Erin of Calway 1

Surely you know about Erin the Great. Everyone does now. Entire books have been written about her deeds. The daughter of East and West is known throughout all the lands; I will not tell you what you already know. But I know more. I know details that the public record does not. I know the beginning of the story.

Let me tell you of Calway, where Erin was born. I find it surprising that so few people know of the place of her birth. In the year 1438, as the Council Wizards reckon time, the clerks of the Duke of Noks completed a comprehensive census of his domain. The entry for the Town of Calway took up but one page. I will recite it:

#V-N-C-103: Calway on Tuck

Population: 736

Location: Calway is on the southeast border of the Duchy of Noks, at the head of the Tuck river. On a clear day one can see the Leviathan Stakes from atop the nearby mountains. The Tuck river is too shallow and rocky to be navigated, but the Selurian Road that passes through the town is still alive and easily traveled.

History: Calway has been inhabited since the times of the Selurian Empire, perhaps earlier. At the beginning of the Dark Ages, the town was ruled by an Antfolk queendom for several centuries. Noks troops gained control of the town in 1143 without any fighting. There have been occasional skirmishes with local tribes of Blukes and Elit, but no major battles or conflicts.

Description: The town has never had a wall, and only four Selurian structures survive. The Granary now serves as the keep and center of town commerce, in addition to its original purpose. The Chapel is of the modest Late Empire design, capable of seating eighty worshipers. It is typically run by a priest of the rank of Friar. The Manor is deeded to a strong Lord, one determined by the regional Baron to be capable of defending the town. The "Tower of Art" was determined by the surveyor to originally have been nothing more than an old four-story stone tenement, but it has been inhabited by a series of hedge wizards for over a thousand years and has thus taken on an occult character. All other structures are wooden; no construction of any note has been undertaken here since the fall of the Selurians.

Economy: Calway is known primarily for its Ginseng export. If not for this valuable source of money, the town would most likely have been abandoned to the wildlands long ago. The inhabitants of Calway also engage in limited trade with the Antfolk in the old mica mine, as well as a small tribe of forest Elit. The bottomland is fertile but not rich, and supports subsistence farming. Taxes raised from the townsfolk are barely enough to support the Lord and troops that defend the town. There is no value in sending tax collectors, the taxes on ginseng are collected in the market cities.

Such a dry description, is it not? It tells nothing of the people, of their lives and hopes. True, it was written almost a hundred years before Erin was born in 1533, but things change slowly in the rural and wild places of the world. Let me share with you scenes that I became aware of as I lived in the town, in the year 1549:

In the Tower of Art

It was a lazy autumn evening, at least for R. A. Yoder. The old wizard reclined in a large overstuffed chair with his feet propped up on a cushion that was floating in midair. He was contentedly smoking a pipe and digesting his evening meal. He was dressed in a simple linen shirt and breeches; his faded and worn old blue wizard's robe was hung on a hook several feet away. The matching hat was over his eyes, shielding them from the bright harsh magelight floating in midair a few feet above the desk.

The purpose of the magelight was to illuminate The Apprentice's work. He was scribing at a rapid pace, tracing vacuum runes in mystic ink on thick paper. The Apprentice was too tall, too thin, and too pale. His long unkempt greasy hair framed a pockmarked face with a nose that had been broken several times by several different people. Presumably he had a proper name, but nobody, except perhaps his mother, knew it. It mattered little. When an apprentice became a true wizard, he took a wizarding name and left the old one behind anyway.

Before he was The Apprentice, he had been The Village Idiot. He had been sent to the wizard because it was obvious he was good for nothing else. But he was not stupid. If he actually had been an idiot, Yoder would not have taken him. They called him Idiot because he was weak and clumsy, and because he could not read the subtle little hints that people rely on to communicate. He was actually quite bright, and his habit of noticing things and then saying what he knew at the wrong time helped cause people to dislike him.

Teaching The Apprentice magic was easy. Teaching him to keep his mouth shut and avoid attention was harder. Wizards had enough trouble as it was. But Yoder had discovered the expedient of simple direct honesty. If you told The Apprentice what he was doing wrong and what not to do, he tried not to do it.

Yoder sensed a small disturbance in the work. "You screwed up, Apprentice."

The youth twitched, startled. "What?"

"Third rune from the left. Your downstroke curved the wrong way. That one is trash now."

"Oh. Oops. How did you know?"

"I can sense failure. Now shut up and keep working." Yoder drew on the pipe, and then exhaled, blowing a puff of smoke that formed itself into an equilateral dodecahedron. The Apprentice went back to work with renewed vigor and focus, convinced that a truly world-class wizard was monitoring his every move.

Yoder was not, in fact, a very good wizard, but he had more experience with vacuum runes than any other magic practitioner anywhere. Yoder had personally scribed over three hundred thousand vacuum runes. Every bit of ginseng that had left Calway for the past fifty-five years had been sealed in a vacuum-scribed container or paper pouch, to prevent the root from losing its potency. After all that, he could sense an ill-formed vacuum rune in his sleep. But now that he had The Apprentice, such drudgery would be a thing of the past. After about four years of training, the kid was finally competent enough to turn out enough vacuum runes for the community.

Yoder was ready to enjoy retirement. He settled deeper into his recliner. But just as he was ready to doze off, lulled to sleep by the rhythmic scratching of The Apprentice's pen, his hawk flew in through the window and alighted on the armrest of Yoder's chair.

