Dragon Pass. Two sword-wielding dark trolls attended her, which was very strange.
Alain was angry that Naimless and her friends would raise troops from among Alain's followers when he, too, was preparing an expedition against broos reported to be at Sog's Ruins. A bystander said that Alain's friends might be more tempted by Dragon Pass plunder than broos-killing, for the latter is fraught with danger and often yields little booty.
A Sword named Jondar Blackmane laid out the sacred circle on the ground, then the Humakti chanted and clashed their weapons. Though I stood with those in the ancient stands, I detected the live magic in the arena below. Alain and Naimless swore a Truth Rune oath, as normal, stepped to opposite sides of the circle, saluted to each other, and began.
Each circled a while, undoubtedly casting spells. The swords glowed, their armor wavered, the air inside the circle seemed to ripple, and Alain sheared away Naimless' shield despite her parry. Naimless' sword glanced off Alain's iron armor. Alain struck again, but was parried. There was no return attack as Alain drove in, hoping to take blood before Naimless' next magic took effect.
He was too slow. A small salamander stuck him from behind before his sword thrust home. Naimless had to dodge his falling body. A moment later the elemental disappeared. The combat had taken less than a minute.
Despite the damage, Alain rose. I could see his scorched flesh heal on his unarmored leg. Naimless used healing magic to put her fingers back in place.
Alain accused Naimless of un-Humakti conduct, working himself into a rage. Naimless now was backed by her friends (including another Sword) since the fight was over, and she waited calmly, then said that Humakt could judge it.
The god made no sign, so Naimless claimed victory.
She claimed a bison-load of provisions, and divided it among her followers. I was astounded that they had walked here. I tried to find Naimless afterwards to see if she would trade a rune spell from me, for it was clear she had done so to get the salamander, but I did not find her though I searched all day.
Delayed by the Humakti in Tourney Oasis, I was late for the opening. Already many tents were around the market space, and barbarian families camped in the plain. I was surprised to see large numbers of Morokanth here, for those animal people usually are kept from human markets. I feared that the Lunars might allow even broos to market here, which would test my vows unfairly, but such fears came to naught. Having viewed the market, I went to its High Priest and bought a booth site. He grumbled about my payment with furs, but I didn't get to choose my location either.
Settled, I sent Discorporate my allied spirit about the other booths to join in the Issaries gossip of the traders, but he returned only with Lunar propaganda translated into perfect Tradetalk. Eye-whisper said the temple was Etyries, not Issaries, but thought that all right. I agreed, but the weighty Lunar presence grew ever more tangible.
Leaving Eye-whisper corporate among my goods, I often walked about. Norayeep accompanied me, politely replying to all questions. She led Morak on a bronze chain leash not daring to leave him in the booth nor let him run loose, even if he had done nothing but rumble against the moon and make eyes at the food.
Other merchants, especially of the Empire, sought my goods eagerly, particularly the wooden stakes made in the Paps and the Truestones from the Block. Lunar traders as yet had not penetrated those districts.
A priestess of their Seven Mothers cult often sat at my booth and talked. She was pretty, and her voice always calm and sure. Her presence angered Norayeep, and made Morak more unruly then usual, but the priestess was not distressed. When she noticed Morak's horns, she was interested, and told of a houseful of horned boys and girls who live in the Empire, and who once each year dance for the Red Goddess. Morak listened quietly while she related that, but afterwards he slunk away and hid under the saddle blankets.
The next day a well-spoken Lunar trader began to drop by, every day with a new offer to purchase Morak. If the Lunar priestess was present, they pretended not to know each other, though I had no doubt of their common purpose. At one point the fellow offered me exactly twice what I had paid for Morak and Norayeep, and said I could keep the woman. That was when Morak leapt up and bellowed, then stumbled and crashed unconscious across the lap of the buyer. Norayeep dashed to Morak's aid, the startled trader leapt up sputtering, his spell broken, and I lost the sale.
That night Norayeep wept and told me of where the Lunars send their horned boys when they are older. She said she had sworn never to let this happen. Neither could I imagine Morak on such a journey.
Secretly we prepared to leave. I did not know if I could resist another session of the trader's magic. His subtlety disturbed me, and I thought it possible he would succeed next time should Norayeep and Morak be absent from the booth. We left before dawn, before the market woke.
Pavis anciently made the city from the innards of the Faceless Stone Statue after it defeated Waha in a wrestling match. Thus, say Pavis' priests, the victory of the Statue over the nomads is ever-present. Victory was not present when Jaldon Goldentooth took the city at the Second Age's end.
