Allan COLE - Wizard of the winds

The next day everyone gathered at the temple for the funeral ceremonies. Gubadan wore yellow robes of mourning, while the villagers tied yellow sashes around their waists and streaked their cheeks with hearth dust tears. The bodies of the seven dead caravan soldiers were laid out on a raft decorated with the red streamers favored by Tristos, the god who oversees the Kingdom of the Dead.

While a drum hammered a slow beat, Gubadan prayed over the poor strangers who had come among them and sprinkled their white-wrapped bodies with holy oil. When the sun reached its highest point, Coraleandressed in the flowing golden robes with the scarlet fringe of his kinsmenstepped forward to light the oil-soaked kindling piled around the corpses. Then Iraj and Safar used long ribbon festooned poles to push the raft out into the lake. The current caught it, carrying it into the middle. Everyone prayed as thick smoke made a dark pathway in the sky. There was no wind that day and the smoke was carried high, curling under a bank of glowing white clouds, then streaming away in pale gray ribbons. Later, all said that this was a lucky sign.

As Safar bowed his head in prayer he chanced a look and saw the women from the caravan gathered in a quiet group. They wore heavy robes and their faces were veiled, so at first he couldn't make out Astarias. Then he saw a small figure slip her veil aside and a single eye peeped out. The eye found him. It was dark, with long flowing lashes. Safar smiled. A slender white hand fluttered at him. Then the veil was drawn back. Safar turned away, heart hammering, loins burning from the promise he thought he'd seen in that eye and fluttering hand.

Gubadan nudged him. It was time to lead the others in the funeral song.

The musette player set a slow tempo and one by one each instrument joined in. Safar lifted his head and let the clear, sad notes pour forth:

Where are our dream brothers? Gone to sweet-blossomed fields. Where are our dream brothers? Asleep in the Gods high meadow. Our mortal hearts Yearn to follow their souls.

The words carried far on the balmy air. And when the last notes fell, all were weeping.

Later, Coralean and the village leaders met to discuss the mysterious appearance of the demons. Safar and Iraj were allowed to attend the gathering in the large, colorful tent the caravan master had erected in the caravanserai.

Safar had never seen such luxury. The floor was covered with many layers of thick, expensive carpets. Pillows and cushions were spread around a central fire, where a servant tended a pot of steaming brandy. All manner of fruit bobbed on top and as the servant stirred the pot it gave off an odor so heavy Safar felt a little drunk from breathing the air. Curtains divided the tent into rooms and on one side Safar saw the shadows of the courtesans moving behind the thin veil, coming close so they could listen in.

"Here is Coralean's view of the situation, the caravan master said. The demons who attacked us were outlaws of the worst and most foolish kind. Their actions may even end up being a favor to us, for when they fail to return all demons will know the price that must be paid for defying the laws of the Gods."

There were murmurs of agreement from the elders.

"Then what shall we do about it? Coralean said. What is our next step? Coralean asks this, believing it would be best if we acted in concert."

"Alert the authorities, of course, Gubadan said.

Coralean's bushy brows lofted. Do you really think so, holy one? he asked. He looked around at the others. And who, after all, are these authorities? Coralean owes no king his allegiance. He is his own man."

Buzal, the headman, who at eighty was the oldest of the group, said, Kyrania makes its own laws. No one rules us. He indicated Gubadan. Our priest has superiors, which is only natural. Buzal grinned, displaying dark, rock-hard gums. But I don't think they talk together much. I'd guess that they barely remember if he exists."

Gubadan stroked his beard, then nodded in unembarrassed agreement. We're far away, he said. And the temple isn't considered important. Still, don't we have a duty to warn others?"

"That's a load of goat droppings, Foron, the village smithy, broke in. Meaning no offense, of course. What's to warn? The demons are dead and stinking. No more are likely to come. And that's that. The tale is told."

"But why shouldn't we tell others? Gubadan asked. What would be the harm?"

Coralean harrumphed and all turned to see what he had to offer. I do not know these parts, the caravan master said. This is the first time the Coralean business has carried me over these mountains to the markets of Walaria and beyond. It cost me much to buy the necessary maps from my brother merchants. Even if this first journey proves profitable beyond my wildest estimates, it will take many such journeys before Coralean's initial investment is repaid."

He shook his great, shaggy head. Even so, he said, if Coralean were a lesser man this incident might give me pause. I might never dare such an undertaking again. And I know my brother caravan masters well enough to say with some confidence that they would feel the same if they suddenly thought these mountains had become unsafe."

There were murmurs among the men. It would be disastrous if Coralean reported such a thing. All trade over the Gods Divide would cease. And more than just Kyrania would suffer. Life could become very bleak.

"Not only would there be no more caravans crossing, Safar's father said to Gubadan, but there'd be no more pilgrims."

The old priest winced. Everyone knew how much he depended on the donations of the faithful who visited the Goddess Felakia's temple and holy lake.

"Yes, he said, I can see the wisdom in your words, Khadji. However, what if we are mistaken and these demons are not the only ones? We are cut off here from the rest of the world. News travels slowly. What if others have been plagued by demons? Our silence could end up being an unnecessary and dangerous decision."

Iraj cleared his throat. All looked at him. He flushed at the attention, then emboldened himself to speak before the elders.

"Forgive me, sirs, he said. As you know, I made a long journey not many months ago, passing through Walaria on the way. And I heard nothing in the market place of demons… or any other dangers, for that matter, other than the usual tales of marauding bandits."

The men listened to Iraj quite carefully and with deep respect. Safar thought it ironic that only a few days before many villagers had gone out of their way to avoid Iraj, fearing the trouble he might bring from the outside world. Now he was a hero because he'd turned back a threat from the outside.

Gubadan gently broke in to explain Iraj's backgroundcarefully skirting the issue that he was hiding out from some of his own tribe. However, Coralean immediately caught on that although demons might not be riding about at will, there were other troubles to be considered.

"May the name of Coralean be bandied about in the company of swine, if I'm wrong, the caravan master said, But from what your wise priest just said, it sounds to me like the south is about to become a permanent battle ground for warring clans. This would almost be as bad for trade as the demons."

"Not if I have anything to say about it, Iraj blurted. Then he turned as red as a ripe apple for making such a seemingly foolish statement.

Coralean studied him for a long moment. Then he smiled. After hearing of your background I now fully understand where you got your fire, he said. You didn't learn it here, that's for certain."

He made a soothing gesture to the rest of gathering. I cast no doubts on the courage of the men Kyrania, he said. Your own Safar has proven there is steel in your spines. But I know you do not claim to be warriors. Which this young man he indicated Iraj"was surely bred to be. There were mutters of agreement from the men. It's also my guess, the caravan master said, that you are the son of a chieftain."