Helil was a healthy young male red-tailed hawk, the sixteenth generation of hawk to serve as Yoder's familiar. "Looks like it finally got too dark for you." Yoder murmured. "Did you have a nice day out?"

"psss kreeeee pssss pss kreeeee"

"Really? That bad? Well, help yourself to one of the lab rats then."

"kreee kreeeee ps ps pssssss"

"Hmm, I don't like the sound of that. We should tell Kantz and see what he thinks." Yoder raised his voice. "Apprentice, after you finish that rune, get the normal ink. We need to send a note to the church."

In the Chapel

Helil glided through the open side door of the church, and then started flapping to regain altitude. He circled near the ceiling of the church once, idly looking for rodent or pigeon nests among the worn statuary that was affixed to the walls. But there was nothing. He was beginning to doubt his grandfather's stories. Every time he went in the church, it was clean and well kept. There was none of the exciting prey that he heard of as a child.

Helil looked down and saw Friar Kantz making a healing potion on the altar. All of the ingredients were of depressingly vegetable origin, without a single appetizing ingredient like the rodent spleens and other fun stuff that Yoder put in his potions.

The Friar himself was a large stocky man in his mid-thirties. He wore a brown habit that seemed too tight for his muscular frame. His face was dark and tanned, and his brown hair and beard were fairly long but clean and neatly trimmed.

Kantz ignored the hawk as it swooped around. He continued to ignore the bird after it alighted on the back of a pew and shrieked, demanding attention. After a few seconds of making a fuss, Helil realized that Kantz would attend to him in the proper time. He started to preen his feathers, waiting to be acknowledged.

After several minutes, Kantz came to a stopping point in the potion preparation. He walked over to the pew, and as he approached the hawk, it held out its leg. A small message scroll was tied to it. Scowling at Yoder's laziness, he untied the scroll and read it.

"The land is restless. The Slug is coming early."

Friar Kantz frowned. He would have to verify this. After the potion was finished, he would pray for vision and guidance.

But which god would he pray to? There were plenty to choose from. Kantz was the only priest in the town, so he had to be able to accommodate worshipers of all of the major deities in the pantheon. He had been officially ordained in the service of seven deities, and was knowledgeable enough to perform services for over a dozen others.

But this was not a task for a large god. This was an affair of the Tuck valley, and so he would need the guidance of the Tuck god. He decided to commune with the Red Oak Spirit.

It was past nightfall before Kantz had finished the potion and the preparations for the summoning. Once all was ready, he went to the chapel courtyard, knelt before the old red oak tree that grew in the middle, and prepared his mind for the commune.

Talking with Red Oak Spirit required great wisdom and patience. Even with Kantz's extensive training in meditation and communicating with the divine, he had found it hard at first to expand his perceptions and quiet his mind enough to communicate with the god. But he had persevered, and had achieved great understanding as a reward.

After only thirty minutes of chanting and praying, Kantz felt a presence in the tree; the god had answered his call. The presence then entered Kantz's mind slowly, but powerfully, like a root digging into soil. Kantz waited patiently for the mental connection to be complete. He relaxed, allowing his thoughts to match the god's sufficiently, so that he could state his question.

But this time, in an unusual display of haste, Red Oak Spirit spoke first.

"It is good to hear from you, my clever child. I have been lonely since my wild children abandoned me."

Friar Kantz was deeply troubled by this. The "wild children" were the local Bluke tribe. It was the shared worship of Red Oak Spirit that kept the Blukes, Elit, and Humans of the Tuck valley at peace. If the Blukes had abandoned the common religion, that was ill news indeed.

"I am very sorry to hear this, Father Oak. When did it happen?"

"It started late yesterday, with a messenger from the south. But they did not all leave me until earlier this afternoon. It was been several minutes since any have called on me."

Red Oak Spirit was a god of the forest and he still thought like a tree. As he understood the language of mortals, a day was when you were awake and night was when you slept. The forest only sleeps during winter, and so a human year was one day to him. The fleeting flickering of the sun was a much smaller time unit, so that must then be what humans called minutes. Kantz understood his words to mean that, sometime after the summer solstice, the Blukes had abandoned the local god. Some undetermined number of days had passed since the last worshiper had been converted or killed.

Red Oak Spirit had also not bothered to learn higher math. Any number bigger than three was either "several" or "many." Friar Kantz knew that it was pointless to try to extract precise information from a being who thought in geologic time, even though such intelligence would be valuable.

Instead he asked, "Have the fair children been affected?"

"No, my fair children remain loyal to me, even as you do. And my wild children do not bother them. But I have seen malice in the hearts of my wild children. I fear that the new god has turned my wild children against my clever children. Even now they gather, and move toward you."

Kantz was grateful for this warning, and he openly shared these feelings with the god. But the lack of precise data was maddening. Red Oak Spirit would not be able to tell him where the Blukes were, any more than a person could tell where the mice in his fields were. Unless the Blukes started burning the woods, the god could only perceive the general feelings of their hearts. He also could not tell the timing of their plans. The Blukes could attack tomorrow, or they could attack next year.

But there was hope. The Elit were still loyal, and had not been harmed. They could be counted upon to aid the Humans, especially if their common religion was threatened. There was time to prepare. Kantz thanked Red Oak Spirit for his time and attention, and requested permission to withdraw from the communion.