It is said that giants built the great walls, and seeing them makes me believe this to be true. The walls are 8 meters high in their low spots, and as high as 27 meters where the ground dips. The walls straddling the river were once formidable fortifications, but now they are open, walked on only by desultory raiders hoping to drop upon a passing boat.
The current settlement is outside the giant walls, as if today's citizens are not suited to such grandiose style. Only a few brave city priests pretend that the ancient ruined city is still of value. Trolls live there, plus some scattered bands of tough scavenger humans. Treasure-seeking adventurers regularly comb the rubble.
Valstatch Guilder, a prominent Sage of Lhankor Mhy, said he wanted to purchase only sacred stones, or else the fossil spells rumored hidden somewhere in Tanok's Puzzle Canal in the Big Rubble. When I would not sell my Truestone, Valstatch demanded either I take his offer to enter the Rubble or to leave with his anger. I chose to think on it.
While strolling, I learned of an approaching holy day at the nearby Sun Dome Temple, and that the new market at Corflu had not yet seen much business. Then I came upon a local procession, part of some minor neighborhood festival. I was unwilling to become engaged, but followed at a distance.
I detected the ambush early and fell back. Even from a distance I recognized Lunar scimitars flashing in the sun.
Then arrows twanged from a rooftop, and two Lunars fell. The processional guards engaged the other attackers, though at poor odds, and the city priest stuck the staff and idol into the ground and barked a command. I thought to cast Countermagic upon myself but, even so, found myself filled with an unnaturally peaceful feeling. I was well-aware that I'd been overcome by a very powerfully-backed City Harmony spell, and like everyone else I saw I did not mind. Even one of the archers climbed down from a rooftop to join us, and I saw it was Jarang Bladesong, an Orlanth worshipper I had interviewed earlier that day. I noticed too that the Lunar ambushers who'd joined the procession also studied him.
The holy staff was paraded all about the perimeter of a nasty Shantytown section of Pavis. We formed the head of the parade. The residents, wounded Animal Nomads without mounts, the lost at heart, and adventurers and mercenaries awaiting jobs all clustered and followed us, singing bar-room ditties. At a tavern, the priest passed the hat. A wheel on such a day was good for all the gods, and that's what I paid. The priest collected 22 Guilders, 7 clacks, and 3 bolgs. I volunteered to approach the nearest ale dealer, planning my best bargaining pleas as I went. My skill made an easy mark of the merchant, and I got twice the normal value of ale for the cost.
He had no use for the lead bolgs, saying he'd never serve a troll nor touch his money. I thought to keep them as mementos, but passed them back to the priest.
I reached my lodgings well after nightfall and realized that the time to return my answer to Sage Valstatch was long past. I took that as a sign from Issaries concerning my decision, made a note to dismiss the Lunar foe from my party, and decided to set out at dawn for the Sun Dome community. I would be foolish to engage in heroics when my mules were still so well loaded.
I protested mightily, but my best orations did not daunt their leader, a Light Son named Ruric. He pointed to Norayeep's slave bracelets and collar and asked, "Are you not the Keeper of the Earth?" and "Are you not the friend and guardian of Orlanth, our foe?"
I was placed in a cage with others being held for the ritual, who seemed even less fit than I to fulfill the roles of Orlanth for these sun-worshippers. I knew not even what rites the temple planned, and so could not prepare myself properly. As the Yelmalios prepared their circle, one of my fellows, a High Llama warrior named Gorali, spoke to me, explaining that the five men and women in the circle were husbands and wives, ordained five years before, and now their religion demanded that they give up their marriages for the priesthood.
Gorali said that one Light Servant was angry about having to give up his wife, and planned to enact the 'three blows of anger' of their god: Yelmalio had killed three enemies when his wife was stolen by the air gods, and the priest hoped to repeat the act -- on us.
Could I attack him? Could I fight back? I was totally unfamiliar with the rites. "If you distract him," said Gorali, "I will go behind him and kill him." I hastily agreed as they herded us out for battle. At least they let us arm for it.
Never underestimate the skills of this cult. They fought well, though one hung back after performing his minimal ritual obligations. But my foe killed one man with his spear, which broke, cast a salamander at me, hacked another to death with his sword, then turned back to engage me.
In the fight I used up most of my own magic, and much of my spirit's. Of that, half was for healing. I also used Dismiss Elemental, Orlanth's Shield, and my bronze helmet (worth 650 Lunars) was cut in half. In the end it was my allied spirit's great sacrifice which saved me, thanks be to Issaries.
