Chapter 17

I wade through the marketplace crowd, looking for Yale's van and hoping he didn't already move on to another city. West Eden isn't as busy as last time - must be a slower part of the day - but it's still a pain to navigate. Jaw spends almost the entire trip growling and snapping at people who accidentally bump into him. They either jump away or snarl right back. I wrap the end of the leash around my hand to get a better grip, determined not to lose my dog in the throng. Several merchants try to catch my attention and get me to buy their wares: guns, scrap, food. But I have plenty of that now - enough for weeks. What I need is information, and that'll be easier to get that from someone I'm already on decent terms with.

I finally spot the unmodified van parked on the outskirts of the market. Nothing cooking this time. The bodyguard, Rhodes, occupies his time by throwing a rubber ball at the side of the van, catching it on the ricochet, and throwing it again. Either he's not a very good guard, or they've been here enough times to feel relatively safe in Eden's marketplace. Behind the table covered in items for trade, Yale leans back in his chair, drinking something hot from a mug. The merchant looks almost uncomfortably at ease compared to the crowded chaos of the market around him.

The scarred salesman notices me approaching and carefully sets his steaming mug down on the table. Rhodes briefly glances over his shoulder before going back to his game. Guess he doesn't see me as much of a threat. Yale slowly gets to his feet, gripping the billiard ball set into the top of his cane. The scars that pull up his lip make his attempt at a warm smile looks slightly unnerving from, but he seems sincere enough.

"Ah, if it isn't the Aesircide! My good friend and apparently loyal customer!" Yale proclaims, savoring every word. He seems delighted to see me, while Rhodes looks unimpressed. "Don't mind my companion; he is just envious of your latest and soon-to-be-famous kill! Come, come! Have a seat! I wish to talk to you and do some business."

"Uh… Sure," I say, surprised to be greeted with so much enthusiasm. Much like the Blackthumbs already knew Khopesh's new title, Yale is well aware of mine. Seems word travels fast in the crowded city. "But I don't have much time to chat."

Yale gestures to a worn, plastic chair placed at the end of the table. I take a seat as Jaw curls up under the table, glad to be out of the crowd.

"What do you need?" I ask.

Yale adjusts his brightly colored jacket and sits down again. He picks up his mug and takes a small sip before speaking.

"Well, traveler, I am not just a merchant of goods, but a merchant of information. I travel the Wastes, selling weapons, food, equipment, and information in exchange for just the same." He pauses to drink some more, looking pleased with the taste. "And I would love to hear the story of an unknown outsider killing an Asgardian straight from the horse's mouth - before it gets corrupted by rumors and legends. So, if you are interested in any of my wares, I will happily exchange them for your story."

I hesitate, weighing his offer in my mind. Don't really like telling people about myself. Last time I did that, the person ended up disappearing, and now I'm trying to track her down. But if I can trade the story for something the information I need and save the spice, maybe it's worth it.

"Fine."

The merchant grins, revealing yellowed teeth further stained by whatever he's drinking. He settles back into his seat, awaiting the tale with visible anticipation. I kept the story short when Anuket asked what happened, but here I'll add a little more detail. The more Yale likes the story, the more likely he'll be to trade something valuable - or at least I hope so. I take a deep breath before beginning.

"When we finally tracked him down, the Asgardian, he'd killed all of Anuket's people. Some nailed up, others thrown in pits. All burning. Black birds and smoke everywhere. He was standing on top of the biggest Rig I've ever seen, shouting at us about a great War and these crazy visions. His men started playing music - drumming so loud I could barely hear my engine. We got split up, me and my teammates. I got around just in time to see the Asgardian rip the arm off one of them with a pickaxe. Then he came at me. Got onto my car and smashed his way inside. But Jaw, here…" I indicate the dog under the table. "Jaw just about ripped his throat out. We fell out of the car. Wrestled in the sand. I pinned him down as he was bleeding out. He said his visions were right. Total madman if you ask me. Then I slit his throat and, uh, that was the end of it."

Yale's deformed smile widens further as the story concludes. I lean forward in the chair and loosen my scarf a little, feeling uncomfortable. Still not used to talking this much.

"What an exquisite tale, Roman," the merchant commends. "I'm still quite impressed that you managed to kill an Asgardian. Do you know who he is working for?"

"He was trained by someone called Bishop at some point," I reply quickly, anxious to get to my side of the deal. "Other than that, I don't know."

"Do you know why he was outside Anuket's borders? Or anything else?" Yale pauses and looks closely at me, seeming to sense my impatience. "I am getting ahead of myself. What would you like in exchange for this information, friend?"