Red Oak did not withdraw. Instead it said, "You seek answers that I cannot give. I will connect you to a Sky God that I know. But be warned, he is an Old God. You must deal with him with ritual, not reason. Do you know the magic words of the Old Gods?"

"Yes, I do."

Red Oak Spirit began drifting out of Kantz's mind. As it did, the god pulled Kantz's spirit along with it, with its typical slow powerful pressure.

For a brief instant, instinctive panic flashed through Kantz as his spirit was inexorably separated from his body by the will of another. But he quickly submerged this panic in a serene pool of faith and trust, and went willingly with the god.

For a horrible few seconds, Kantz's spirit went spinning through the Etherweb. Hundreds of fragmented and chaotic images rushed around him as his spirit was shifted from one god to another along the strange and maddening paths of the place the gods called home.

Then, Kantz was standing among the stars. All around him he saw the blackness of the night sky, speckled with an infinity of lights. In front of him was a great glass eye in a bizarre metal face: the Sky God.

The Sky God spoke, in the language of the Ancients. "State the Magic Word."

Kantz spoke a word that he had read in an ancient book, long ago in his priest training.

The Sky God paused, then repeated itself. "State the Magic Word."

Kantz was about to repeat the Word, but then stopped himself. He remembered one of his teachers saying, "If an Old God asks you the same question twice, never give the same answer twice."

Kantz realized that he must have spoken the Word wrong. He carefully recalled the Word in his memory, imagined it written on the page of the book, and prepared to enunciate it properly.

He never got the chance. Soon after he imagined the written Word, the Sky God said, "The Magic Word is correct. The Mindlink is now active."

Suddenly, Kantz was looking down at the Tuck Valley, as if he was flying above it at a height far higher than any bird could reach. He was obviously looking through the eyes of the Sky God. There was no need to speak to the God or communicate with it in any way. He simply moved his eyes to focus on something and the God's eyes moved with his.

It was a very strange commune. For a brief blasphemous instant, Kantz felt that the Old God acted more like a Litling device than a proper God. He apologized for that thought instantly, but there was no sign that the God had noticed it.

Kantz began to survey the valley closely. The vision of the Sky God was incredible. Even though it was night, the eyes of the God showed things as bright as if it was high noon. Kantz focused on the road into town from civilized lands.

Kantz could clearly see the Litling merchant Linebarger and The Slug traveling up the road. But they did not look like they would to human eyes. Both living things were glowing with an inner fire. The clothing of the Litling and the shell of the Slug were dark, but their skin glowed brightly where it could be seen.

This must be the Soul Vision that Kantz had heard about. But there was no time to waste. Kantz pulled the vision back, and started to scan the forest. Soon, he saw a great mass of glowing beings, partly obscured beneath the leaves of the trees. Kantz could tell from the way they moved that they were Blukes, and that they were on the warpath.

Kantz struggled to measure distances in his mind. He compared what he saw with the maps of the area. He scanned between the mass of Blukes and the town, looking for landmarks. Finally, he estimated that the Blukes were a two day walk away from town. This was ill news, but now, thanks to the Gods, he was prepared.

Kantz decided to end the commune. He started to talk to the Sky God, but soon realized that this would accomplish nothing. Instead, he recited another magic word. The Sky God said, "Mindlink Terminated. Have a Nice Day."

Before Kantz had time to wonder about these words, his mind was abruptly spinning through the Etherweb. But Red Oak Spirit was there to catch him and guide him back to his body. Kantz slowly regained his normal senses, and the feeling of his own solid body was a welcome relief after the commune with the gods.

As Kantz opened his eyes, he saw the morning sun coming through the windows of the Chapel. He was not surprised. Such things are the result of melding with the thoughts of the gods.

At the Manor House

Aaron Lopez, Lord of Calway, Crystal Angel Paladin, Captain-Ambassador of Noks, and Guardian of the Duke's Commerce, meditated upon the same autumn morning sun in the center of his courtyard. He was sitting seiza-style: kneeling with his bare knees and ankles flat on the flagstones, resting on his heels, with his back perfectly straight. If his eyes had been open, he would have been looking directly at the rising morning sun.

Aaron was in his early fifties, and was halfway through the process of turning from a beefy young man into a wiry old man. His close-cropped hair was run through with gray, and his rough, shaven, tanned face showed several old scars. He still moved with grace and confidence, but nowadays he never wasted energy with unnecessary movement.

Aaron was starting to feel his age. The solid paving beneath him threatened to make his ankles sore. In his youth, physical conditioning alone would have easily sustained him in any meditative position. Now, he would need to add mental discipline. He stilled his mind, focused on the morning rays of the sun, and opened himself to their healing and cleansing powers. After some time, he started to feel the God's Blood in his body, the source of his powers, moving to the surface of his skin so that it might be energized by the sun's rays.

Most paladins would have stopped there. But Aaron's travels had broadened his horizons. As the sun's energy filled him, he also reached out to his surroundings, so as to absorb the energies of the earth, the power of the trees and rocks and soil. As long as he maintained the proper resonance, power from these sources would also flow into his God's Blood.

In addition to power, a small amount of God's Blood from the earth itself flowed into his legs where they touched the stones of the courtyard. He could not feel it with his physical senses, for the particles of God's Blood were too small to be seen even with the best lens, but he could feel it through his mental connection to the God's Blood already in his body. Taking in foreign God's Blood could be hazardous, but if done with care it would lead to great rewards.