Gorali killed our foe from behind as he promised, and received not a scratch. The priest did not return to this plane. Gorali received the priest's weapons and armor, as well as the woman as a prize, and that worthy gave me the armor, returned the weapons to the temple, and then mounted his steed and disappeared towards the Vulture Lands with the best of his winnings.
A most unfair fight. Most grievous was the life force lost by Eye-whisper, my ally, who traded it to restore my life. I did not think the florid, golden-decorated armor an even exchange at all. In total, a vile day which did not endear this cult to me.
The High Priest was a Lunar peasant named Falabdur, with a vile humor and unhidden dislike for Lightbringers. I did not argue the finer points of dogma, merely demanding that he fulfill his traders' obligation and sell me a place upon which to display my goods. He did what he had to do.
He gave me the worst spot, a soggy plot near the latrines. And he was the only person to stop at my site in the first week, drunken at that and pretending to believe my spot to be where he could relieve himself! Morak threw rocks at him and drove him off.
Three different barbarian groups visited the market, each stopping at my site, for they are careful traders. Since I was short of food I traded trinkets for meat, but they cheated me and it spoiled. Norayeep pretended no knowledge of this, yet it happened each time.
Fishing boats landed several times. They traded fish, but were stingy in the extreme. I needed the food, and I did not mind parting with some silver-handled eating implements popular in the Lunar Empire. When one of these wealthless fishers pulled into port, the High Priest called on us to 'seed' the fisher's catch so that he would relate his luck at other ports. I protested, but those looney brains forced me into it for the sake of the brotherhood. It cost me four porcelain knuckle-bones which would leap up and cast themselves a second time if so commanded. He was canny, that fisher.
In Movement week of Storm season, a Wolf Pirate ship hoved to off-shore. The greasy High Priest dashed about, urging everyone to strengthen the defenses of this magnificent market, and some did make that day a holy day by reinforcing the market spell. The High Priest then came to me with a stumbling assortment of caravan guards and said that I, as the only Goldentongue present, would lead the mobile defense force. As if I had martial ardor!
But only a single female swam from the ship, striding dripping through the market, carefully studying each booth. None tried to speak to her but I. She wasn't buying.
The Pirates never landed or raided. The poverty of our market was plain to see, even to a sea barbarian.
I hoped the Sacred Time would help. I took no interest in the Lunar ceremonies. The Etyries cultists seemed anguished -- Issaries protect me from their magnitude of sacrifice!
Then my mules sickened, and the Lunars chuckled at my agony as the animals died, bloated and gagging. Norayeep wept and tried to comfort the creatures as they went. But then the Lunar horses and mules caught the disease as well. A gang of baboons got rich dragging the bodies away and burying them. Everyone prayed.
On Clayday of Disorder week, Spring of 1615, a ship pulled into Corflu. No elbows jammed in the market, but a jingle of silver came, and an exchange of exotic items. The foreigners came to my booth and expressed surprise to see a Lightbringer here. Did I not realize this place gave off a crimson glow warning every Holy Country ship to steer clear?
As I packed to leave that night, the High Priest appeared, blubbering and begging. He tried no tricks or subtlety, and I could see he was half-drunk. He held a patch of leather with some odd writing on it. My Issaries senses recognized it immediately as a patch of skin from the dead god, Genert. The High Priest hoped that I would take it, and he muttered for a moment as if starting a half-forgotten speech, urging me to accept my destiny as one of the great Desert Trackers. I glanced at the desert, the barren fringe of which is called Vulture's Country. If I did not take the skin, the High Priest would have to set off into the desert within the week. He offered one-half of his wealth if I'd do the job. Two-thirds! I am sure I could have gotten even more, but I found enough profit for myself just in saying "No."
Then we turned and hurried north to the oasis hoping to use these before the week was up. I was glad to find that there were men-and-a-half here, for they are not as skilled at finding these plants as the Eiritha priestesses. But my hopes fell when I sighted, from the distance, a healer.
There was no escaping our ill luck, so when we came near I gifted her with all the herbs we had found. She sorted them neatly and cast Preserve Herbs upon them. Through all our greeting she was formal and cool. At least we got a decent meal. After we ate, the healer continued her ritual. I grew chill as she spoke a certain poem, and Norayeep watched me with alarm.
Chaos stalks my world.
Broos have bruised me, the Hand has pawed me.
I have taken up the impossible path,
And seek those who must aid my task.
You are not the first of my friends.
Others walked with me to Heal.
The Devil took them, they died.
I failed to save them, chaos grows.
