D. MacHale - The Merchant of Death

After I finished, I hurried across the stone hut to catch up. I didn’t know what I was expecting to find outside, so I guess no matter what I saw it would have been a surprise. But when I stepped outside, I had to stop and catch my breath because I had just stepped into another world, and it was like nothing I had ever seen before. The hut I had just come from was in the middle of a village of stone huts. They all looked the same, more or less, with stone walls and roofs made of woven branches and straw. There were no decorations of any kind to distinguish one from the next. Some had smoke curling up from stone chimneys, which meant there were fires burning inside for cooking and for heat. The roads and pathways that snaked between the huts were dirt, well-worn and narrow. And why not? It’s not like they had to worry about cars or anything. All the huts were built around a big grassy area kind of like a town square, with a large, round platform about ten feet across at its center. The base of the platform was made of stones like the huts, and it was topped by a surface made of lashed-together logs. The setup reminded me of those towns that have a gazebo in the center of a park for concerts and stuff. But the stage was empty now. No shows today.

The village was busy with people doing whatever people do in a village like this. They were hurrying here and there, some carrying baskets of food, others moving a herd of goats. They all wore the same kind of leather clothes I was wearing, so even though I felt out of place, I probably didn’t look it. The people who looked out of place were Osa and Loor. As I described them to you, they were both tall, dark-skinned, and athletic looking. There were no other people of color in this village. Just the opposite. The people of Denduron were the palest people I had ever seen in my life. It was like they never saw a day of sun in their lives. That was strange because even though it happened to be overcast just then, I had seen three suns in the sky from on top of the mountain. Could it be that the suns here didn’t give you a tan? Or was it mostly always overcast, like Seattle or something? Whatever the reason, it was pretty obvious that Osa and Loor were not from Denduron, just as they had said.

The village had been cut out of a forest. Looking one way, beyond the huts, was vast farmland. I could see many people working out there, tending to crops. Looking off in the opposite direction I saw the mountain where Uncle Press and I had made our idiot bobsled run to escape the quigs. Any other direction showed nothing but forest. Not that I’m an expert anthropologist or anything, but this first brief look at the village made me think of books and movies I’d seen about Europe back in medieval days. The only thing missing was some huge castle that loomed over the village.

Osa and Loor let me stand there for a few minutes so I could take in the surroundings. I was about to join them, when suddenly I was grabbed from behind and spun around.

“Ogga ta vaan burr sa!”

It was a little guy with long scraggly hair, an eye patch over one eye, and a smile that showed more spaces than teeth. On each of his fingers was a different ring that looked to be braided out of rope. Ten fingers, ten rings. The guy was grubby, but he sure liked jewelry. I had no idea what he wanted until he shoved a furry-looking thing at me. I jumped back, but then realized it was some kind of woolly shirt, like a sweater.

“Ogga ta vaan,” he said again with a smile as he shoved the piece of clothing at me. I figured he was harmless and that he wanted me to take the thing. Hey, what the heck? Maybe it was a local “welcome” custom. It was kind of chilly and this leather shirt thing I was wearing wasn’t keeping me all that warm. So I smiled back at him and reached for it. But just as I was about to take it, the little guy pulled it back, held out his hand, and rubbed his fingers together. Yes, he was giving me the international sign, no, I guess it was more the intergalactic sign for “you want it, you pay for it.” This weird little guy was trying to strike a deal for the sweater.

“Figgis, leave him be!” said Osa as she stepped between us.

“Mab abba kan forbay,” said the little guy innocently. At least I think it was innocently. His language made no sense to me.

Osa looked at Figgis and said, “He has only just arrived. Go sell your wares somewhere else.”

The guy was a salesman. He seemed to deflate in disappointment and started to walk away, but then he turned back and gave me a sly, toothless smile. From out of his grungy shirt he held up a shiny red apple, trying to tempt me. It looked good.

“Go!” commanded Osa.

Figgis snarled at her and ran away.

“Figgis would sell you his breath if he could,” she explained. “They say he wears that patch because he sold his eye to a blind man.”

Nice. That’s a fairly disgusting image.

“Osa,” I asked. “Are you from Earth?”

Osa laughed and looked to Loor to share the joke that I didn’t get. Loor didn’t laugh back. Big surprise.

“Why do you think that?” she asked.

“You know English,” I said.

“You are wrong, Pendragon,” she said. “I do not understand a word of English. Come.” She left me there and continued walking with Loor.

Huh? I could be mistaken, but I thought sure we were speaking English. I should know. Aside from a little classroom Spanish, it’s the only language I know. This was getting frustrating. Every time I thought I was starting to get a handle on things, something would come along and pull the rug out from under me. I figured I better get used to it.

Osa and Loor were already way ahead of me, so I had to run to catch up. I had to jog to keep pace with their long strides while making sure to keep Osa between me and Loor. I liked the mom, but I didn’t trust the daughter. I kept catching her throwing me these “you aren’t worthy to breathe air that could go to someone more deserving” looks. She was giving off a major cold vibe. I figured it would be best to stay out of her way.

“I don’t understand,” I said to Osa. “How can you say you don’t know English if you’re speaking it?”

“I am not speaking English,” she answered. “You are speaking English. I am speaking the language from Zadaa, which is our home territory.”

“Sounds like English to me,” I said.

“Of course it does. That is because you are a Traveler.”

This was getting more confusing by the second.

“So, you’re saying that Travelers understand all languages?” Logical question, right?

“No,” came the illogical reply. “Travelers hear all languages as their own. And when they speak, others will understand them no matter what their native language.”

Cool. If this were true, maybe I’d have a shot at getting better than my usual lousy C in Spanish class. Still, something didn’t fit.

“Okay, so how come when that Figgis guy spoke it sounded like blah, blah, blah to me?”

Suddenly Loor jumped in front of me. I had to put on the brakes or walk into her. That would have hurt.

“Because maybe you are not a Traveler!” she said with a challenging snarl.

Ahhh! Suddenly it all came clear. Loor didn’t think I was who I was. That’s why she was acting all strange and aggressive. Of course, I wasn’t even sure myself who I was supposed to be, so there wasn’t anything I could say to convince her that I was me. Or I was who I was. Or…you get the idea.

Again Osa came to my rescue saying, “The reason you did not understand Figgis is that you have not yet learned to hear. You understand us because we are Travelers, but Figgis is not. You must learn to hear, without trying to listen.”

Say what? Hear without listening? That sounded like fortune cookie logic.