Three days earlier
The rains hadn't stopped for days, and everything - everything - was dripping wet: Zana's robe, and her fur underneath; the wood of the bench she was sitting on; the horses; even the canopy of the wagon was beginning to sag, big puddles of water collecting on the waxed cotton and soaking through every spot where the workers hadn't applied enough wax to the fabric.
And what didn't get drenched by the rain was slowly moistening in the fog that never lifted. Just this morning, Alan had thrown away a whole box of oats for the horses because it had developed mold. Zana had never heard him curse before; but Alan was worried that he had fed the horses bad oats for the last few days, before the mold had become visible.
It was as if they were traveling through a cloud, Zana thought. A big, gray, endless cloud that swallowed the sun and threw them into an eternal twilight... like the silent roads of the dead, forever winding through the First Forest.
Although she didn't think that the dead had to shake the rain out of their fur all the time. She was tempted to crawl back under her covers, instead of keeping Galen company; but for one thing, it didn't seem right to leave him alone, cowering on the driver's seat, dripping and miserable, and for the other, her blankets would be damp and cold and altogether nasty to lie in.
She threw a quick glance into the back, where Peet was huddled against the side of the wagon, damp blankets slung over his shoulders. He looked as cold and miserable as she was, and Zana felt a pang of sympathy for the humans - without fur, the weather had to be even harder on them than it was on her and Galen.
Peet had slowly gone back to normal... what counted as normal for him since Urko... after she had apologized for her compulsive grooming, and had promised to stop with the habit. For a while, this had led to a different kind of awkwardness between them, with her apologizing for every accidental touch; but Zana thought that they had found a middle ground by now that almost felt like their old camaraderie.
Alan wasn't working on his leather belts today; he'd said that the damp cold made his fingers numb. Instead, he was trying to light a fire in one of her cooking pots, hopefully for making tea. If he managed to pull off this trick, she'd have to find something to reward him with. Which would prove difficult, because Alan seemed to be always busy with work, and she had no idea what he'd regard as recreation...
"I'm afraid it'll be like this for a long time," Galen murmured, as if he'd read her thoughts. He had hunched his shoulders, and drawn the hood of his travel robe over his head - the sturdy, waxed robes were the only souvenirs from Sapan that Zana had come to be grateful for - so that it completely obscured his face. Talking to him was like talking to a turtle. A snuffy turtle.
"I can't remember that the winters in the City were that bad." Zana retracted her hands into the sleeves of her robe and wished for Alan to be finally successful with his firepot experiment.
"That's because you had a house to live in, with a functioning heating to keep it dry," Galen's nasal voice sounded from the depth of his hood. "And if the rains got too bad, you just stayed inside for days..." He sneezed.
"Can't we stop for a moment to make some tea?" Zana asked. "I'm sure something hot would do us all some good..."
"I'd love a mug of hot tea," Galen wheezed, "but I'd love to reach the next town before nightfall even more. Hot tea, a hot oven, Zana, we can dry our clothes, and sleep in dry, warm beds..."
"That sounds lovely," Zana murmured, shivering. Normally, the temperature wouldn't bother her, but since she had refused to wear the waxed robe at first, her fur was soaked with rain and fog. It had been stupid, but for a while, she hadn't wanted to be reminded of Sapan. Considering that Galen was wearing that robe under her very nose, her strategy had been pointless, and she had relented in the end. But it would take some time before her fur would dry out underneath the travel robe, and provide protection against the elements again.
For a while, Galen didn't say anything; Zana only heard him sniffle from time to time.
"Maybe they'll also have a nice... tavern there," he finally said, and Zana wondered about his hesitant tone. Was he still thinking of Rogan and his insistence to meet her in his favorite tavern to fill her in on the latest developments of their murder case?
"Yes, maybe," she said noncommittally.
"The last weeks have been... difficult," Galen ventured, "and I, I know I haven't been the help you'd have needed... and, and deserved."
Zana waited, unsure where this was going.
"And I... well." Galen sniffed again, and Zana fought the urge to crawl back into the wagon and find something to offer him as a handkerchief.
"I thought maybe we could have... dinner... together... in that tavern. If they have one," Galen said awkwardly.