This is the Lightbringer's Summons which all must answer or lose thereby the faith of their god. The healer was telling me that she had seen the foe and failed, that she was under geas to return and fight it.
I explained it to Norayeep. She said, "I have no vows to hunt chaos. You are my master and owner, but even that cannot overcome my fears. I am no magical warrior or blessed healer."
"Nor I," I said.
Eye-whisper said he detected the ragged ghost of Alain, sword of Humakt, plaguing the consciousness of the healer. I recalled that Humakti had prepared an expedition against broos active in the Sog's Ruins. The mere thought of a foe which could make a Humakti Rune Lord remain as an undead did chill me to my soul.
When so filled with fear, I always ask Issaries. He answered, saying that the path to Herodom lay in Sog's Ruins. Must I go? No, Heroquesting for me was voluntary, not compulsory.
But still I was obliged to answer to the cult demands that I take my part on a Lightbringer's expedition. A dilemma indeed.
"What price can I pay," I asked, "to fill my spot with something greater?"
"Only god-things are better than a Lightbringer with a brave heart," she said. "How could anyone replace your skills?"
"What about a Truestone?" I asked.
"An excellent vessel, Goldentongue, but who will fill it?" The question was rhetorical, of course.
Thus I bought my way out of a Heroquest, sending instead a spell-laden stone with all my rune spells for a week and all of my personal power for a day.
The priestess seemed pleased with this trade. I did not feel cheated, for my life path did not lie upon the Hero's trail of impossible deeds. But I was poorer, and had even less chance to decently outfit myself in Pavis.
The men-and-a-half sold us some meat for a silver, and we slept under a clear starry sky on hard ground.
I had anticipated such fees, but that made it no easier to part with my last treasure. I passed the rock from hand to hand. Each pass made it feel heavier, till on the seventh pass my left hand struck the tabletop from the weight. I turned my hand and let the rock roll onto the tabletop.
Dropping it lightened my soul. Norayeep was silent, biting her lip. Then Issaries slapped me with the realization of his secret that sets him apart from Lhankor Mhy, for Valstach's eyes gleamed with greed. The priest lived to own and to hold, while I followed my god to touch and pass it on when it became a burden or curse. I decided I would pass on this burden, and bargained further with Valstach. I must have been nervous, though, for I got only another 1050 Wheels for my effort.
The next day we returned, finding the temple crowded with priests, rune lords, and other seekers. Even a pair of Lunar people were there. Morak sat or paced, as rainbow lights from magical Detects and Analyses glowed upon him. The Knowledge cultists asked probing questions, poked the boy's scrawny ribs, measured his tiny horns, and generally made such a nuisance that Morak began growling. I cast my Path Watch upon him to show there were no enemies about. After a time Norayeep slept, and I may have drowsed as well, but Morak made no more alarm. As the sun set the second day, Valstach bade us depart, and to return in a week for news.
On that day, in a private room above the library, he told me these things:
"He is a child cast out from the world. He is not normal -- he is a mutant in the cosmos. He has a three to seven percent chance of surviving to adulthood here, where he is dependent upon the compassion of others to survive. Among his own kind he would have as much as a 34 percent chance. He is a menace to whoever cares for him. His father is a god or a great spirit, but not a human. Whoever delivers him must fear the darkness. Whoever owns him will be cursed."
Back at the inn I told Norayeep what I had heard. She said, "I had thought as much, and it is like what my mother told me."
"He is the son of a god, then?"
"I am not sure. She once told me of a dark ceremony held in some northern woods when the tribes sought Storm Bull aid to fight the Lunar chaos approaching. Father died against the Lunars. Mother died shortly after Morak was born. An aunt took us, but when some Impala people caught our herd they sold us separately."
"But you and Morak have remained together."
"With great difficulty. However, I am pledged to help him, my last kin, until he has others beside me."
"And that means?" I asked.
"I wish to return Morak to his home, where he might live in happiness with his own kind."
"Then what?"
"I will still be someone's slave," she said, "I have no choice in that."
"But I do," I said. I reached out and slipped the slave bracelets from her wrists, and the band from her neck. "You are free, to pick and choose and live and die as you will."
"You are very generous," she said, smiling. "You must have discovered that Morak's curse will be lifted that way."
"That's not all," I said. "Sweet Norayeep, I was a rich caravan merchant but lost all my goods to glamour, and I traded my allied spirit for my life. I sought profit, lost all.
