tied around his head. 'I ain't never known kobolds to be that brave and I never heard tell of any around here before.'
'And they ain't known for cooperatin' with each other, neither,' added another man who seemed to be in charge of the mules that pulled the wagons. 'I never seen any two of 'em who could
Enor-oba was equally puzzled by the attack but passed it off with a casual comment. 'Kobolds are stupid. They don't need a reason for anything, they just do it.'
Mika-oba had never spent much time pondering the intelligence of kobolds, but reason told him that it took a certain amount of mental ability to gather several hundred kobolds and mount a concerted attack on a heavily guarded caravan.
Mika was scarcely able to enjoy the fine Celadian wine or pay much attention to the comments and congratulations of his comrades, so deep was his feeling that there was something very wrong about the raid. The kobold who mentioned Iuz, the encounter with the magic-user… Everything pointed to something exceedingly strange afoot. But Enor had shrugged it off. And Mika knew nothing really-just misgivings and an incident without proof, clues… Who would listen to him?
Even after the wagons set off across the plains, Mika-oba considered confronting Enor with everything that had happened, but the thought of relating the humiliating experience with the magic-user turned his ears red, and he knew that he could never speak of it to the chief. He put it aside in his mind. It was an isolated incident, he told himself, of no great importance. There would be no further mischief.
He was bolstered by the reaction of the Guildsman, a small, thin, bald man with bright blue eyes, who clasped his hand and regarded him with a thoughtful eye.
Mika had ridden up alongside the Guildsman in an effort to peer into one of the wagons. Now that danger was past, his thoughts returned to the wealthy princess… if she existed. All the wagons looked more or less alike, but Mika couldn't help but notice that the caravan leader never strayed far from the side of one that looked to be pulling an especially heavy load. When Mika leaned over to get a better view of the wagon, the Guildsman's smiling face blocked his view. He engaged Mika in conversation about the kobold battle, but in Mika's opinion there was something shifty, evasive, about the man. And he never did get a clear look at the wagon.
'Forget them,' the Guildsman said of the kobolds with a dismissive gesture. 'Kobolds are as unpredictable as they are stupid. We will see no more of them now that we are out of the foothills.'
'What is your cargo?' Mika asked with interest. 'Are you carrying anything unusual, something special that would draw their attention?'
'Nothing more than the usual imported wines, lengths of sablewood, and spear points required by our brothers to the east for their continued daily existence,' the Guildsman said with a shrug. 'Certainly nothing that would attract an army of kobolds.'
'Nothing like a beautiful princess or coffers of fabulous wealth?' Mika said in an offhand manner, watching for the man's response.
'Don't I wish,' said the Guildsman with a rueful chuckle. 'It would make this job a lot more interesting.'
'That is what your messenger told me,' said Mika. 'The kobolds had ripped him up pretty bad. I can't imagine anyone suffering like he did to reach us to get help unless you carried something of great importance.'
'We were friends,' said the Guildsman. 'And he was a brave man. Would you not do such a thing to save the lives of your friends under such circumstances?'
Mika was silent, wondering what he would do in such a situation and hoping that he would never have to find out.
But in spite of the man's words, Mika was convinced that the Guildsman was not telling the truth. There was more here than met the eye, and it had nothing to do with kobolds.
'Well, it's good to be underway again,' sighed the Guildsman, attempting to change the subject. 'All thanks to you good fellows! There'll be more than a few coppers in it for you once we get to Eru-Tovar! I'll show you a good time and give you my thanks in full once we arrive in safety. No more kobolds! I've had my fill!'
Mika edged his horse-the stubborn grey stallion that fought his every command-closer to the wagons and slowed him to a walk. The Guildsman rode up next to Mika, and kept up a stream of meaningless chatter that Mika ignored. Seemingly more heavily loaded than the others, the wagon creaked along. Its driver was even less informative than the Guildsman.
The driver stared at Mika with a sullen expression on his large moon-shaped face. His arms and upper body swelled with huge muscles, and the reins were all but lost in his ham-like fists. Mika noticed that, while all the other wagons were pulled by a team of two mules, this wagon was drawn by four. Like the other wagons, it was laced tightly shut fore and aft, revealing no clue of its contents.
'What's in the wagon?' Mika asked the Guildsman one more time, the question unmistakeably sharp and brazen.
'Nothing that's your concern,' replied the Guildsman, all banter gone from his tone. 'Mind your own business, nomad, and let me mind mine.'
Mika touched his hand to his forehead in a derisive gesture and rode away, more certain than ever that his suspicions were correct.
The Guildsman was no ordinary merchant and there must be something special secreted in the wagon. Somehow, he intended to find out what it was.
Chapter 3
The caravan moved slowly across the rocky plains, jolting from one uneven slope to the next. The mules bent to their thankless task, heads down, eyes to the ground, and plodded along stolidly.
The wagons themselves were solidly made of roan-wood, purchased from Wolf Nomads who did a thriving business in the hardwood which was difficult to cut but impervious to rot and weather. They were covered with hoods of tanned cowhide stretched taut over rounded ribs, which kept the rain off the valuable cargo.
The wheels were huge, reaching halfway up the sides of the cowhide covering. They were made of roanwood saplings, bent and shaped while wet. Once dry, the formed saplings were married to hot hammered metal. A good wheel made by a master wheelwright could last a careful man a lifetime.
The mules were huge, brown shaggy things with foul tempers, but they were better suited to the terrain than oxen or horses. In the early days, the wagons had been larger, with four huge wheels, and the teams had consisted of four, six, and even eight mules capable of carrying larger loads and earning the Guild even greater profits. But the challenge of the terrain had quickly put an end to that.
As one left Yecha, the land was smooth and gently rolling. Sweet grass and cultivated fields stretched for many miles to the east. Then the smooth terrain ceased abruptly, giving way to rock and alkaline earth where only greasewood bushes could find sustenance.
The earth grew increasingly barren and rocky as it plunged through the rugged foothills of the Yatil Mountains, with only small pockets of greenery at the edge of the River Fler. And always the wind blew down from the glaciers in the frozen north.
Once across the river, the land opened onto the true stretches of the steppes, seemingly endless expanses of open plain. But the ground was stony and forbidding, and only greasewood and stringweed, a tough fibrous grass, were able to survive and in turn nourish the mules that could eat almost anything.
The large, heavily laden wagons struck rocks often, sometimes tipping over and spewing their cargo across the ground, killing or maiming the draft animals and drivers and often damaging the wheels themselves. The stony ground made passage difficult, causing many horses to stumble, go lame, and become victims of the roving packs of wild wolves that found horses a tastier than usual meal.
Oxen were tougher but required more forage and more water than the steppes provided. They also traveled more slowly, and their ponderous pace pronounced their doom, for traders used up their provisions and died or were slaughtered long before they found more friendly land. And so the merchants and traders had reluctantly traded the larger wagons for the smaller carts that could travel more swiftly and easily over the difficult ground.
The land was the least of the problems actually; there were far greater dangers from other quarters. While
