Part 45 (1/2)
”Then my best advice to you is to wait here in AfaHaal for another week or two until the worst of the rains are over before attempting to move east,” he told her. ”There's considerable flooding between here and ZuLaysa. The stage has suspended operation until further notice, and there's no alternate means of travel that I might in good conscience suggest to a lady.”
”I appreciate your concern, sir, but I can't wait, my business is urgent. Is it possible to hire private transportation?”
”If it is possible,” he warned, ”I wouldn't recommend it. You must understand that these yellow-fellows-that is, these Aveshquian natives-are an oddly mixed lot. Some are loyal and dependable as guard dogs-the most faithful and devoted of servants. Others are treacherous, malicious, and cunning beyond western ken. It's the divided nature of the eastern mind, I suppose.”
That sounds like something a Grewzian would say, thought Luzelle, amazed.
”You might find yourself a yellow with a wagon willing to carry you east, at a price,” the lieutenant continued. ”And he might bring you safe and sound into ZuLaysa-or else he might take it into his head to rob and murder you, or worse. I do not mean to alarm you, Madame, but with these natives, one never knows. I strongly advise you to await the resumption of regular coach service.”
”Thank you, Lieutenant.” She marched away, head and umbrella held high.
Find yourself a yellow with a wagon, he had said. Where in the whole dripping town of AfaHaal would she look for such a thing? She had no idea; she would have to start asking anyone and everyone, if need be.
Spying a stout covered wagon drawn by a pair of bullocks, she hurried on over to accost the owner, a burly character swathed in oilcloth rain gear. Like most natives he spoke fluent Vonahrish, and his reply was enlightening.
”The Esteemed Madame asks the impossible,” he declared.
”Impossible?” She scowled.
”Truly. The land between AfaHaal and the city of ZuLaysa is presently an impa.s.sable bog, treacherous underfoot, soft with hungry mud, and spotted with standing pools. My wheels would sink in the mire straightaway. Or if they did not, then the little hyuuls swarming in the water would torment and perhaps kill the bullocks with their venom. It cannot be.”
”It must be. It shall be. Somehow. Come,” she coaxed, ”you are a big, strong fellow. Surely you do not fear fear a bit of water and a few paltry snakes? I'll pay you well for your trouble. I will pay you”-she hesitated for effect-”twenty-five New-rekkoes.” a bit of water and a few paltry snakes? I'll pay you well for your trouble. I will pay you”-she hesitated for effect-”twenty-five New-rekkoes.”
His eyes widened. The munificence of the offer amazed him, as she had intended that it should, but he did not waver.
”No, Esteemed Madame.” He shook his head. ”Not even for twenty-five hundred hundred would I attempt this thing. Nor would any other mortal of sound reason.” would I attempt this thing. Nor would any other mortal of sound reason.”
”You do not understand,” she persisted grimly. ”It is necessary that I proceed to ZuLaysa without delay. I must go, I will will go.” go.”
”Not in my wagon, lady,” he replied, and must have recalled that so flat a contradiction of an Esteemed Vonahrish-woman's a.s.sertion was unseemly as it was unsafe, for he continued almost without pause, ”If Madame is truly set upon this course, then she might seek the counsel of HeeshNuri, who performs great wonders and marvels.”
”HeeshNuri? Does he own a good covered wagon and a strong team of bullocks-mules-whatever? Or is he a hurrier with a fhozhee?”
”No, Madame. HeeshNuri is HeeshNuri-in-Wings, greatest astromage in all the western counties of Kahnderule. He reads the Script, that one, as if it were his gazette!”
A mumbo-jumbo fortune-teller fortune-teller? Luzelle bottled the impatient query. Native astromages-regarded as gifted individuals empowered to decipher the stellar configurations known as the Script of the G.o.ds, wherein divine will is revealed unto humankind-were deeply revered throughout Aveshq. An open display of disrespect could only offend her listener, and so she replied politely, ”No doubt your astromage possesses great wisdom, but I seek ordinary transportation, nothing more.”
”HeeshNuri-in-Wings is more than an astromage, Esteemed Madame,” insisted the other. ”He is a master of magic, a conduit of that mystic power flowing into our world from the land of the G.o.ds. HeeshNuri directs this power where he will, and behold! Costly miracles occur. And the Esteemed Madame appears to seek a miracle.”
”A good wagon would do,” Luzelle replied, and took her leave, resolved to hunt down a driver of bolder spirit.
But the quarry proved elusive. Half a dozen times within the next hour she approached likely-looking natives attached to likely-looking wagons, and half a dozen times her offers, pleas, and arguments were turned down, always for the same reasons. Giant swamp...great quagmire...seas of sucking mud...the little hyuuls...dangerous...madness...impossible. Giant swamp...great quagmire...seas of sucking mud...the little hyuuls...dangerous...madness...impossible. She soon grew sick of hearing it. These Aveshquian natives, she decided, were a pitiful lot, deficient in courage and imagination alike. Their responses were drearily repet.i.tive, right down to the recurring recommendations that she seek the aid of their local witch-doctor, this HeeshNuri-in-Wings character. She soon grew sick of hearing it. These Aveshquian natives, she decided, were a pitiful lot, deficient in courage and imagination alike. Their responses were drearily repet.i.tive, right down to the recurring recommendations that she seek the aid of their local witch-doctor, this HeeshNuri-in-Wings character.
”Where would I find him?” she asked at last, without much interest.
”The house of HeeshNuri stands atop the highest of the hills overlooking this town,” the latest of her reluctant wagoners explained. ”Give me five zinnus, Esteemed Madame, and I will drive you there.”