"Here I see you, seeking nothing for yourself but sharing in all the dangers of a cursed kin. And I recognize your love and nobility. I did long ago, and sought for a time to own it. I cannot do so, nor should I by my cult vows. Yet I wish to share in it.
"Issaries shows me the way, if you will too. Can I trade with you? No profit, an even trade. Trust no Oratory or Bargaining but watch my actions."
"I must tend Morak."
"Let us take him home together, and spend our time afterwards together as well."
"We shall see," she said, and slipped her hand into mine.
We went first to the Pairing Stones, a remarkable monument, for one is pale blue and the other is pale brown. Both are some seven meters high and tilt slightly towards one another. On Orlanth holy days the Stones are a gathering place for various airy cults to meet, for this is the place where the first Wind Lord of the cult lived and, after he died the last time, was burned.
It was not a holy day when we arrived, but many Orlanth worshippers were there anyway. They were led by a Storm Voice named Farangar Horseteeth, who was preparing a ceremony to initiate some of his followers, and to get an allied spirit for a new priest. Krogar asked politely if they also could attend and I, of course, agreed. Norayeep and I then paid a complimentary 5 Lunars each to Farangar to become Lay Members for the ceremony, and thereby participate.
The worshippers stood at the south side of the monument facing northward between the rocks. Farangar, Krogar, and a woman I did not recognize stood between the plinths and questioned the candidates for initiation, while their sponsors stood quietly behind them. Krogar questioned some of them very closely, which seemed to bother the other two who already knew the candidates, and who seemed to be anxious to get on with the ceremony. But at last even the Wind Lord seemed satisfied, and the three began their invocation.
I was not prepared for the onslaught of Enforcers which came rushing from behind the priests. They hurtled over us, their yellow eyes gleaming hungrily as they searched for maldoers. The Wind Fists buzzed around at head level, zooming straight at a face and turning aside only at the last moment. The Flint Slingers leapt over the heads of the crowd and clouds of impests made ringing sounds as they passed harmlessly among us. Several people in the crowd began scratching themselves absentmindedly. It was a very impressive display, and I am sure that any Orlanth Initiate viewing these things regularly could be easily urged to follow his cult vows.
When it came time to summon the allied spirit, I could see a crowd of them roiling angrily about behind the priests. Krogar called out a chant "for the Spirit of Wind to come forth," and one detached itself and moved toward the new Storm Voice. There was an exchange of energies as they met, the new priest whistled and one of the cult cats ran forward, and the new ally entered into the body with a visible mood of satisfaction, and the cloud of spirits disappeared.
This should have concluded the formal ceremonies and even the priests and Wind Lord seemed surprised when the cat rose up on its hind legs and spoke in clear Tradetalk.
Lords and Voices, friends and kin.
Evil lurks, the Moon comes in.
The Wind calls, the need is great,
Travel to Swenstown, do not wait.
Then it fell to all-fours again, eyeing its new master. The new priest showed no hesitation, but immediately made a cheer and an oath to be off by the sunset. Farangar and the woman conferred hastily, then agreed to go also. Krogar finally assented as well, but only after a long silence.
While everyone bustled about preparing to depart, Krogar came to me. He did not need to explain his dilemma, for plainly he was torn by his contract to me and to his response to his god. I made it clear that I had no wish to cross Orlanth, and released him from his duty to me. He reminded me that he must fulfill all his oaths, and so charged one of his Initiates named Chokar Thon to lead the others of his band and stay with me. Thus he answered his call to adventure, but still met his earthly responsibilities.
As would be expected, the night was the busy time in the troll village. It teemed with trollkin, and many trolls stopped to speak about me with the local humans. None came close that night, though.
The next evening trollkin came bearing messages to visit their masters to trade. This is a normal troll custom, but I did not plan to submit to troll custom overmuch. By midnight some bold individuals had come. They wanted fresh butter, copper pots, fresh meat, new spear heads, and silver. They were awed by the plaything gimmicks I carried to amuse such primitives. They wanted to trade all kinds of troll garbage, including one fellow who came with a sedan chair filled with lead bolgs! I told them I wanted dragonteeth, animal tails, lead slingstones with the mark of Kyger Litor, and any pieces of magical lead armor they could spare.
On the second night I got some items I desired. One battered drunk of a troll came by with a lead glove and a sad tale of how it was all that was left of his once-glorious son. Norayeep was so touched she even gave him a jack of fermented bison milk. Later I was pleased when I traded two pinwheels and a bronze hammer for eighteen tails of various herd animals. I realized that whom I traded with was one of the troll hunters who delight in stalking the flat plain to kill Eiritha's beasts -- yet he was delighted by those toys! I think the troll mind is more complex than most people credit.
