Richard Tuttle - Web of Deceit

“Is it always the red riders?” asked the girl.

“The Jiadin tribe,” nodded the merchant. “It is rumored that their leader has gone mad. They are the largest, meanest tribe in Fakara. The other tribes fear them and well they should. When I ended my last run through Fakara, there were villages in the Jabul River area that were wiped out too. I did a good business around Lake Jabul, so I was hesitant to make this run.”

“So it is spreading,” guessed Rejji.

“More than you can imagine,” nodded the merchant. “On this trip I have seen villages as far East as the south fork of the Meliban River devastated, which is about as far as I go into Fakara. There is no safe place in this country any more.”

“What does that have to do with burying the bodies?” questioned Rejji.

Brontos looked over at his passengers as if weighting his words and the effect they would have. Finally, he compressed his lips and sighed.

“Something is feeding on the bodies of the dead,” Brontos stated. “Wherever the bodies have been buried, a nearby village was destroyed the very next day. When there was nobody left to do the burials, the attacks stopped for a while. At least that is how it appears to me.”

“You mean the red riders are eating the dead?” quizzed Rejji. “That is crazy. If it were true, why would they leave after they killed everyone?”

“It is not the Jiadin that are feeding on the bodies,” answered the merchant. “The Jiadin are just doing the killing. I don’t know who or what is doing the feeding. There are rumors that the leader of the Jiadin is possessed by evil spirits. Maybe truth. Maybe not. I don’t plan to go there and ask him.”

“So by burying the villagers we would be causing another village to be attacked?” asked Rejji.

“I believe so,” nodded Brontos. “The tales told around the country are that the feeding takes place at night. That is another reason to be well away from the village as soon as we can.”

The trio rode on in silence for some time. After a while, Rejji turned to the girl.

“What village are you from?” he asked. “Aren’t you curious if it has been attacked?”

“It is a small fishing village on the other side of the Giaming Mountains,” she replied. “Brontos already said he doesn’t go that far. I don’t much care what happens to it anyway,” she added bitterly.

The merchant’s eyebrows rose as she spoke. “I have been over those mountains once or twice,” he stated. “Not in some years though. Tell me lass, what are you called?”

“My name is Mistake,” she retorted caustically.

“Mistake?” chuckled Rejji. “You aren’t serious, are you?”

“It is the only name I have ever known,” she replied. “I know it was intended to be cruel, but I can handle anything she can dish out.”

“You are indeed a tough lass to carry a name like that voluntarily,” agreed Brontos. “By she, I suppose you mean your mother?”

“She is not my real mother,” spat Mistake. “Her husband found me at sea and brought me home. He cared for me, but she always resented me and called me a mistake. After a while it became my name. I cannot remember her ever calling me anything else.”

“And what of the father who found you?” queried the merchant. “Did he call you anything else?”

“I don’t remember much of him,” Mistake admitted. “He died when I was still quite young. I do remember that he held me softly and smiled at me. He is the only person I have ever known to care for me.”

“So you ran away,” surmised Brontos. “Can’t say as I blame you, although you have set out on a rough course to steer.”

“I would rather be dead than to suffer in her house,” stated Mistake defiantly.

“But you have nowhere to go,” interjected Rejji. “What will you do?”

“I have a plan,” smiled Mistake. “What will you do Rejji? You are in the same boat now. You make fun of my name but how much better is Rejji? It is just a bunch of letters thrown together without meaning. At least my name is a constant reminder that I am someone other than her daughter.”

Rejji looked shocked as her words hit him. He was as lost and abandoned as she was.

“Actually,” smiled Brontos, “The name Rejji does have meaning. It translates from the old language to ‘Son of the Moon’. Tell me Mistake, what is your plan?”

“I plan to find the Sage of the Mountain,” she proclaimed. “It is said that he knows everything.”

“I believe that is just an old myth,” stated Brontos. “I have traveled most of this land and while I hear him mentioned often, I have never talked with anyone who has ever seen or talked to him. Not even anyone who knows anyone who has. What would you ask him if he did exist?”

“Who my real family is,” declared Mistake.

Brontos pulled the wagon into a spot near the river where a ring of stones testified to prior encampments. The old merchant moved slowly from the seat of the wagon and started to unhitch the horses.

“Can you cook, Mistake?” he asked as he locked eyes with the short thief.

“Of course,” frowned Mistake. “Why didn’t you ask Rejji though? I am not a housemaid you know.”

“Because I have eaten in his village before,” laughed Brontos. “I was hoping you might have more knowledge of spices. Besides, I am trying to discern your other talents. I probably should take you back to Khadora with me.”

“What is it like?” Rejji inquired. “Khadora, I mean.”

“Just inside the back flap is a tin with provisions, Mistake,” Brontos said. “Choose something that you can add flavor to. Fakaran food is the most bland food I have ever tasted.”

The merchant led the horses to the stream and Rejji followed him. Brontos looked at Rejji and sighed.

“It is much different than here,” the merchant finally said. “It is a well developed country with law and order. Bandits don’t survive very well there. Fakara is more like a wasteland than a country. There is no government, no laws.”

“Would you really take us with you?” questioned Rejji.

Brontos hesitated a moment as his eyes sought out Mistake at the rear of the wagon. She looked up to see Brontos watching her and scowled at him. The merchant shook his head and handed the reins to Rejji.

“When they are finished drinking,” the old man instructed, “tie them to that tree and get their feed buckets from the wagon. No more than a third of a bucket for each though.”

Brontos strode back to the wagon as Mistake closed the rear flap and carried the tin towards the fire ring. She glanced quickly at the old man and started preparing a fire.

“I don’t steal from friends you know,” she scowled.

“Well,” chuckled the merchant, “I would like very much to be your friend then. Let me help you with the fire.”

Brontos gathered the deadwood he could find easily and returned to the ring where Mistake was pawing through the tin and examining the small pouches of spices.

As Rejji returned from feeding the horses, Brontos lit the fire and sat on one of the larger rocks surrounding the ring. He pulled a pipe out of a pocket and filled it from a small pouch hanging from his belt. Rejji handed him a burning stick and sat on another of the large rocks.

“You never said if you would take us with you to Khadora,” reminded Rejji.

Brontos merely nodded and looked over at Mistake who was working some spices into the dried meat with her dagger.

“I don’t know what is best for you two,” the merchant conceded. “Khadora is a much safer place to live, but there are some things about it that you will not like.”

“Like what?” prompted Rejji. “What could be so bad in a civilized country compared to staying here?”