”I will give you five hundred hundred zinnus, if you will drive me to ZuLaysa.” She saw his eyes light, and her own did likewise. zinnus, if you will drive me to ZuLaysa.” She saw his eyes light, and her own did likewise.
”Truly it is a great sum, a princely sum.”
”Indeed. It is not often that such an opportunity arises.”
”Aeh.” He shook his head, and the light in his eyes extinguished itself. ”Here is only an opportunity to watch my wagon and bullocks sink in the mud. Keep the five hundred, I will satisfy myself with the five.”
”You will satisfy yourself with none,” she told him irritably, and splashed off down the twisty little rivulet of a street.
The clock was ticking and she was squandering time. The pusillanimous locals seemed uniformly unwilling to drive her to ZuLaysa. Alternatives? Buy a wagon and team outright, and drive herself? Possible, but how practical would that be? She had no experience in driving a wagon, managing a team of bullocks, or finding her way across flooded, snake-infested terrain. Purchase a horse and ride east? Purchase a horse where? She had not caught sight of a single horse since reaching AfaHaal. Mule? Slow and difficult to manage. Well, she'd do it somehow, if necessary. In the meantime the hire of a competent driver was still her best possibility, and she was not quite ready to give up on it yet.
The next three natives she approached refused her in quick succession. When the last offered to drive her to the house of HeeshNuri-in-Wings for the sum of six zinnus, she broke down and consented. Perhaps this fortune-teller that people spoke so highly of might offer some useful advice or suggestions. Perhaps he would sell her a wagon. It could not hurt to ask.
The ride was consistently uphill, and problematic in the rain. Water rus.h.i.+ng down the slopes had turned the unpaved road to chocolate pudding. The bullock was up to his pasterns in mud, the wagon wheels sank and dragged, progress was slow and halting. And for the first time Luzelle began to appreciate the magnitude of the task she confronted. If a native driver, skilled and practiced, could barely manage to cover the two miles or less separating HeeshNuri's house from the town of AfaHaal, then how should she, alone and wholly inexperienced, hope to drive a wagon east through the floods, all the way to ZuLaysa?
Never mind, she thought, I'll do it if I must. I'll do it if I must.
The covered wagon halted, and she heard the driver calling her.
”What is it?” Luzelle stuck her head out.
”Esteemed Madame, we have arrived. Here is the house of HeeshNuri.”
”Good. Your payment.” She gave him a ten-zinnu piece that she had picked up somewhere en route. ”Now I want you to wait for me here. I'll give you another ten zinnus plus a bonus for carrying me back down into town. Will you wait?”
”Until the end of time, Esteemed Madame.”
”Very well.” She eyed him narrowly, wondering if she dared leave her valise with him. She decided against it. Valise in one hand, umbrella in the other, she alighted from the wagon and advanced along an immaculate white gravel walk edged with scrupulously tended shrubbery.
The house of HeeshNuri-in-Wings did not at all meet her expectations. A provincial native fortune-teller, she had a.s.sumed, would inhabit some dirtily bedizened little shack somewhere on the outskirts of town. HeeshNuri's dwelling, built of rose-veined dove-colored stone, bespoke wealth and settled solidity. The design recalled the perfectly proportioned elegance of the best Sherreenian town houses, but the tall oval windows with their elaborate surrounds and the small dome surmounting the portico were distinctly Aveshquian in style.
Marching straight to the front door, she let fall the gilded knocker, and a houseboy answered at once. He was garbed in spotless white linen, crisp and perfect, and even though he was only a servant and a native at that, she was suddenly aware of her wet, filthy skirt hem, her muddy shoes, and her escaped tendrils of hair curling uncontrollably in the humid air.
”Madame?” the houseboy inquired.
”I am Luzelle Devaire, a Vonahrish traveler, here to see HeeshNuri-in-Wings upon a matter of business. Is he at home?”
”Enter, Madame.” He ushered her in with a bow.
Lowering her umbrella and pus.h.i.+ng back her hood, she stepped over the threshold into a gleaming marble vestibule. Slender columns two stories high supported a dark-blue vaulted ceiling punctuated with golden constellations. She stood in the home of an astromage, after all.
”I will relay Madame's message.” The houseboy's air was solicitous. ”Would Madame care to add anything more?”
State your business, he was suggesting with an exquisite tact that somehow implied the unhappy consequences of refusal.
”I need transportation to ZuLaysa,” she explained shortly. ”I've been told that HeeshNuri may be able to a.s.sist me.”
”I will relay the message,” the houseboy repeated. ”If the Esteemed Madame would be pleased to wait.”
She wasn't particularly pleased-time pressed-but she inclined her head with such graciousness as she could muster, and the servant retired, leaving her alone. Seating herself gingerly on the edge of a western-style brocaded settee more than likely to suffer by contact with her soiled skirts, she waited. The minutes pa.s.sed and she lost herself in contemplation of the tessellated marble floor, until a flash of motion at the edge of her vision caught her attention, and she raised her head. She looked out through one of the big oval windows to behold the wagon in which she had arrived departing the property of HeeshNuri-in-Wings. The driver-bored with waiting, or else worried about the steadily deteriorating condition of the steep road-was heading back toward AfaHaal.
Luzelle jumped up, ran to the door, and struggled with the unfamiliar latch. By the time she got it open, the wagon was almost out of sight. She shouted at the driver, who did not turn his head. If he heard her voice above the rain, he chose to ignore it. The wagon rounded a bend in the road and disappeared from view. She suppressed the impulse to chase after it.