The village priestess approached my wares on the third night. She was borne by a sedan chair carried by six burly trolls. A Karrg's Son came before her, clearing the way. A swarmy herd of trollkin dashed about. Several armed guards blackly watched the crowd. The bearers set the sedan to earth as if they were one troll.
The priestess never touched the earth, but instead a trollkin ran and sprawled where she was about to put her foot: for trollkin, very well trained. I noted that some better-dressed trollkin followed after this regal presence, evidently to heal those damaged by the impact of her feet.
She spoke in halting Pavic, which I understood less well than Darktongue. She would not use her language, mine, or Norayeep's. I realized she either wished to keep her words secret from the other trolls or that she thought I could not bargain in a language I hardly knew.
She offered me a necklace of animal skulls and lead beads strung upon knotted human hair. She offered me a set of 12 wooden staves, each one meter long and topped with a differently-carved monster head. She offered me a log which had seven dragonteeth and parts of eight others stuck into it. She offered to trade to me the spells of Blinding, Summon Ancestor, Counter Chaos, or Crush. She asked for Create Market, Path Watch, Sever Spirit, or Turn Undead. Her demands smacked of Heroquesting, and Eye-whisper said she was followed by many spirits, some of them her ancestors and others bound.
Of the spells she wished for, I had but two, and one had been used to make our meeting place. If I gave up Path Watch, any ambushers might find us easier pickings. I bargained, finally got a Summon Specific Ancestor, plus the skull necklace and the dragonteeth. I also gave her a pair of silver earrings worth 200 Lunars, and 320 clacks.
When we were done, she turned, saying in Darktongue, "The Path opens before me. Business is soon at hand." Then she threw the clacks to the crowd, who trampled many trollkin as they fought for the money.
I sought Rune magic, recalled a weird dance by baboons, and cast for Summon Ancestor. It materialized between the troll and me. Its ancient eyes burned feral-yellow, and he yawned hungrily. I knew what he wanted, and cast my magic power to him instead of making defensive spells. The troll roared and chopped. I rolled out of the way as the axe bit the ground. The spirit whispered her name, Soraran, then wrapped itself around the troll and appeared to be gnawing on its neck. The troll ignored it and chopped again at me! I kept dodging and cast Orlanth's Shield on myself. The troll dropped his weapon and began clawing at the spirit as it engaged in spirit combat at last. I rose and ran to cover on a rock overlooking the ruined camp.
The campfire was embers, but the clear sky was bright with stars. To my far right I saw four people in melee against four berserk dark trolls, while to my right a single great troll chased a single person who was rolling and dodging as I had been. Already two men lay dead, I saw mules opposite me struggle against their tethers as a slobbering great troll with a broken two-handed sword chopped at them. Then I saw one troll, obviously not berserk as he rifled my baggage with precision and care. He was stealing my goods!
With my Shield spell still up I was brave enough. I ran forward and snatched a bow and arrow. A mule screamed its death throes as I leveled and aimed the bow. But behind me I heard a child yell out. It was Morak! I cast a generous Speedart on the missile.
Morak screamed again, and I heard the bite of an axe into wood. A tree cracked. I turned, and saw Morak bleeding and trying to push himself backward through a tangle of broken wood. The troll cut again, and Morak's hand flew through the air. I loosed the arrow. It went through the troll's arm and he dropped the poleax. I fired again without the magic. It bounced of his chest. He pulled out a one-hand axe after my third arrow bounced off him. Morak was motionless. As the troll charged me two more arrows bounced off him and one stuck in his chest.
A light burst overhead, blinding me. I threw myself aside in a desperate dodge as a warcry ripped the air. I head a grunt of pain and as I blinked I saw a golden warrior chopping down the stumbling great troll. The warrior turned and dashed off behind me when he was done. I found Morak's hand and, as the sound of fighting rose behind me, I chanted a healing spell and sealed sinew, bone, and skin.
When Norayeep joined us, Morak was already awake. We all hugged and kissed each other, glad to be alive, for five of our party were dead.
Our savior was familiar to me, and I realized that it was Ruric, the Light Son from the Sun Dome Temple. By the glaze in his eyes I knew he was on a heroquest. He was quite disappointed to learn I no longer owned the golden armor which I had gotten at his temple, but he was satisfied to receive a trio of Firesticks as a prize instead.
Ruric and Chokar retraced the approach of the berserkers and found a camp guarded by a couple of trollkin. They brought back the pickings of the goods there: jewels and stones and some odd items which might have been magic but were not.