The stirring of the God's Blood still came with the voice of Crystal Angel, his primary patron Goddess. She always voiced her disapproval of the foreign power, and She always used these meditation sessions to whisper commands and suggestions in his mind. Aaron did not automatically obey these, nor did he try to ignore them. As they came up, he focused on them, confronted and analyzed them, and then made a judgment about their merit. Sometimes they were good and valuable, and sometimes he decided against them.

The courtyard Aaron was sitting in had been specially designed by his wife to focus all types of positive energies, and a properly measured amount of God's Blood, on exactly the spot where he was seated. The flagstones were not regular squares, but many different geometric shapes. They radiated out from the center in pleasing patterns. These patterns contained, and incorporated, not just flagstones, but other fixtures.

There was an octagonal fish pond, with a bubbling fountain in the center and various floating plants on the surface of the water. There was a low wide square basin with sand and rough rocks, with curving patterns raked into the sand around the rocks. There were many plants of all kinds and sizes, potted in wood and masonry containers.

There were also several ornaments, like wind chimes and statuettes. These could be moved around and often were. As the seasons changed, they were often replaced by the Lady Lopez, guided by the foreign arts of her childhood.

The courtyard was, in fact, a large mandala sculpted of stone, crystal, sand, water, grass, flowers, and shrubs. It did not look mystical, however. There was no semblance of the occult, no trace of runes or ornaments associated with sorcery. Yoder feared and shunned the courtyard, but most visitors assumed that it was simply a pretty garden and its architect a proper housewife.

As far as Aaron and his wife were concerned, this was for the best. The Son of Heaven had decreed that no daughter of the Purple Roses existed outside the boundaries of Calif. Should any of his agents discover that the facts did not match his decrees, then the facts would have to be changed. The life of Mei Lopez would be forfeit.

But such things were far away, in both distance and time. Calway was just about as far from Calif and the West as it was possible to be, unless one was willing to live in a tent or cave. And it had been nearly three decades since they had left the mysterious land beyond the great desert. Brute-Magi were the biggest threat now, and they were far less fanatical than the men of the far-off western lands.

Aaron sensed his daughter standing in the door, watching him. He felt that her attention was operating on more levels than the five standard senses. Aaron was sure that she, unlike her brother Andrew, had inherited a connection to God's Blood and the magical gifts it bestowed. He did not know if they were the gifts of his line or his wife's, and he did not want to know. Both Kantz and Yoder had offered to test her skills and instruct her, but the old soldier had refused. He wanted the life of his daughter to remain happy and carefree as long as possible. Once a person becomes involved with the supernatural, there can be no return to innocence.

Aaron focused his mind on his daughter. The sixteen-year-old Erin Lopez was fully grown, tall and healthy, with the muscles of an active life and enough fat to outlast a harsh winter. Her childhood as the daughter of a rural Lord had been one of ideal moderation. Like the nobility, she had enough food and ate meat more than once a month. But like the commoners, she ate whole grains and vegetables every day and was not plied with courtly sweets. She had the sunlight and exercise of a farm girl, but without the crushing labor of constant work. She had escaped both the mean thinness of a peasant woman and the idle flabbiness of a courtly lady.

But while Erin may have simply seemed a healthy mountain girl from a distance, her skin and face marked her as being different. She bore a striking combination of the Western features of her mother and the Southern ones of her father. Her skin was dark olive-brown, and she had straight black hair pulled back in a long ponytail.

Erin's face was round, lively and friendly, and both her mouth and eyes were quick to laugh and smile. Her left eye was green, like her mother's, and her right eye was brown, like her father's. Most people saw Erin's features and attitude as idle or playful. But those who looked closely and knew people well saw intelligence and will in her aspect, and all of the locals could attest to her strength and energy.

Erin was, as usual, dressed mainly in her brother's old clothing. Her recent growth had left no better option, and the rugged outfit suited her rambunctious nature better than anything meant for women.

Aaron could sense these clothes; they had been in the family long enough for him to form a psychic connection to them. The short-sleeved cotton shirt was more brown than white now, despite the best efforts of the Lady Lopez. The solid denim pants had always been brown, although there were several patches that were visibly green, the result of a hundred grass stains.

Erin wore a belt of deerskin leather, made for her by the Calway tanner from the hide of a seven-point buck Erin had brought down with her bow. On the right side of her belt, in a solid leather scabbard of the same deerskin, she wore a knife with a blade as long as her hand and as wide as three fingers. The knife was her mother's, made in Mei's native land by an exotic process that left a pattern of light curves and whorls in the steel. On one side, they formed a design known as "the ladder of heaven." But the knife was not just for show. The metalworkers of Calif made blades surpassing anything in Eastern lands, and Erin's knife was the envy of the villagers.

Then there were the boots. Aaron could sense every part of them. They were good Antfolk combat boots, made of waterproof wyvernhide and held together by triple-stitching and rustless steel rivets. They could be trusted to take the wearer through a mountain stream or up a steep hill. Aaron had been issued them when he had earned his officer's commission. No other part of his original officer's uniform had survived his campaigns, but the boots had. When Aaron's feet grew flatter with age, he gave them to his son. When his son became an officer and was issued his own boots, they had passed to Erin.