"I'm hoping you can give me some information," I reply, struggling to sound casual. If the merchant knows how important this is, he might be less willing to part with the knowledge for the low price of a War story. Salesmen are always looking to make a profit, no matter how friendly they might seem. "I need to see the Historymen. Looking for someone who might have gone to see them."

"Historymen?" Yale raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Well, if you want to find a Historyman, that's easy. Just go to any major city except… Except this one. Most Gods use Historymen as advisors, accountants, or assistants. Anuket uses trained Handmaidens instead. I don't know why. But five Handmaidens seem to do the job of one Historyman quite nicely."

The merchant pauses, listening to the rhythmic banging of Rhodes's ball on the side of his van as he thinks. I watch him intently, hanging on every word.

"Or you may find one alone in the Wastes as an ascetic," Yale continues. "But the Historymen - no one really knows anything about them or where they come from. Some say they come from schools made specifically to train Historymen, but no such school has been found. Others, myself included, think they just learn their own way from old books and abandoned libraries of days past. No two Historymen are created the same way or in the same place…" He trails off for a moment, lost in thought. Then he shakes his head. "I'm sorry I can't help you out more. Historymen are one of the unquestioned mysteries out here."

I rub my stubbled chin with one hand, trying to think through the noise of the market. The Crocodile who delivered the Handmaidens' message said Trace likes books. But that doesn't seem like a very good reason to leave. Would she really risk her life to read some dusty, old pages? That's probably the stupidest thing anyone could do. Besides, she already had books in Anuket's palace; I saw them myself. But if the Handmaidens who knew her best think she's after knowledge, then I guess books are my best bet.

"Is there a library in any nearby cities?" I ask after a moment.

"There is, but I am not talking about just any library with the Historymen. I am talking about an expansive, pre-Fall library full of knowledge of the civilizations that came before us. Not endless bureaucratic bookkeeping."

Yale takes a long sip of his beverage, humming with satisfaction. Then he sets the empty mug on the table and leans back.

"But a nearby city is as good a place to start as any," the merchant continues. "The two closest are Midgard and Ares. They are about the same distance from here. I am not sure exactly which is closer, but it is so slight it doesn't make a difference."

"Right," I mutter, more to myself than to the salesman. "Guess I'll try one of those."

I don't really want to go to Midgard. Three said something about a feast and no one minding that I killed an Asgardian, but I also don't want to get pulled into any dispute between Thor and Anuket. I have other things to deal with right now. I know nothing about Ares other than it's where Khopesh went to get a new arm. Not much to go on. I wish I could just follow some tracks in the sand or some smoke in the sky. That would make things a lot simpler.

"Unless you know where I can find one of those pre-Fall libraries," I add, looking at Yale hopefully.

"No, not exactly. Most recorded ones have been destroyed or looted into uselessness." Yale twists his face in thought, making it appear even more disfigured. "However, there are some legends of one in the Silt Sea, far, far north of here. Past even Ashtown and the seat of the Caesar himself."

"Don't waste your time," Rhodes pipes up, not bothering to stop his game or look at us while speaking. "Nobody who goes there comes back. It's suicide. Whoever you are looking for is either not there or dead."

"I'll keep that in mind," I mumble disappointedly.

I stand up, eager to be on my way. Jaw jumps out from the under the table, excited to go somewhere else.

"Thanks for your help, Yale," I say, nodding.

"Always my pleasure, Roman," the merchant replies warmly. "I wish you luck, I really do. Just don't let Rhodes get to you." He picks up his mug as I leave, turning to his companion. "Rhodes, could you please make me some more coffee?"

Rhodes grumbles under his breath and climbs into the van. I leave the two of them behind, disappearing into the crowd with Jaw by my side. We weave through the throng of people and make our way back to the cages. Jaw seems content to follow without me having to tug on the leash, but I keep an eye on him anyway. Now that Three and Khopesh are gone, it's just the two of us, and I'm suddenly paranoid that he'll leave, too. No point in denying it - I'm already too attached to this damn dog. I'm sure it'll come back to bite me sooner or later.

Now I have a decision to make. My gut tells me Trace wouldn't go to Midgard. From what I've heard, they respect strength and glory there more than anything else, so I don't think it's the first place Trace would want to go for knowledge. Then again, I might just be thinking that because I also don't want to go there right now. As for the library in the Silt Sea, that's not an option at this point. It's too far away and too dangerous. Can't risk wasting time out there. If I can't pick up her trail in one of the cities, I'll go north as a last resort. Or maybe I'll just give up the whole thing at that point. I'll make that decision if the time comes.