None of the booty was mine, nor could I find the track of the thief who had rifled my trade goods. Just as well, I thought, since there were no longer mules to carry it.
At dawn we buried the tails of the mules and burned the bodies of the guards. Chokar recited the Orlanth prayer, and Ruric chanted part of the Rising Sun Prayer to the Lightbringers as the sun rose. Then we burned the heads of the berserkers so they would not become zombies, buried what we could not carry, and placed a Lock on it. Then we packed off with many ill thoughts of the Zorak Zoran practice of blood vengeance.
Two days before the holiday we came into a clearing where a copper-armored elf gleamed in the sunlight. An axe and quiver of arrows were strapped upon his back. I was flattered at first to be met by a Wood Lord of the cult until he addressed Ruric rather than me! Our friend was polite enough to direct the conversation to me, though the elf seemed distressed to converse with an Issaries priest.
We made all the normal elf greetings. I detected many spells being cast upon us but withheld investigation of their source. There was no doubt that we were circled by many elves right then.
At last he was satisfied. He said he was Frofey Oakheart, then welcomed us in the name of his people. I introduced the party. He glanced them over, told us we must make haste to reach the dance site, promised good rest if we pushed on all night, and led the way. We stopped once, and he gave us some sweet drink which relieved our weariness. We arrived at a place where Aldryami had collected a full day before the festival.
Morak had befriended a pair of Runners on the march, and they followed him about like pets. The day we rested, he stayed awake. When he returned he told us he had spoken with one old woman and a tree while we slept. He still laughed a great deal, and his eyes gleamed.
Norayeep, the guards, and I were not to be initiated, but Frofey said the elves were always happy to have an Issaries bless their ceremony. Thus I was the last to see Morak when he left.
His examination was simple, and I saw that the "old woman" was a staid Dryad whose path was covered with white bellflowers where she walked. Pixies dashed about her, ringing the air with their laughter. When Morak was accepted, some of the pixies flew around his head and led him into the woods.
I spoke briefly with the Elder Sister Priestess, then she led me to the next stage where the Initiates were being accepted. This was much more solemn, and the young elves who were about to become men and women stood stiffly in a line before a warrior who wore shining copper armor and carried a bright axe upon his back. I sighted Morak, quiet at last, among the crowd of other Lay Members. Several beasts stood reverently nearby, as well as a dragonewt farther away. The Initiates received their bow-seeds, were taught a prayer, then each of them joined an older elf who turned and led the way silently into the woods.
The Lay Membership broke the silence first as their childish joy broke forth unrestrained. The priestess came and we spoke once again, but I explained that I would attend no deeper. My wife, I reminded her, was also an earth priestess and I preferred to go and finish the ceremonies with her. The dryad told me when and where to meet her younger sister, who had elf goods to trade, then went on.
As I watched her go, other movement caught my eye. I turned in time to see a huge dark-brown man step from the shadows. A tail flicked Morak's arm. The boy turned and I saw that the man had the head of a bull. His horns were a full meter wide, and his shoulders looked powerful enough to wrestle a bison. I couldn't hear what was said, but Morak nodded once, his mouth and eyes wide as he stared up at the minotaur, then followed him into the woods.
Morak had, at last, found his home.
Our journey to Adari was uneventful, and Norayeep and I had much time to talk. Our elvish escort carried the goods I had gotten, but they would not go past Adari, so I needed pack beasts to continue. When we reached the city, therefore, Norayeep went to inspect the available pack animals while I went to find an Orlanth priest.
The Storm Voice was called Argrath Dragonspear, and I was surprised to see Jarang Bladesong, whom I had met in Pavis, among his followers. Jarang put in a good word for me, recounting how I had helped to cover his escape from Lunar guards in Pavis by getting them drunk. I thought that a good omen, and so Argrath seemed to think as well, and he agreed to marry Norayeep and I with Lightbringer ceremonies.
Norayeep was bursting with excitement when we met at the inn, but did not tell me what she had found for beasts. I thought that she had made a good bargain, and was happy to wait to learn what it was while we looked for others to fill out the ceremonies. There seemed a dearth of priests for the cults, but we were content to find initiates to substitute.
The ceremony was held in Issaries temple, and the High Priest there was glad to fulfill our god's role. He cast a Market Protection spell over the ceremony for luck, even though we were in an already-protected temple. He then invoked Issaries to bind us with his passing, and ordered that we hold hands for the rest of the ceremony.