Any courtly person would have gasped in polite horror to see a person dressed as Erin was presented as the daughter of a Lord. But neither Aaron nor Mei had any desire to dress their daughter in expensive and fragile silks and lace in order to satisfy a fashion that was foreign to both of them.

Aaron was proud of the way he had raised his daughter on the border of nobility and peasantry. Erin knew how to cook and clean and sew and chop wood, but also how to ride a horse and handle a sword and shoot a bow. She could fish like a villager and hunt like a noble. She could handle chickens and hawks with equal ease. She was trained in the lore of the forests and growing things, and also in the ancient martial art of Makmap. She could climb trees and mountains, but she could also read and write.

She was also responsible, when she needed to be. Erin would not interrupt her father's meditation unless there was something important. Aaron rose, somewhat stiffly, from the stones of the courtyard. He would have preferred to meditate longer, but duty called. Obviously someone in the village needed him. He turned around and smiled warmly at his daughter.

Erin looked troubled, too troubled for happy chatter. "I just met Friar Kantz. He wishes to speak with you immediately. And he says to make sure your blade is fully charged."

Aaron nodded gravely, then reached up to pat his daughter on the shoulder. "Thank you."

Aaron pulled his weapon out of the sheath on his belt, where he always carried it, and inspected it. It was a puny little thing, appearing more decorative than functional. It was the size of a large knife, but the blade, handle, and balance were all wrong for its size.

The weapon was highly decorated, appearing exotic and expensive. The handle was made of a strange and surprisingly dense ivory-like material that only the Gods and the Ancients knew how to make. It was a light tan, almost white, but it was also somewhat green. Many jade stones were set in the handle, forming the outline of a cute fat dragon. The dragon's tail merged into a tassel of green silk set into the butt of the handle.

The blade was the oddest of all. It was made of a light metal that never stained or rusted. The metal, like the handle, had a greenish hue. It also had many darker lines that swirled around, almost but not quite forming patterns. The lines seemed to issue from the mouth of the dragon decoration, as if they were a representation of its breath.

Aaron, however, was not looking at any of this. He was inspecting the weapon at a deeper level, looking at the energies flowing within it. After about a minute, he looked away from the weapon and to the courtyard, and began to look around it.

Erin had been watching silently, knowing that her help would soon be needed. Aaron nodded to her, and then said, "Move the large white rose bush to the fifth octagon of the north line."

As she moved the heavy planter, he made several subtle changes to the arrangements of the decorations, and when they were both done, he carefully dropped the weapon, point down, at a certain location in the koi pond. It landed in a groove in the stones, where it remained upright.

The fish stopped their idle meandering and started to swim in a confusing and complicated geometric pattern, moving in unnaturally straight lines and making very sharp turns. After about a minute of this, they resumed their normal activity.

Aaron held his hand over the water and snapped his fingers. The weapon leapt out of the water. Its handle sought out the palm of Aaron's hand like a fish striking a lure, accelerating through its entire flight. Once it hit his hand, which snapped back a little with the impact, it stopped moving. There was no water on it. Aaron slipped it back its sheath as he walked to his house.

Aaron went into the house and to the kitchen, followed by his daughter. Mei was cooking eggs and sausage over the fire in the huge stone hearth; she had begun when Erin came back with the milk, eggs, and fresh bread from the village.

Mei had already finished making a sandwich with the bread and thick slices of ham and cheese from the cellar. Aaron apologized for missing the meal as he grabbed the sandwich and headed out the door, which he left open to allow the refreshing autumn breezes to enter the kitchen. Erin and Mei could see him walk down the path to the road, and turn in the direction of St. Michael's Chapel.

Erin started to help with breakfast. She poured the milk into a large cast iron pot that had been heating over the fire, lifting the thick clay jug easily with one hand. She then began to stir the milk with a large wooden spoon as the fire heated it. After a while, she added in oatmeal, nuts, and honey.

While she was doing this, Erin talked to her mother. She relayed everything that Friar Kantz had told her about his vision. When there was nothing more to say, she kept talking, chattering to drive away their shared nervousness. "Where is Andrew, anyway? Has that clod not gotten his lazy rear out of bed yet?"

"Do not talk so of your brother." Mei scolded. "He has just been through a most difficult training exercise, in which he performed with distinction."

"That was three days ago. He should be able to function normally now. There is no excuse for sleeping half the day while the rest of us work." Erin paused, then shifted subjects, satisfied that she had scolded her brother enough for the moment. "Why are they working him so hard, anyway? Are they planning another war?"

Mei turned to her Erin, her face serious. "Do not think of such things." Then, in a lighter tone, "We will be glad of his training if there is trouble with the Blukes."

Erin couldn't resist. "Yeah, if he doesn't sleep through the whole thing."

"Are you talking about me?" Andrew appeared in the door. The twenty-two year old officer looked much like his father, or like his father had thirty years before. But he had, like Erin, benefited from good food and a healthy climate, and so was a little taller and healthier than Aaron.

But there were subtle differences, known but not openly admitted by those who knew him well. His parents knew that he was a good son and a good soldier, but that he did not have the same spark of energy and intelligence that the rest of the family shared.

Andrew was wearing his army-issued cotton nightshirt and long underwear. They were clean, white, well-tailored, and fairly new. Even though they were just sleeping clothes, they looked both comfortable and sharp.

