The Worlds of the Sheaf

Shonnla - Part 2

     Later that day, Thomas, Drenn and the soldiers were taken to a building near the centre of the city and shown to a connected series of rooms on the second floor, from where they had a good view out over the city. The mayor came with them as far as the entrance, where they were met by a welcoming delegation of two young men and two young women, all in their early twenties by the look of them. All tall and athletic looking. Fit and healthy.

     The mayor gave another short speech and shook their hands, a disturbingly false smile on his face below eyes that watched them carefully, endlessly measuring and calculating. Then he left, leaving them in the hands of the four manservants, or whatever they were. They led them inside and showed them to their rooms, where they found clean clothes and bowls of hot, soapy water waiting for them. Their hosts then bowed and left them to get cleaned up and presentable.

     "Well, this is more like it," said Jop Sonno as he stripped off his filthy clothes, flinging them to the ground with a grimace of disgust. He tested the warmth of the water with the tips of his fingers, then began scrubbing.

     "Don't get used to it," said Matthew, though. "You can bet our welcome'll dry up fast when they discover we're no threat to them."

     "So we won't let them find out," said the cavalryman. "We've just got to be careful what we say."

     "A man who lives his life on lies is walking a perilous path," warned Drenn as he also stripped off and washed himself down. "I am not at all happy with our situation here."

     "None of us are," agreed Thomas, "but what else are we to do? You saw how those soldiers treated us when they thought we were just outlaws. We've got just two choices. We can either be outlaws and fugitives, forever running from the law, or ambassadors of a powerful neighbouring country. If there's another option I've missed, please enlighten me."

     The priest could only glare at him, though, and said nothing.

     The clothes were a pile of jackets, trousers and shoes in all styles and sizes among which they sorted for items that fitted and which suited their tastes. They were just dressing themselves when there came a knock on the door. Matthew hastily buttoned his jacket over his glass ceramic armour, not wanting to give away that they possessed such powerful protection, then called for their visitor to come in.

     It was one of the young women who'd led them into the building, and she explained to them, by carefully pronounced words and hand gestures, that there was a meal waiting for them downstairs. The Tharians, all ravenously hungry after two days of living on nuts, berries and whatever small animals they could catch, followed eagerly.

     It was a feast fit for a king. The mayor was evidently pushing the boat out for them, wanting to give the Beltharan ambassadors a good impression to take home with them. The four servants waited on them and stared in confusion as Drenn said a brief prayer of gratitude to the Gods of Tharia, following it up with a few words of thankfulness to whatever Gods ruled this world, in case They were upset at being ignored. The Gods of Tharia were quite happy for Their followers to give lip service to other Gods, so long as they didn't forget who it was who granted them their powers, and Thomas, watching the priest pray, hoped that the Gods of this world shared this enlightened attitude. It occurred to him, though, that, so far, they'd seen no sign that these people worshipped anyone at all.

     After the meal they retired to another room, followed by their hosts, and collapsed into large, plump chairs while other servants cleared the table behind them. Their hosts then engaged them in conversation, beginning with pointing at and naming objects, the first step in learning each others' languages. The soldiers had little skill or enthusiasm for this, although they co-operated to the best of their abilities, but Drenn and Thomas, both highly intelligent and with excellent memories, made good progress, and by the end of the day they'd mastered over a hundred words of the city's language. Enough for the very most basic of conversations.