Return to Kinthaldith

Return to Kinthaldith, Chapter 10

In mid-afternoon they arrived in the town. They left their horses at a stable and set off for the market on foot.

The market was full of vegetables, fruit, live chickens, string, rugs, pocket watches, dishes, live rabbits, saddles, hot soup, and just about anything that could be had on a young world like Kinthaldith.

"The market in Anbarran is bigger," said Lujen. "But we'd need a full day for the trip. Maybe next time. In Anbarran, they even have a theater. Do you enjoy plays?"

"Sometimes," said Jesh.

"It's the latest from Callantorry. That's where all the best plays come from here. We don't have our own acting troops."

Jesh nodded, remembering that Callantorry as a land famous for drama and music. Like gypsies, many of them they led a wandering lifestyle, going from land to land, singing as bards or doing plays.

The sun shone warmly and Jesh relaxed and let himself wander through the bazaar, looking at all the tables and watching the people dressed in their bright shawls and speaking Kinthaldan. It all brought back fond memories of his childhood; being home again felt very good.

Near the center of the square a crowd gathering around a table and a man who stood on a box, proclaiming the superiority of his wares--the latest pistols from Farhoven. Jesh glanced at the silver colored guns in passing, not all that interested. Kinthaldith had always had guns, though they were rudimentary, compared to Prenth guns.

"These guns will shoot farther, last longer and can fire six bullets without reloading. Never in twenty years have you seen so many advances as in this gun and at thirty gold pieces less than the old guns from Sannantrovvist. Well worth the price, I'm telling you."

Hearing the man's boast, Jesh turned and looked again at the guns. He'd never used a gun before but he knew something of manufacturing and science. Such a leap in technology piqued his curiosity, and filled him with a sudden suspicion, leading him to turn back for another look at the array of pistols.

Jesh reached out and picked up a gun, weighing it in his hand. The gun felt light, and the metal looked hard and flawless. Was Kinthaldith capable of making such guns or had they come from somewhere else--like Prent? But why would the Prent want to give guns to Kinthaldans? It would break every interstellar law, if they had.

Jesh looked around for Lujen but couldn't see him--he'd utterly track of him. He took a few steps away from the crowd, trying to get a better view of the square.

Suddenly a man grabbed him from behind. Jesh struggled to free himself--managing to break the man's hold but he quickly renewed it.

"Watch out--he has a gun!" cried someone.

Suddenly someone hit him in the face. The gun flew out of his hand and Jesh fell to the ground with the first man on top of him.

"Thrall," Jesh heard someone mutter.

"Get the captain," said someone else.

Jesh realized his mistake. He was still wearing the black robes that showed him as a criminal and he was walking the square alone--with no master--carrying a gun.

They pulled him to his feet. "Where were you going, thief?" asked a tall bearded man, the one who had first tackled him. "Stealing this, were you?" he asked, holding up the pistol.

"No," said Jesh. "I wasn't...I was merely--"

"What are you doing out here alone?"

"He's on the run," said a short, fat man from another stand--a butcher.