Urbahnos Kostanis was such a one. A native of the Kingdom of Karaleenos and scion of a noble house of that realm, he -had nonetheless—once irrevocably exiled to this assignment in punishment for having killed the son of a powerful man in a duel—applied his keen mental faculties so assiduously that in the bare ten years he had lived among the barbarians he had become a very wealthy merchant and was even now exchanging letters with those who would arrange to purchase his pardon from the Royal House of Karaleenos, King Zenos and his ministers being always ready to see justice done if the price was right. Unlike the other two Ehleenee resident in Pahdookahport—Pehtros Ziplonos of Kehnooryos Mahkedohnya and Kenos Trindis of Kehnooryos Ehlas—Urbahnos’ knowledge of the merchandise he was offered and sometimes bought was as thorough and as detailed as that of his agents. So it had been a long time since he had been deluded or cheated as his two racial peers often were. He rendered the other two as much courtesy as their blood heritage entitled them (which was damned little, really, for both young Pehtros and the older, corpulent and flatulent Kenos were, though much darker than most of the barbarians, clearly not kathahrohs or Ehleenee of pure lineage, as was Urbahnos), but that was all, for he felt that any man so stupid and stiff-neckedly arrogant as to not learn every facet of the trade or profession which earned him a livelihood was fully deserving of all misfortunes which chanced to befall him.
Puffing at his bejeweled pipe, Urbahnos snorted silent derision. For all that Kenos had been in Pahdookahport nearly twice as long as had he, the old fool still could not even tell the difference between a fisher fur and a mink. While just last year that young ass Pehtros had paid good, silver thrahkmehee for several bales of shaggy-bull hides (from which extra-heavy leather the best boots, bucklers and other war gear were fashioned) which, when opened for repacking prior to shipment, proved to be mostly poor-quality horsehides, interspersed with thin sheets of hardwood to give weight and solidity to the bales.
The full lips of the stocky Karaleenosian twisted Into a thin, crooked smile at the memory of how the effete, stripling-slender Pehtros had howled. Naturally, an assassin had been retained to put paid to the account of the larcenous agent who had arranged sale and purchase of the spurious bales, but while the barbarian’s well-earned death salved wounded pride and served clear notice to others, his corpse and hovel yielded up precious few of the Mahkedohnyan silver pieces.
Urbahnos snorted yet again. And the ninny would, had he not been there to advise, have sent his own well-known bodyguards to take revenge upon the unwashed flesh of the scoundrelly agent, which action would likely have brought down the wrath of the duke upon not just Pehtros but himself and Kenos, as well. Observing that the barge he had been eying was now securely moored and that slaves were manhandling into place a broad ramp from deck down to wharf, Urbahnos dismounted from his carriage, shifted his jewel-hilted slashing sword rearward to make for easier walking and, flanked and trailed by four of his scarred, well-armed bodyguards, set his booted feet to the slimy cobblestones of Dock Street As the usual dockside crowd of slave stevedores, boatmen, agents, pimps, thieves and idlers from the town, above, grew denser, the largest of Urbahnos’ bodyguards—and Nahseer was large by any standards, towering almost two full meters from pink-soled foot to shaven, dark-brown pate, with a big-boned frame which carried little fat but at least one hundred and thirty kilos of rolling muscle covered with a scarred and callused skin the shade of an old saddle—took the lead, his bulk clearing the way for his employer as the metal-shod prow of an ocean-going warship cleaves the tossing waves. In the lee of the docked barge, a few swings of Nahseer’s long, brawny arms cleared the foot of the boarding ramp and the party ascended to the deck, whereon the captain, himself, waited to greet the well-known and thoroughly respected Lord Urbahnos. In the small, cramped cabin, the Karaleenosian sipped once, for courtesy’s sake, at the contents of the copper cup served to him—that vile-flavored distillate of various grains known as “hwiskee” and as much savored by the barbarians as if it had been a decent, civilized vintage wine—then got down to business, speaking the barge captain’s drawling dialect of Mehrikan with the ease and fluency born of long practice.