Sounds like Ares is my best bet. If I'd known sooner, I might have asked Khopesh if I could tag along with him. Then again, I don't think I want the Tribune to know about my lead on Trace, small as it may be. I respect him more as a fighter now, sure, but that doesn't mean I trust him. Despite his claimed disinterest in tracking down the Handmaiden, he might change his mind if he sees a good opportunity. His lifelong loyalty to Anuket will be a tough thing for him to shake. Who knows if he'll ever truly be out from under her thumb?

Back at the cages, the Blackthumbs have finished clearing most of the scrap and debris. The Rig is mostly dismantled already, leaving just the frame and miscellaneous bits of salvage lying around. The Blackthumbs sit in assembled rigging and continue to work away at the modified train. Soon there will be nothing left of Vates's terrifying machine. Good riddance.

My car remains untouched, of course. The Blackthumbs have seen what I'll do to anyone who tries to mess with my ride. I can only hope that the people of Ares show the same level of respect. As I approach my freshly repaired vehicle, one of the Blackthumbs climbs down from the Rig. He is even younger than Khopesh. Beneath his face paint is a childish face and an eager expression.

"Roman, sir!" the boy says breathily. "Is there anything you require of me before your departure?"

"Which way to Ares? And how far?"

"West, Aesircide. About a two day's drive." The Blackthumb points toward the horizon, squinting in the sun that's now risen high overhead. "Be careful, though. Along the path is the Graveyard of Giants. Very dangerous, full of tribal barbarians. You could go around, but it would add about a day and a half to your journey."

"Great," I reply, sounding nearly as grumpy as Three. "Thanks."

"We will take the corpse off your hands," the boy continues, glancing excitedly at the body of Vates chained to the back of my vehicle. "Great Lady Anuket would like it! We were simply waiting for you to return from the market before touching your property. May we recover the body now, sir? Or would you prefer to remove it yourself?"

"I'll do it."

I remove the chains and throw them into the back of the car. Then I pull the corpse off my vehicle, leaving a large, dried bloodstain behind. I drag Vates's body over to the Blackthumb and drop it roughly into the dirt. A once mighty Asgardian, now wasting away in the sun. No black birds to pick apart his corpse here.

"All yours."

The young mechanic enthusiastically tries to lift the corpse, but it's too heavy for him. A slightly older Blackthumb jogs over to help, and together they take Vates away, heading for the stairs to East Eden. As they disappear from sight, I breathe a small sigh of relief. The blue-eyed madman is finally gone for good. Time to move on.

"You ready?" I ask Jaw, opening up the passenger door so he can climb in. He barks, which I take as a confirmation.

We climb into the car, and I start the engine, feeling good about the repairs. With any luck, my ride will hold up better in the next fight, which might be soon if this Graveyard of Giants is as dangerous as the boy said. No way I'm wasting a day and a half going around. Maybe our victory against Vates and his acolytes is making me over-confident, but it doesn't matter; I can't afford to spend time avoiding danger. Wonder if Khopesh decided to take the long way around. Probably. He's not in any condition to fight, and I think he knows it. If things go well, I have a good shot at making it to Ares before the Tribune. If I can pick up Trace's trail fast enough, he might never even know I was there. That's probably for the best.

I squint through the new windshield, taking one last look up at the waterfall and greenery up East Eden high above me. Not sure if I'll be back anytime soon. Or ever. Have to wait and see, I guess. I know I'm avoiding making a final decision about Trace, but what's the point in stressing about it when odds are I won't even find her? Three said not to worry about deciding my stance on something that might not even happen. He's not exactly the best role model when it comes to decision-making, but I think I'll take his advice this time. He couldn't have survived to be that old without learning a few lessons, yeah?

We leave the cages, the Blackthumbs, and the remains of the War Rig behind. Jaw wags his tail and looks out the window, ears perked up excitedly. I take the path around the marketplace, avoiding the crowd and picking up speed. At the outskirts of the lower city, I turn the wheel West. Anuket's city falls far behind as I race toward the horizon. Never much liked cities, anyway. The Road is where I belong. I press the pedal to the floor, smiling a little as the engine roars across the Wasteland.

- END OF BOOK ONE -

Author's Note: A very special thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this story. It's been a blast sharing this with you all. There are some changes I plan to make with Book One: namely, the backstory chapter will be deleted, and some of the details from that will be added to other areas. This will require reuploading all the chapters, so if any of you followers don't want to receive notifications about that, I suggest you unfollow the story for now. If you want to join Roman as he continues his adventure, keep an eye on my profile or follow me. Book Two, Ares, will begin in two weeks. Stay tuned.