The Initiates of the other cults then spoke. A healer called for Chalana Arroy to bless us and keep us whole. The Lhankor Mhy scholar called for his god to make our ground steady for us to walk upon. Flesh Man, who was a beggar taken from the street (as is the custom in Adari), called for all people to recognize the touch of the gods. The trickster already had gotten drunk to give us his luck, and called for more ale.
Then Argrath began his part. While the others were busy, he already had cast Cloudcall, and at his command the thunder rumbled and the lightning flashed outside. A wind rose from the south, a lucky wind, and Argrath called upon Orlanth to watch and protect the marriage. He invoked the ancient poem:
Stand together always, two are better than one.
Life is short, time is long. Life flees before us.
Take what you hold, make use of it.
This makes you better than gods.
The Ernalda Initiate invoked her fertility chant, but instead of one voice we heard two. Then the Initiate finished her chant, and the other voice continued with other verses to make it into a spell. At last I found the source, but did not recognize the woman.
When the ceremony was done, there was a feast. We gifted everyone for their parts, and some of them in turn gave us tokens of luck. As this formality was ending, I noted the chanting woman waiting too, and with her was a bison kahn.
With great glee, Norayeep introduced them: Varaneena Cow-eye and Narmeed Whirlvishbane. I saw that the man wore iron, and that the priestess wore many arm rings denoting the cattle she tended.
"Your presence at our wedding was goddess-sent," she said. "Your arrows have brought my husband great luck, and the goods you gifted us with have made us rich. They call my clan the Flower Bison now, because the women all sing to narl flowers. An elf saw that, and it led to friendship. Now we have worked out that they will return beast tails to us if we return elves we have freed from the Lunars. The Goddess is pleased."
"We would not want it said," continued Narmeed, "that we missed a chance to trade luck. We met your wife yesterday, seeking mules to buy. We forbade her, and instead gift you with seven fine bison, each healthy and one a young bull. They will serve you well, and Norayeep can tend them easily. Please take them, and bless us thereby."
"Done," I said. I could tell Norayeep was pleased, for she always was embarrassed to be tending mules. I was pleased too.
We invited the friends of the priests and Initiates. The High Priest of the temple sold us more food and wine, and I bargained quite well against him. The Bison people and the Orlanth people made good friendships that night, and as the sun rose we all looked forward to many fine days ahead for us. The crowd dispersed, leaving Norayeep and I with the bison in the dawn, brave and glad for our long future ahead.
These shackles originally were of dwarf make, but humans since have learned the Skill. They can be bought for a minimum of 3050 Lunars per set from a manufacturer, but cost more when purchased from a middleman.
The devices are adjustable, in that they can be tuned to allow the wearer only a certain amount of magical power. A minimal tuning is common, but an extremely low power level is dangerous to the slaves and not used in hostile environments. Thus, a relatively moderate allowance is more common in areas where the slaves will have to do some looking out for themselves.
Wearers are bound into the collar in a manner similar to a spirit bound to a crystal. Only the person who placed it on can remove it. If any other attempts are made to do it, then the wearer will take damage each time they try to remove it. Main force can do the trick, though, if it can be snapped by overcoming its high resistance to damage. The combination of bracelets and collar means that if one of the three parts is broken, the wearer will continue to take damage until all three are removed. Thus, it is not impossible to free a collared slave but is extremely difficult to do so and allow them to live. Note that removing the collar, as Biturian did in "A Praxian Marriage Ceremony", will allow the person to direct magical power in worship to deities, but not to use it for magic spells.
Not all slaves wear these. In fact, due to the cost, most slaves do not. They often have other types of collars or bracelets, often anklets as well, usually with a single link of chain attached to denote status.
The tribes of Prax constantly raided each other and took captives as slaves. They usually wore leather thongs about their necks as a mark of their status, but the harsh conditions precluded much oppression by their owners, and they did much the same work they did while with their own tribes. They were always restricted to Lay Membership status as slaves, but still allowed to worship their tribal deities.
The Lunar Empire supported slavery. It fit well into their philosophical beliefs that all living beings are slaves and they were always quick to exploit such symbolism when it suited their needs.
The Sartarite tribes of Dragon Pass had a system whereby captives were slaves, and specialists occasionally were purchased as well. Captives commonly were put to work as field or herd workers and allowed to worship most of their own deities except for Orlanth or any sky deities.
The Holy Country included Sartar like customs among most of their populace. A cult of freedom was there which opposed the practice, but did not try to force freedom upon unfeeling owners. The cult was popular among many of the Holy Country elite, and several large landholders did not practice ownership of humans.