"That... would be nice... I guess," Zana said. Where had he gotten the idea to take her out on a date? She hadn't talked of her doubts about her relationship with anyone save Alan, and she was absolutely sure that Alan hadn't told Galen anything. Alan didn't betray confidences, and besides, he and Galen were still not on speaking terms.
"Well, only if you want to," Galen said dejectedly.
Did she want to? Zana wasn't sure. Right now, the thought of a hot tea and a dry bed was far more attractive than the thought of sipping wine in a tavern and trying to make conversation with Galen, especially since the conversation would probably be as awkward as the one they were having right now.
But he was making an effort. He was reaching out to her, and she couldn't just ignore that. It struck her as petty, and that was a trait she loathed in others, so she wouldn't indulge in it herself now.
Feeling very virtuous, Zana sighed and flicked water from her sleeve. "It sounds like a lovely idea, Galen, but I think I'll only be able to fully appreciate it once I've dried out and warmed up."
"Oh, oh yes, absolutely," Galen said, audibly relieved. "If we don't stop at noon, we should reach the next town in about four atseht, according to my map..."
Tala jerked her head back all of a sudden, and Ahpahchee reared in his harness. Galen pulled at the reins, too surprised to utter a word. Zana grabbed the handrest of her seat, her heart thudding against her breastbone. What had happened? Why were the horses-
"Hands up! Hands up!"
The voice was male, hoarse... young. But its owner was a gray shadow in the fog that was wafting over the muddy road. Zana turned her head to stare at Galen, dizzy with the sudden surge of alarm that made the blood throb in her temples.
Galen sat frozen for a moment; then he slowly, deliberately bent forward to wrap the lines around the rein hitch, and equally slowly raised his hands over his head.
"You, too," the rough voice said, and Zana flinched and obeyed.
The shadow moved closer, followed by other shadows that were now coalescing from the fog, and Zana saw that they were humans; hollow-eyed, shaggy-haired, barefoot even in this weather, and with an aura of hunger and despair that reminded her of a starving bushcat.
Only bushcats didn't come in packs.
"Sorry to interrupt your cruise, master," the leader said, but it didn't sound half as sarcastic as he had probably intended - his teeth were clattering, and his whole, emaciated body was shaking like a leaf in a strong storm. Zana couldn't say if he was terrified, tense with excitement, or shaking from the cold, but his companions were armed with bows, and the tips of their arrows didn't shake.
They were pointing right between her eyes.
Zana was so hypnotized by that tiny, slate-colored point aimed at her that she couldn't even move a muscle when something rustled in the wagon behind her. Then she heard a quiet murmur. "Come in, pal. Slowly."
Peet's voice.
Maybe it was good that she couldn't move. The humans' leader didn't seem to have noticed anything; he was sauntering towards them, one hand gliding along Tala's back as if he was already cutting her up in his mind. Zana felt tears of rage and horror prick her eyes. He can't have Tala! Or Ahpahchee!
"We'll let you go on your merry way in a moment, master," the human said. "But we're hungry and cold, and the weather's just awful this time o'year. So we'd be grateful for a small donation." He stopped at Tala's tail and grabbed the dashboard with one hand. "We even offer a service for your troubles. Safe passage until Etissa."
His smile was predatory. "Roads are so unsafe around these parts."
Zana tried to swallow, but her throat was dry.
Something moved behind her, and suddenly, a sharp smell of musk and oil assaulted Zana's nose. A human pushed between her and Galen-
No, he was pushed. By Peet. And Peet had his knife at the human's throat.
"Yeah, I can see that the roads are shitty around here," Peet drawled. "Must be the shit that's rotting in the underbrush. Your buddy here could use a bath, but maybe I'm being unfair an' he shat his pants just now. An' he's got reason to."
Zana could hear the human breathing rapidly through his nose, moving snot up and down with each breath, but she didn't dare to turn her head to look at him. She didn't dare to move at all.
The leader narrowed his eyes. He was younger than Zana had thought at first. "If you draw just a single drop from him, I'll have my people shoot your masters," he said.
"If any of your ragdolls loses an arrow, I'll cut your darling's throat," Peet said friendly. "An' my friend has a gun pointed at your head."
Zana heard the now familiar ratcheting sound as Alan worked Betsy's lever.
"See?" Peet said, still deceptively friendly. "This is a damn interesting situation. We might lose our apes, but you will lose your lives. All of you. And hey, then me an' my friend will own this wagon and its contents. Seems like a lose-lose situation for you."