Erin felt a small twinge of jealousy. She wished she had new clothes. Even though the ones she wore were solid and well cared for, they were wearing out under the stress of her constant activity. They were frayed and patched, and did not fit quite right. They were too tight in some places and too loose in others. Erin imagined herself in a new army uniform tailored just for her.

She reacted by teasing her brother. "Well, look who got up too late to help with breakfast but just in time to eat it." Erin spooned some finished oatmeal into a bowl, and then threw the bowl at her brother in a sideways spinning toss that sent the dish sailing through the air without spilling anything. Andrew was forced to lunge forward to catch it, and then stumbled towards the table as he tried not to spill it.

Mei was exasperated, but not surprised. "Erin!"

Erin shrugged. "I knew he wouldn't drop it." She filled two more bowls and carried them to the table, holding one and balancing the other on her forearm. Mei brought over the eggs and sausage, moving slowly and with more care.

As they ate, Erin told Andrew about the foretold coming of The Slug and the Blukes. He absorbed this information silently, saying little, but when breakfast was over he went upstairs to sharpen his sword.

In a Farmhouse

The thin wooden door of the Shuford kitchen burst open, and an excited boy of six rushed in. Like most locals of Calway, he had slightly curly blond hair, blue eyes, and freckles. "The Slug is coming. The Slug is coming! Friar Kantz says it will be here before midday!"

"Now don't get too excited, Jimmy. You know that it comes every year about this time."

"But it's early. I haven't even decided what toy I want to get."

Judith Shuford was surprised by this news, even if she didn't show it to her son. She was also a little worried, and the worry showed on her lined face. She was only twenty-seven but already looked middle-aged, worn down by a rough life on the edge of civilization.

Litlings were never entirely predictable, of course, but Linebarger had always arrived after the harvesting season was over. If he was here early, that probably meant he wanted to be out of Calway early, and there was no good reason he would want that. The Litling knew things, and he know how to keep out of trouble. He either suspected an early, bad winter, or some other kind of disaster.

Best to keep one's mind off that topic. And if The Slug would indeed be here before noon, there was much work to be done. "You won't get anything if we don't sell our crop. Now be a good boy and help me package the harvest. Wash your hands, and then go over to the table."

Judith stopped washing the breakfast crockery, leaving it in the washbasin. She would just have to find time to clean up later. She stood up, straightened her shoulders, and turned around to look at her farmhouse kitchen.

It was a small room, built quickly and away from the house, so that if it burned down it would not take their main dwelling with it. The walls were thin and drafty, insulated mainly with soot from the cooking fire. There was no proper chimney, and the fire was built in the middle of the room so that more people could share the warmth. Currently their big cauldron was over the dying embers of the morning cook fire, filled with soapy water and dishes.

There was barely enough room for a small table with three stools, one for Judith, one for her husband, and one for Jimmy, their only surviving child. Various pots, pans, cooking utensils, leaves and roots hung on the walls and from the ceiling. Also on the walls were two metal cabinets. Each one had a locked and hinged door that opened to reveal shelves. One of them was plain, and held pewter and spices. The other was inlaid on all sides with large magic runes.

Judith walked briskly to this Ginseng cabinet, took a key from around her neck, and opened it. The cabinet was a special kind of magic oven that prepared the ginseng by keeping it dry and at the right temperature all the time. It was possible to do this without the magic cabinet, but the process was extremely labor-intensive. The runes glowed briefly as the key was turned, and as Judith released the handle a small spark leaped from the metal to her hand, stinging her. She would have to talk to Yoder about that.

The spell was still working properly, however. The ginseng had dried and cured properly. As the door opened, the strong, lovely smell of ginseng filled the kitchen. It was the fertile earth and the verdant forest and the wind that came from the mountains on a crisp clear autumn day, and a thousand other things, all rolled together into a subtle and harmonious blend.

But she could not savor the sensation, lest the crop lose potency. She swiftly transferred several handfuls from the bin to the kitchen table. Jimmy, understanding the seriousness of the situation as well as the importance of doing the job right, had already laid out and opened several vacuum-runed bags and containers.

This crop was the result of weeks spent in the forest in the sweltering days of late summer and early fall, carefully harvesting the wild ginseng. Judith and Jimmy were a good harvesting team, but a mistake now could undo their work and diminish the quality of the vital cash crop.

Judith lost no time, settling into a routine she knew well. She sorted the ginseng by quality and handed the completed piles to Jimmy to pack in the proper container. They were not completely sealed, so Linebarger could inspect them, but they were packed so they could be seen and sealed quickly.

After about an hour of work, they had eighty-seven full containers. It was certainly not their best year, but it would do. After paying Yoder for the vacuum containers and the rental of the tea bin, they should have at least twelve silver crowns. That would be enough to buy the few outside supplies they needed, save for emergencies, and, yes, buy Jimmy some Elit charm or Litling gadget to reward him for his hard work.

On The Road

The Slug appeared around a bend in the road. It seemed to move slowly and ponderously, but that was just an illusion created by its size. On any unobstructed terrain, it moved at the same pace as an oxcart or a walking humanoid. A short time after the villagers saw a first head-sized eye emerge from behind the rocky embankment, the pack-laden beast was in full view of the village.