“To judge by your deck cargo, Hynz, someone must be building a new wharf or refooting an old one. Is timber all you’re carrying, this trip?” The burly bargeman sighed gustily and shrugged. “Damn near. Lord Urbahnos, damn near. It’s the dang duke. He wants to build him a new pier and all up river, for to take some of the pressure off’n the ol’ port, here, and wouldn’t nothin’ do but bal’ cypruses clear from down to the drownded lands.” Urbahnos raised his carefully trimmed eyebrows. “You went that far south, friend Hynz?”
The captain rumbled a chuckle and shook his balding head. “Aw, hell no, Lord Urbahnos, only far as Tworivertown. Some of your kinfolk—Southern Ehleenee—they brung the logs up far as Mehmfisz, and Ol’ Djordj Gaibruhlz he brung ’em inta Tworivertown and then I laded ’em there. You knows how ’tis, Lord Urbahnos, them Southron Ehleenee, they sure lawd won’t come no futher north than they jest has to.”
The Karaleenosian did know how it was, although he really could not comprehend just why the so-called Ehleenee of the vast Southern Kingdom felt cause for being so standoffish, since there had been so shamefully much intermarriage and interbreeding with the indigenous barbarians in those lands south and west of Karaleenos that the folk of that kingdom were all but barbarians. Only in Karaleenos (and, to a lesser degree, in Kehnooryos Ehlas) were kathahrohs—Ehleenee of pure lineage—any more in numbers than a rapidly dwindling minority.
“Then this timber is your only cargo?”
The barge captain nodded. “Aye, Lord Urbahnos”, only save fer a dozen barr’ls of hooch, barley hwiskee it be.”
The Ehleen repressed a gag; corn hwiskee was bad enough, God knew, but the distillates of rye and barley were positively nauseous to a civilized man of refined tastes.
“But,” the big bargeman added, with a grin that showed brownish, rotting teeth, “I got me some news I bet will interest you a mite, Lord Urbahnos.” Then he leaned back and applied himself to his hwiskee, resuming his conversation only when his guest had stacked four broad, silver thrahkme-hee on the dirt-shiny table between them.
“Ol’ Shifty Stooahrt, the plains trader, he be laid up in Tworivertown, and he won’t be a-doin’ no more plains trading, neither, not never again. Seems as he and his train got them a chancet to catch them some Horseclans kids—a gal and two lil boys.”
Urbahnos leaned forward. “The boys—blonds? Redheads? How old?” Captain Hynz treated him to another rotten grin. “Now, I jest knowed thet would tickle your fancy, Lord Urbahnos. The gal, she’s the one what crippled pore Stooahrt—took his own dang boot knife and cut the tendon ahind his knee, she did, then jumped right off the cable barge ‘tween Traderstown and Tworiver, a-draggin’ the pore feller after her by his pore balls! Then when they both was in the river, she shoved him to where a oarblade crushed up his shoulder so bad the doc had to take the whole dang arm off him. “But the lil bitch got what was a-comin’ to her—leastways, mosta who-all was there thinks she drownded in the river, for all nobody ever foun’ her body. “But the train’s still got them two boys—one blond and one redheaded, one about twelve and the other about ten— and they only ‘bout two three days out from Pahdookahport, too, comin’ in by land, crost the Old High Road.” Calmly lifting his own cup of the abominable tipple, the Ehleen meshed his keen mind into high gear. Fair-skinned blond and red-haired slave boys brought high prices in all the Ehleen lands of the east, especially were the slaves prepubes-cent and high-spirited—and in that last regard, he need have no fear if the captives were truly of Horseclans stock. Of course, the men who now held the boys were well aware of these facts, too, and would consequently demand and likely receive a stiff price for their “merchandise,” especially if they went onto the quayside slave block for open bidding by Urbahnos and the other traders, factors and merchants.