Peet was just bluffing, Zana reminded herself.
"And a lose-lose situation for your masters." The leader didn't move; neither did his minions. The arrows were still pointing at her and Galen, and Zana began to wonder how long the archers would be able to keep the bowstrings drawn - if they all were as starved as this young human, they might not be able to endure that strain for much longer.
They were starving; none of them looked as if they would survive the winter.
"What are you doing out here?" she heard herself ask. "Why don't you live with your masters? You'd have everything you need, food, clothes, shelter..."
"... a whip or a crop every day, and a branding iron on high days," someone from among the archers scoffed. "Yeah, we'd be catered to in every way." He let his bow sink and stepped forward - an older man with a grizzled face and white hair. "They sold away my children, one by one, lady! One by one, and my woman died from a broken heart! I'm not going back there!"
Zana saw tears glint in the human's eyes, and felt her own eyes fill in response. "Oh, that... I'm so sorry about that..." To lose one's children like that, not just one, but all of them...
"We've all enjoyed the care of the apes," the leader growled, "and we all prefer the hunger and the cold to it. At least out here we're free."
"You ain't shit out here," Peet said flatly. "You're dogs eating garbage and snapping at your masters' heels. You're pathetic."
"Better a street dog than a lap dog," the reader scoffed, and Zana fleetingly wondered what animal these two were comparing each other to. They certainly were staring each other down like two angry bushcats, and it was only a matter of time until someone would lose their nerve, and this would end in bloodshed...
"Galen, dear," she said. "Give these people our food. All of it."
She saw Galen pull his hood back, to better gape at her. To her left, Peet growled "Bad move!" under his breath.
She paid him no heed. "These people are starving. I can understand that desperation can lead to... unwise choices. And we can stock up on food again once we reach the next town. But surely you know," she turned to the scraggy youth at Tala's flank, "that this can't be a permanent solution for you and your people? You either rob only a few travelers, which won't suffice to feed you, or you rob a lot of travelers, which will just bring the mountain guard down on your necks."
"How we deal is none of your business," the youth snapped, but he waved for his people to lower their weapons. Zana drew a cautious breath of relief.
"Now give us the food," the leader demanded, and Zana finally dared to turn her head and nod at Galen, who was visibly unhappy with her solution. Still, he wisely kept his mouth shut as he turned away and awkwardly climbed down from the wagon, hampered by his heavy travel robe.
"Come back here, Galen," Peet snapped, and added "you idiot" under his breath. "Climb through the back, not-"
It was because Galen was still shocked from the ambush, Zana mused later. That's why he jumped off the wagon to walk along its side to the back automatically, the way he'd been doing every day for months, instead of crawling from the driver's seat into the back.
And that's how he found himself in the sudden embrace of the leader of the robbers, a knife pressed to his throat. "Y'know, I changed my mind," the human said with a grin. "I think we'll take the money, too. And the horses. And your wagon. And your gun. And I always wanted a rainproof robe."
The human beside her whimpered suddenly, and Zana spun around, alarmed, and put a hand on Peet's wrist. A thin red line was trickling over the blade of his knife and into the collar of the man's dirty shirt. "Peet, don't," she whispered urgently.
He ignored her. "My friend's gun is still pointed at your head, bud. Think you're faster than a bullet?"
The human laughed, a wild, slightly hysterical sound. "Wanna risk your master's neck? Try me!"
"A bullet travels at roughly a thousand feet per second," Alan's deep, calm voice sounded from the back. "A second is a blink of an eye. I really doubt that you'd be able to slit your hostage's throat before my bullet whips through your skull. Especially since you don't know when I'll fire. I could pull the trigger mid-sentence, and you'd never even hear the crack."
There was a pause, as everyone considered Alan's words.
"You're still alive because I don't want to kill any of you, if I can avoid it," Alan spoke up again. "But we're at an impasse again, and I won't let you abuse the generosity of the lady on the passenger seat a second time. I'm going to offer you a deal, and you will accept it. Is that understood?"
The leader shifted on his feet, his fingers flexing over the hilt of his knife, and all Zana could think of as she held Galen's panicked stare was I should've reacted better to his dinner invitation. More enthusiastic.