The general shape of The Slug was exactly the same as any other, more properly sized slug. The two big eyestalks were as long as a man is tall, as thick as a leg at the base and as thick as an arm at the tip. However, once these met the head, the biggest change became apparent. The skin of The Slug, from head to tail, was covered with segmented, chitinous armor plating. Each plate was about two strides long and as thick as a hand. The head was covered in a smooth curving plate that resembled a knight's helmet, but the rest of the plates were rough and spiny. As The Slug moved forward, these plates slid back and forth, sometimes overlapping and sometimes coming apart to reveal the skin of The Slug beneath.

Without these plates, The Slug would have been as tall and as wide as a man, and as long as three houses side by side. The plates and their spines made it seem quite larger. Nobody knew if these plates were a natural part of The Slug's body, or if they were added on in the same way that a caddis fly larvae builds a cocoon out of the debris on the creek bottom.

Further adding to the apparent size were the array of bags, trunks, ropes, and tools that were attached to all of the spikes on the armor plating. The Slug was a tireless beast of burden; it seemed to carry more material possessions than a dozen families would possess. It was an entire merchant convoy all by itself. In true Litling style, there was no order to this medley of stuff. It seemed to be simply heaped up at random, but a careful look revealed that everything was in fact sturdily and skillfully tied to The Slug by good ropes and belts. And there was, somehow, an inviting charm to the arrangement. It made the viewer want to rummage through and see what was inside. It invited openness and speculation.

However, the thing that attracted the most attention was Linebarger the Litling himself. Although he was only half as tall as a man, he dominated people's attention by his sheer presence, drawing their eyes away from the bizarre slug and its mystery packages. He sat in a fancy sequined saddle draped over the smooth head plate of The Slug. He was dressed in a funny black suit, impeccably clean, and he wore a ridiculous black top hat that was half as tall as he was. He wore a garish pink and orange scarf around his neck, and his bare feet and ankles were decorated with rings and brightly colored tassels. In one hand he held an ordinary riding whip, directing The Slug by swishing it near one or the other of the eyestalks when he wanted it to turn.

In the other hand he twirled a cane between his fingers. It was made out of a grayish substance that reflected light in funny ways, making its surface ripple with interesting patterns. On top of the cane there was a carving of a dragon's head, with its mouth open. The dragon seemed cold and fierce, completely at odds with the attitude of its owner. This cane was another one of Linebarger's mysteries. He was obviously quite fond of it, and nobody had ever seen him without it. It was the general belief that Linebarger could make poison darts shoot out of the mouth, since the Litling seemed to carry no other way of defending himself.

As The Slug got close to the village, it sped up and altered its course. It had obviously smelled or sensed the heap of rubbish and night soil that had been made near the Granary in anticipation of its arrival. Linebarger let it move toward its food, and turned his attention to the villagers. Smiling broadly, he started his familiar speech.

At the Granary

It seemed like the entire town was gathered in the courtyard around Linebarger and The Slug. The Litling's quick eyes took them all in. Aaron was there, looking grim and regal in his old paladin's uniform. Andrew was there, trying to look grim and regal in his new officer's uniform. Erin was there, looking excited and impatient in her sturdy old clothes.

Yoder was there, idly leaning on his staff and smoking his pipe. The Apprentice was there, staggering under the weight and bulk of a dozen packages of vacuum containers and spell components to trade. Kantz was there, with a large backpack full of healing potions to trade.

There were also farmers and housewives of the village, nearly two hundred of them. The Litling dug deep into his salesman's memory for their names: Propst, Huffman, Bumgarner, Shuford, Bolch, Kline, Sigmon, Gladden. There were also a several Elit and Antfolk around, most of them with goods to trade.

Linebarger also saw more tension and wariness than he had ever seen in this village before. All of the men were armed with knives or axes. All of the women held their children close. Kantz wore more holy symbols than usual. Andrew had his rapier, and Aaron had that strange weapon.

The keen-eyed Litling glanced up to the roof of the Granary. Mei Lopez was there, with her repeating crossbow. There were also a few Elit braves with their hunting bows. The warnings from his friend were confirmed, then. There was trouble brewing in the Tuck valley.

While he was observing all this, Linebarger was talking and setting up shop at the same time, dexterously scampering over The Slug, untying a rope there, fastening a buckle here. In a twinkle, he had unfurled an awning, moved a plank into place, and unpacked several bags of goods, creating a storefront from a bundle of bags.

"Greetings, people of Calway. It is always such a pleasure to visit this town and this valley. I can hardly believe that you receive so few travelers. But never fear, for you can trust that I will always be here, paying you in good coin for the results of your honest work, and bringing the wonders of the world to your doorstep."

But now the speech changed, "I apologize for coming early, and it is with much regret that I will leave early. But forces beyond my control compel me to keep moving. I must be heading on the road back to Noks before sundown."

There was a murmur at this. Linebarger usually stayed a week or more, setting up a large colorful tent in the town square. He would buy ginseng and sell goods and trinkets, haggling cheerfully and at length over every transaction. Then he took The Slug to the mine to visit and trade with the Antfolk, and after that he spent a week with the Elit, and then he stayed in the town for a few more days on his way back to the city.

Linebarger raised his voice, forcing his tone to be cheerful again. "Let the market day begin!"

All of the villagers with tea to sell began to rush to The Slug. All of the people were afraid to miss the chance to trade their valuable tea. Too many people were moving and shouting at once. Linebarger, completely unprepared for this, tried to talk to only one person at once but found it impossible. His skill was generating excitement, not quashing it. The people began to jostle each other. A child got separated from his mother and started to cry.

