All goggled and pointed excitedly when they saw the gory head. It's true, then, a man said, that the demons got out!"
"Too bad for them they met our lads, eh? said another. This'll teach them to stay where they belong."
Coralean called a halt. He raised his hand for silence and the crowd hushed. He rose up in his stirrups so all could hear.
"Greetings, O gentle people of Kyrania, he said. I am Coralean of Caspan. We meet in circumstances filled with both joy and fear. He pointed at the head. There is the fear. But you will notice, no doubt, that this particular demon is taking a long rest on a stake made of good Kyranian wood. There were chortles in the crowd. This one and his companions, Coralean continued, defied the curse of the Forbidden Desert. Now they have their reward. To dance in the Hells for all eternity."
Laughter and nods followed that statement.
"And now I will speak of joy. And it is joy, not fear, that fills Coralean's heart. For more years than it is comfortable to consider Coralean has heard other caravan masters speak of the warmth and hospitality of the people of Kyrania. My brothers of the road are notorious liars, as I'm sure you all know. But the tales were so frequent and seemed so little exaggerated that Coralean came to believe they were true. So it was with much anticipation of meeting you all that I undertook this trading journey. The Coralean business has never taken him to this side of the Bride and her Maids before.
"During the long, hard months of travel Coralean thought of your peaceful valley many times. When we were thirsty, Coralean dreamed of the sweet waters of your lake. When we were hungry, Coralean took comfort in visions of your fat lamb kabobs and beds of barley spiced with oil from your olive trees and garlic from your gardens. When my men despaired, Coralean cheered them with tales of your charming village. All will be well, I told them, when we reach Kyrania. Yet how was Coralean to know that not only were the tales true, but Kyrania had more than mere hospitality to offer?"
He indicated Iraj and Safar. She also has brave young men of whom she can rightly boast. Young men whose like I've never had the thrill to see. And Coralean, you should know, has seen much in his long life. Others I've met are more full of bluster than true courage. Such men would most certainly have kept their silence and slipped away when they saw the demons creeping up on a party of strangers. And Coralean and his companions would have been doomed.
"But these two gave not a thought for their own safety. They risked their lives when they charged out to give warning. Then they turned to fight the demons as they rode down on us. Why, none of us would be alive today if they had not taken such a brave course.
"This one he pointed to Iraj"saved Coralean's life with an act of bravery and skill rarely witnessed. While this one he pointed to Safar"joined in the fray as if he were warrior born, instead of a gentle village lad. And then, wonder of all wonders, the gods of Kyrania personally intervened. They caused a great hill of snow and ice to fall on our attackers. Proving that these mountains and this valley are the most blessed in all the world. For it is here that the curse brought these demon interlopers down.
"After we have honored our dead, sending their souls back to the gods who made them, it is Coralean's fondest wish to reward these young men. And to reward Kyrania, as well. The gods willing, we will have a feast tomorrow night. A feast like no other Kyrania has ever seen. And all that is eaten and drunk shall be my gift to you. I, Coralean, do so swear!"
The crowd roared approval and crowded close to praise him and wish him well. In the confusion Safar slid off his horse and into his family's arms. His mother cried, patting him all over to make certain he was uninjured. His father clasped his shoulder in the strong grip men of Kyrania reserve for those they honor. His sisters wept and crowded around him.
Quetera slipped in to hug Safar when his mother stepped away. As he leaned over her child-swollen belly to kiss her she laughed at the awkward embrace.
"I'm so proud of you, Safar, she said.
Safar was surprised at her reaction. His dream had been so real he'd been braced for a scolding. Instead of thanking her, he blurted out that he was sorry.
"Why should be you be, Safar? she asked. Why should you be sorry for bringing such honor to our family?"
Iraj heard the exchange and pressed through to join them. He's just tired. He chuckled. Spearing demons is weary work."
Everyone laughed as if this were the greatest jest they'd ever heard. His words were passed along through the crowd of well-wishers and soon everyone was roaring.
That was another lesson Safar learned that day: that success could turn a man's every word into the purest gold. Which was something no wizard, living or dead, could accomplish.
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."