This couldn't have been their last conversation. It just... couldn't. Because there was so much they had still to discuss, and, and-
The older man - the one whose children had been sold off to other masters - walked up to the youth and murmured something in his ear. The human didn't react, and the older man began again, his tone more urgent this time.
"State your deal," the human finally said.
"No," Alan said firmly. "Swear that you'll accept the deal, then I'll state my conditions. I assure you that you won't come out badly."
"As if the word of that trash is worth anything," Peet muttered.
"Alright, you have my word," the youth was saying, but a slight smile was still on his lips that made Zana agree with Peet's assessment.
"You'll get our money, and your man back," Alan said. "We get our man back, and keep everything else. You can buy anything you need with that money, which will be a lot more than what you could take from us now, nobody gets killed, and we go our separate ways."
There was a long, long silence, only deepened by the soft swishing sound of rain. "Galen, or the money," Peet muttered, so softly that Zana almost didn't catch it. "Decisions, decisions... got a coin to flip, Al?"
She resolved to scold him later for that.
"How much money?" the human finally asked.
"More than enough," Alan said, and there was a finality in his voice that made Zana's fur bristle.
The human seemed to have caught it, too. "Sounds fine to me," he said. "Bring it out."
"Tell your man to step back," Alan ordered, and the older man hastily retreated to where the rest of the archers were waiting.
"Zana," Alan said quietly, "come back here and get the money, and throw it from the wagon, on the passenger side. Don't climb down yourself."
She obeyed, too tense to bicker with Alan about the foolishness of men and the prudence of women, and retreated back under the tarp immediately after she had dropped the heavy leather pouch. She tried not to feel too devastated about the loss - yes, it had been all of their money, their funds for building a new existence north of these mountains… except for the few sembles each of them had sewn into their robes. But surely, Galen's life was more important.
She couldn't see what was happening outside anymore - the narrow gap between the panels of tarpaulin that Alan had turned into some sort of loophole for his gun was too narrow to allow her to sneak a peek - but she could see Peet and his human very slowly climb down on the passenger side of the wagon, on the far side to where Galen and the robbers' leader were waiting. "Better don't stumble on the way down, buddy," Peet said cheerfully to the other man; he had grabbed his hair with one hand and was still somehow keeping the knife at his throat with the other.
There was some shuffling and murmurs outside, and then Galen climbed back onto the bench, followed by Peet, who swiftly unwrapped the lines and loosened the brakes. He smacked the lines onto the horses' backs and shouted, "Go, go!" - Peet wasn't the most refined coach driver - and Zana steadied herself against the side boards as the horses fell into a hasty trot.
When she finally dared to crawl to the tail board, and peered outside, the humans were gone; melted back into the fog and rain.
Just like the money.
For a while, nobody said anything. Alan had taken up position at the tail end of the wagon, guarding their rear with his gun. Peet had surrendered the reins to Galen a while ago, and was now fidgeting on the passenger's seat.
"Wish I had a gun, too, to guard the sides of the road," he muttered, "Galen, we need a second gun. Or maybe even three more guns... one for each of us. I bet that wasn't the last time we'll meet this kind of scum."
"Of course I'll buy you a gun," Galen said bitterly, "and a typewriter for Zana, and an auriscope for myself... anyone else have a wish that I'll fulfil with our imaginary money?"
"You should've given me that coin to flip, Al," Peet snarled. "In case you've forgotten, master, that was my money, which just saved your neck!"
"And I'm grateful!" Galen snapped back. "I'm grateful! But now we're as poor as street cats again, which means I can't buy you that gun, as much as I'd like to! And it also means that we'll have to accept the cheapest inn in town, and, and..." He fell silent for a moment.
... and now you can't ask me out for a date, Zana silently completed the sentence for him, and felt her annoyance melt a tiny bit.
"... and I'll have to hire you out again," Galen finally continued. "I had thought it wouldn't be necessary anymore. That we could cross the passes before the winter rains make that impossible..."
"No point crying over spilled milk," Peet said curtly. "We just gotta make sure it won't happen again. Which means that the first thing we buy from the new money is guns and ammo."
Galen said nothing to that, just pulled the hood of his robe over his head again.
Zana stared into the rapidly darkening fog and fervently wished for a hot tea in a warm, dry inn.
