Piemur’s cautionary instinct had sharpened on the long and solitary eastward journey. And though he was eager to talk to someone besides himself, he was also strangely loath to initiate a meeting. Nevertheless he proceeded down the long strand to the river’s mouth, struggling up dunes and treading carefully through the salt grasses, prodding ahead of his feet with his snake-stick, Stupid a pace behind him, Farli swooping up and back, flitting away and returning.
There were people, she told him, but not the men. Not the other men.
It was almost time for the precipitous sunset of those parts when Piemur finally got close enough to see that some of the buildings were derelict, with plants growing out of the windows and through cracks in the roofs. Several were bigger than anything Toric had yet permitted to be built, and they tended to be more wide open to air and sun than anyone dared build in the north, though the facing material was beautifully fit stone. The roofs seemed to be sheer slabs, finger thick. He remembered the exceedingly durable mine props that Hamian had found solidly in place after who knew how many Turns.
And there were people. He dropped down on the sand, getting a mouthful, when he saw a man walking from what had to be a beasthold toward the steps of the wide verandah. Canines, large ones to judge by their deep voices, began to bark somewhere behind the house.
“Ara!” The man’s call brought a woman out of the house, followed by a toddling child. There was a touching moment of embrace, then the man scooped the child up and, with one arm around the woman, entered the house.
“A family, Stupid. There’s a family living here, with a big house, lots of rooms, more than three people need. Why’d they build it so big? Or are there others inside?”
Four fire-lizards, two gold, a bronze, and a brown, suddenly came out of nowhere and hovered on wing above him before disappearing. Although Farli was not alarmed, Piemur was.
“O-ho, we’ve been spotted. Well, fire-lizard friends can’t be all bad, can they, Stupid? Let’s go forth like brave men and get this over with.” He got to his feet and approached the building, shouting at the top of his well-trained lungs. “Hello the house! Let’s hope there’s enough dinner for four, huh, Stupid? Hello there!”
There was glad astonishment and a warm, if shy, welcome from the shipwrecked couple, as well as an immediate invitation to share their meal, which was cooking over a most fascinating stove. The man, Jayge, tanned and well-muscled, was several Turns older and taller by several handwidths than the harper. He had an open face, a nose slightly bent out of line from some brawl, light-colored eyes, and a steady gaze. He wore a sleeveless vest and short pants of roughly spun cotton, and around his lean hips was a fine leather belt from which hung a bone-handled knife. On his feet were rather ingenious sandals that protected toes and heels but were open across the foot. They looked much more comfortable and cooler than the heavy boots Piemur wore.
Ara was younger, with an appealing face that looked both innocent and yet was oddly mature; at times she looked sad. Her black hair was braided down her back, but curls escaped the plait to frame her face. She wore a loose, sleeveless cotton dress, dyed a deep red and embroidered on scoop neck and hem, a narrow leather belt dyed a red to match her dress, and red leather sandals. She was utterly charming, and Piemur did not miss Jayge’s proud and proprietary gaze.
While Piemur ate his way through the best meal he had eaten since he had left Southern, he listened to Jayge and Ara tell of their adventures, occasionally throwing in a question or a comment to encourage them to add details.
“We were hired at Keroon Beastmasterhold,” Jayge told him, “about thirty months ago—we lost an accurate track of time in the storm and during our first days here. We were transporting some expensive breeding stock for Master Rampesi, to be delivered to Holder Toric at the Southern Hold. Would you know him?”
“I do. I remember how mad Rampesi was when he had to admit your ship must have gone down. You were lucky to survive.”
“We very nearly didn’t,” Jayge said, giving Ara a sideways glance and laying his arm across her shoulders, his expression tenderly amused. “Ara here insists that we were dragged to shore by shipfish.”
“Quite likely,” Piemur assured him, grinning at Jayge’s surprise and Ara’s triumphant cry. “Every Masterfisherman worth his knots will agree: Master Rampesi has told me of men falling overboard and being lifted up by shipfish. He’s seen the phenomenon himself, and he’s not given to harper tales. That’s why Fishcrafthallers are so glad to see them escorting a ship out to sea. Means good luck.”
“But the storm was incredibly powerful,” Jayge objected.
“So are they—and quite at home in stormy seas. You’re the only survivors?”
When Ara looked stricken, Jayge answered quickly. “No, but one man was so badly hurt, we never even learned his name. Festa and Scallak had broken leg and arm bones; I’d snapped my wrist and a few ribs; but Ara set us all and healed us straight.” He twisted his left hand to prove the mend, smiling at Ara. “We were quite a sight then, only three good arms and four legs among us, except for Ara, who nursed and fed us all.” He shot his young wife a look of such tender pride that Piemur almost blushed. “We were getting along fine here, even tamed some wild beasts—Ara’s got a gift with animals—when first Festa and then Scallak caught some kind of a fever, terrible headaches…they went blind.” He broke off, frowning at the memory.
“Fire-head, probably,” Piemur said, breaking the silence to relieve Ara’s obvious distress at the memory. “It has a high mortality rate if you don’t know the cure.”
“There is one?” Ara’s eyes widened. “I tried everything I knew. I felt so helpless, and ever since I’ve been afraid…”
“Don’t fret yourself, Look—” Piemur hauled his pack over and pulled out a small vial, which he handed to her. “I’ve medicine here. Instructions on it, as you see. Just don’t go near beaches stained yellow. It’s at its worst in mid– or late spring. And now that we know where you are, I’ll see that Sharra—she’s had Healer Hall training—sends you a record of symptoms and treatment for some of the southern nasties.”
“I hope we’ve found most of them,” Jayge said with a rueful grin, rubbing the scar on his forearm. Piemur recognized the blemish as an old needlethorn infection.
“That’s the hard way to learn what to avoid. I’d say you’d done pretty well here.” Piemur was fascinated with the material of the house.
“We found all this,” Jayge said, his gesture including the house and the buildings beyond.
“Found it?”
Jayge grinned, his teeth very white in his tanned face. He had curious yellow-green eyes, with flecks of dark in them, and a one-sided smile that Piemur liked. “Found the whole settlement. Mind you, it saved our lives. There were appalling storms for weeks after we were swept in here.” He paused, hesitant. “I didn’t think anyone had been allowed to settle in the south, except at Southern Hold. This isn’t part of Southern, is it, and we just didn’t search far enough west?”
“Ah, to be honest with you…” Piemur hesitated only a moment, for Toric could not possibly expect to claim the entire south. “No, this isn’t Southern Hold!” Seeing that his vehemence had surprised both Jayge and Ara, he smiled to reassure them. “You’re a long way from where you were supposed to land those beasts. A long way.” Piemur decided it would also be a very long time before Toric discovered their existence. “Hold hard to what you’ve got here,” he added blithely, and looked admiringly around at the gracious proportions of the room in which they ate. With its wide windows, louvered on the inside, it was unlike even freestanding hold rooms. The inside walls were not of the same stone as the outside and were colored very cool green blue. Jayge had fashioned sconces for candles Ara had made from berry wax, so the room was pleasantly lit. “How big is this house you found?”