Aaron reacted quickly to the disturbance before it could grow worse. He spoke, his voice deep and booming, as if simultaneously resonating from the highest heavens and the bones of the earth.

"Halt!"

All of the villagers simply stopped moving. It seemed as if the command from their lord had erased all will to move and rooted their feet to the ground. There was silence as everybody looked at Aaron. A tall rectangular boulder had emerged from the ground beneath them, so that he stood towering above the crowd.

Aaron did not need to raise his voice now. He spoke softly, almost too softly, as he stared into the faces of his subjects. They strained to hear him. "Nobody will leave here without money for their tea. You will go to Linebarger one by one. He will inspect your tea and immediately offer a fair price. He will not haggle. You will not haggle. Ms. Hale, you are first. Then Mr. Covington. Then Mrs. Styles, Ms. Harwell, Mrs. Ekard, Ms. Holler, Mr. Canup. Form a line. Everybody else, go trade with the Elit and Antfolk. They will give you credit until you get your coins from Linebarger.

Aaron finished talking. He simply stood on that stone, glaring down at the crowd and radiating an aura of law and order. Everyone quickly and quietly followed his commands, realizing the wisdom in them.

Linebarger inspect Ms. Hale's tea, and soon offered a very reasonable price for it. Ms. Hale thanked him gladly and took the money quickly, as if afraid that he would change his mind. As Linebarger began to look at Mr. Covington's tea, he considered his actions. He knew that he was not fooled by Aaron's little trick. He could have haggled if he had wanted to, but getting out of town before the Blukes came was worth losing a few hundred crowns.

The trading continued all day. Under Aaron's gaze, the villagers and merchants finished in one morning and afternoon what would normally have taken a week. In all that time, he did not move. He simply stood there with his arms crossed, like a statue.

Finally, everyone had finished their essential trading. The villagers still had money for toys and charms to brighten their houses, but Linebarger began to pack up The Slug anyway. As he rode out of the village, the rock Aaron was standing on sank back into the ground. He stopped his vigilant watch, confident that there was no threat of disturbance now.

The sky was getting dark, but the hearts of the people began to lighten. Everyone was beginning to feel more relaxed after the day of hurried trading. The grim businesslike atmosphere of the day retreated, replaced by pent-up feelings of festivity.

The Elit and Antfolk traders stayed, anticipating a good night. The villagers were flush with coins, and eager to enjoy themselves. Linebarger was not going to be around, so they would not have to compete with the Litling's exotic wonders.

For the first time all day, casks of wine and ale were opened. The villagers gathered a large pile of wood and old debris in the middle of the road, and Yoder turned it into a roaring bonfire with a wave of his staff. Everyone began to dance and sing and play music on pipes and flutes, and they were surprisingly good at it.

Aaron entered The Granary and took the stairs to the top of the five-story keep-like structure. He thanked the Elit for their vigilance, paid them a small silver coin each, and gave them leave to go down and enjoy the festivities.

Aaron knew the local Bluke tribe. They always attacked during the day. He knew that the main force was still at least a day away, but he had been worried about skirmishers and raiding parties. When they raided, the Blukes preferred to harass the target for a period of time, causing fear and doubt, and then march in with a visible show of force to demand tribute. They were wild and lawless, but they were not fell creatures of the night.

Perhaps it was a mistake to allow such revelry. If the Blukes raided tomorrow morning, then the villagers would not be able to defend themselves well. But Aaron did not know that they would attack tomorrow. The main force could wait a week or more. Forcing wakeful vigilance for all that time would do far more harm to everyone's fighting ability than a few casks of ale. Better to allow them their festivity. Fond memories would greatly aid in focusing their will when the time came to fight.

Aaron and Mei were alone on the rooftop now. The paladin had his left arm over his wife's shoulders, holding her close in the chilly night breezes. Sounds of singing and music wafted up. They stood there in silence as they watched the festivities below.

Friar Kantz had managed to organize a lively dance around the bonfire. To be precise, he had somehow gotten all of the Human, Antfolk, and Elit musicians together to play the same tune in reasonable harmony, and this tune had created the dance. The light of the fire caused flickering shadows of dancing people to play across the walls and the rest of the crowd.

There were many smaller shows on the edges of the market square. Each of them had attracted an appreciative crowd. An Antfolk was doing a sword-swallowing act. Yoder was making the end of his staff glow in strange bright colors as he slowly twirled it around. An Elit was making seeds sprout and grow flowers in the palm of her hand. A Human was balancing on the back of a chair and juggling four flaming torches.

Mei almost rushed down when she looked closer and saw that this crazy person was her daughter, but Aaron stopped her. He had been forced to intervene during the day, to suppress the will and mirth of the people below. They all needed their outlet now; there should not be any suppression of festivities. He would simply wait and chew her out in the morning. He told Mei to let her enjoy the night, and trust that Yoder could extinguish her if she set herself on fire.

But then, he saw a bright green flash down the road to Noks. An instant later, there was the slightest tremor in the ground, noticed by those like Aaron who were attuned to the earth. He estimated that it originated from the place where Linebarger would be if he had kept at his standard speed.

But while the first flash and tremor were noticed by a select few, everyone heard what came next. It was the battle-yell of several hundred Blukes.