The sun was setting by the time Chainer returned to the salt flats outside the city. He welcomed the sight of his home but did not relax.
A small armed party stood on the path between Chainer and the city gates. Chainer recognized one of the shapes as human and another as an aven bird warrior, but the other two were indistinct. All Chainer could tell from a distance was that one was tall and the other was short or crouching. The human and the aven were dressed in the brilliant white robes of the Order. Chainer slowed his pace but did not stop. The Order were a passel of militant moral fanatics who sought to impose their rules on all the citizens of Otaria. They considered all Cabalists criminals and the Cabal itself to be a blight on society, despite the fact that it thrived all across the continent. Civilized Otarians everywhere did business with the Cabal. They willingly and repeatedly attended Cabal spectacles, borrowed Cabal money, and begged for Cabal protection. As far as Chainer was concerned, the Order only offered the possibility of a nebulous spiritual reward, and even that was contingent upon obedience to their childish concept of justice. The Cabal was far more concrete and pragmatic. It provided food, shelter, and education for anyone willing to work for it.
Chainer resumed his pace, quickly eliminating the distance between himself and the Order party. If he turned or otherwise tried to avoid them, they would surely follow. Best to confront them now.
"Greetings, traveler," the human soldier called. "On your way to the city?" Judging by the wrap of the Order members' robes and the insignias on their shoulders, Chainer made the aven as an officer and the human as a foot soldier. Beside the officer squatted an ugly, even more birdlike creature with a long neck, jagged beak, and vicious sharp talons. The other, taller figure kept its back to Chainer, but he could see that it was one of the Nantuko, a tribe of intelligent mantislike creatures from the Krosan forest. Chainer was uneasy. The bug-men rarely came this close to the Cabal's city. "1. live there," Chainer said, "and I'm on my way home." "Have you seen the light of justice, my friend?" Chainer was now close enough, so they could speak without shouting. "I have. I found it wanting. Let me pass."
"At ease, trooper," the aven officer said quietly. His voice was surprisingly human, but his beak clacked together at the end of each sentence. "This one is Cabal. Look at his eyes. They have that feral, vermin look about them."
"Let me pass," Chainer repeated.
The officer stepped forward. "I'm right, aren't I? You are Cabal. And according to the truce between your patriarch and our commander, we have the right to inspect any and all travelers on the road between here and the Krosan forest."
"Bosh," Chainer snarled and gestured angrily. "The First never agreed to that." "Take it easy, son. Trooper Baankis?" The foot soldier drew his sword and stood at attention. To Chainer, the officer said, "We just need to search you to make sure you haven't smuggled anything out of the forest preserve."
Trooper Baankis stepped forward, and Chainer looked over his shoulder at the city. If he could get past them, he knew he could outrun the man and the aven, at least until he was safe inside the gates. He wasn't sure about the ugly little bird, though. Or the Nantuko.
Chainer waited until the trooper was right in front of him. When the trooper reached out to take Chainer's dagger, Chainer dropped down and kicked the man's feet out from under him with a wide sweep of his leg. He drew his dagger and fell across the trooper's neck and shoulders, the point of his blade poised over the trooper's eye. He stared defiantly at the officer.
"Get stuffed. You're not touching me."
The officer opened his beak in a cruel aven smiled. "You're hostile, even for a criminal. And now that you've attacked us, we have every right to take you down. Luckily, I think you're young enough to be successfully rehabilitated." He drew his own sword, and the bird at his feet croaked ominously.
Chainer knew that when members of the Order spoke of rehabilitation they really meant brainwashing. As he prepared to fight and run, Chainer reached down to check the satchel at his side. As soon as his fingers made contact through the tough leather, the Nantuko suddenly exploded into violent motion. The mantis rose up and shrieked a trilling, high-pitched alarm. It flailed its forelimbs wildly as it tried to strike at Chainer, and it accidentally knocked the officer into the bird.
Chainer nimbly dove over the mantis's sharp- hooked appendage and rolled onto his feet. He began to run, but the mantis sprang into the air and landed well ahead of him on the path. It was still chit-tering and swinging wildly.
Chainer had never fought a Nantuko before and wasn't sure where he should aim his chain. He hesitated, and in that moment noticed that the mantis wasn't trying to strike him any more. In fact, it seemed to be trying its level best to avoid touching him at all, while putting on a loud display to drive Chainer away from the city. Was the enormous bug actually afraid of him?
On a hunch, Chainer took his satchel from his waist and held it out at the mantis. The Nantuko keened and fell back, seemingly terrified of the satchel's contents. Chainer lunged forward, and the Nantuko sprang away.
Chainer didn't waste the opportunity. He sprinted away from the Order party at top speed. He heard the officer ordering trooper Baankis to pursue and the frantic trilling of the Nantuko. He risked one last glance over his shoulder and saw the bug had turned and was calling into a small, swampy, wooded area of the salt flats. From within the stunted glade, something roared in reply. Chainer felt the ground nimble beneath his running feet and heard the ear- splitting crack of live timber being splintered as something very large came forward to answer the Nantuko's call.
Chainer fixed his eyes back on the city and concentrated on running as fast as he could.
Roup's tavern was on a lonely side street well off the main road that led to the city center and the Cabal seat of power. Chainer thought the term "tavern" was actually too generous. Roup's was a single room with a single door and a single foul-tasting grog on the menu.
It was a welcome sight to Chainer, however. People didn't come to Roup's for the fare or the decor or the atmosphere. They came to be seen and heard at the very edge of the Cabal's web of influence. Or, as in Chainer's case, to escape from the Cabal's enemies.
"The Cabal is here," Chainer greeted Roup through gritted teeth.
"And everywhere," Roup replied.
"I need your help, big brother."
"Ask, little brother, and I shall answer."
Chainer struggled to remain patient. Roup was technically his superior, but there was a clingy desperation to his manner that made Chainer's knife hand itch. He was flabby and slow, and Chainer thought he dressed like a molting parrot dunked in bile. Roup also tried to make every conversation last as long as possible, which made Chainer and everyone else try to cut them short. It was the general opinion of Cabalists everywhere that Roup deserved to be forgotten at the edge of the city. But the Cabal was, in fact, everywhere, and Roup was the Cabal's man in this sector. He also had the only means of direct communication to the organization's headquarters in the heart of the city.
"I need to use the grapevine," Chainer said. "It's important."
Roup laughed jovially and poured himself a half- goblet of noxious green liquid. "It's always important with you young ones. 'Oh, I've lost the message I was supposed to deliver. Oh, a mean elder stole my package. Woe is me, I stubbed my toe.' Relax, little brother. You'll live longer."
Chainer patted the satchel at his side. "I have a delivery for the First. I need you to contact-"
"The First is only twelve blocks away," Roup smirked. "Did you forget the way? Go out the front door, turn left…" Roup trailed off, waiting for Chainer to join him in a smirk.