The Taleweaver

Braka, part seven

Harbend thanked the harbor master and mounted his horse. The trade had been good, and he didn't mind transporting wares from the port to the capital in exchange for a slightly better price for the goods he sold here. They even managed to buy a fair amount of livestock, and he was already longing for the change in diet. Nothing wrong with horseflesh and lizard, but a change, any change was more than welcome.

They snaked slowly through the landscape. The progress was fast enough for him though. Within an eightday they would reach Belgera, the capital of Braka, and there the real trading would take place. It would be the reward everyone in the caravan waited for.

Harbend smiled and hoped no one saw him. He probably looked as if he was growling. They were all happy now, looking forward to reaching their goal, but he knew there would be a return journey as well, and it was bound to be just as slow and time consuming as their way here.

Would there be protests, the same kind that had forced him to order the executions? No, probably not. They would be on their way home then. Harbend hoped he was right. Never again would he give the order to kill anyone just because they voiced a different opinion than his own, no matter how dangerous such opinions were. You didn't kill people for saying out loud what they were thinking. That wasn't right.

Harbend smiled again, a more honest smile this time. He must have spent too much time with Arthur. Soft Arthur from his soft world of strange powers. Then Harbend remembered the weapon Arthur had used in the mountain pass and later in the mad rush for freedom in Gaz. If such things were made for personal protection there was no end to what they could make for aggression. There was nothing soft behind curbing that kind of power.