When they finally rolled into town, the apes had already lit the lanterns in their doorways. It was after noon, but whether it was early or late afternoon, Virdon couldn't say - the fog was even thicker here in the valley, making it impossible to estimate the time.
Etissa sported a wooden stockade - something Virdon hadn't seen since Pendan. Back then, he had been too distracted by the pain in his leg to wonder about the necessity of fortification for that town, but after their encounter with the bandits, it was clear why the townspeople here were guarding their gates. He had stowed away Betsy as soon as Galen had slowed the wagon, not sure how the guard would react to an armed human, and was now crouching behind the driver's bench to listen in to the conversation.
"We were held up on the road," Galen was saying. "In broad daylight! Don't you have a mountain guard?"
"The mountains aren't an easy area to control," the guard said evenly. "Lots of small valleys for them buggers to retreat into. We can't hold every traveler's hand - out here, you're expected to take care of yourself. They let you off easy," he added, nodding meaningfully at the wagon.
"They took all our money," Galen snapped. "I wouldn't call that 'easy'! And I want that money back! Where's your watch house? I want to press charges!"
The guard opened his mouth, then hesitated, apparently thinking better of what he had actually been going to say, and just gave him directions. "Enjoy your stay," he added, a bit sardonically, as Galen flicked the lines.
"Face it, Galen," Burke said as they were slowly rolling through the gate, "we won't see my money again. I ripped my heart out for nothing." He didn't sound very concerned.
"I'm sorry," Virdon said, feeling guilty all the same. "But I had to offer the man something so he could keep face. And I thought that the wagon and the horses, and all our possessions, would be more difficult to replace than money..."
"Nah, it's alright," Burke said. He had slung his blanket over his shoulders like a poncho again, and was nibbling at some dried fruit. "It hurts him more than me." He nodded at Galen, who had retreated into grim silence again. Virdon suspected that Galen's obvious displeasure sweetened the loss for Burke, and ruefully shook his head. Team morale had been bad ever since Zana had been wounded.
The houses were only vague shadows behind the billowing wall of fog, but as far as Virdon could see, they were again built in the human style, their doors at ground level. It was probably owed to the rebellion from fifteen years ago - Zana had told him that a lot of ape settlements had been destroyed by humans simply starting forest fires a safe distance away. A town at ground level, with a stockade and a wide area cleared of scrubs and trees around it, was more easily defensible.
Still, this town made him uneasy for some reason. He couldn't put a finger on it - maybe it was just because the fog made it impossible to get an impression of the town's size and layout. It made him feel disoriented, and a tiny bit claustrophobic.
Galen seemed to be just as lost; they had to stop several times to ask for the way to the watch house, until the fog finally parted its veils before the black-and-green flag of the simian police.
"I gotta say you've got some nerve to waltz up an' complain to the cops who should actually arrest you," Burke remarked as Galen slung the lines over the rein hitch. "Suppose they have your wanted poster hanging in their cafeteria?"
"Considering their track record with the local criminals, I'm quite confident they won't suddenly care about people the City wants arrested," Galen huffed. "We're already in the borderlands - people here are proud of not caring about the demands of the bigwigs from the South."
"Hope you're right," Burke muttered, but he didn't sound convinced.
Galen had already climbed halfway down, when he suddenly returned to poke his head into the wagon. "Speaking of borderlands..." he said, "Peet, I want you to go with Zana while she finds an inn for us. As that 'guard' had pointed out to me, people are responsible for their own safety here, which makes me wonder what they need the town guard for. Decoration?"
"Taking travelers' complaints, I guess," Burke joked, as he crawled forward to take Galen's place on the driver's seat.
"Alan, you're with me," Galen said. "The sooner I find work for you two, the sooner we can leave. I don't like this town."
"How are you going to find the inn I'll choose?" Zana asked.
"Either send Peet back here, or I'll just ask the guards where to find the cheapest inn in town," Galen said darkly. "It's not as if we have a lot of options left." With that, he jumped from the wagon.
Virdon slowly climbed out of the back. His leg was blessedly silent lately, thanks to Burke's Tai Chi lessons that he insisted on in every weather, but Virdon didn't want to test his luck.
Their stay in the gloriously heated watch house was a predictably quick and unproductive affair. The guard listened patiently to Galen's report, registered his complaint, and sent them away with the vague assurance that the watch would 'look into the matter'. Virdon wisely kept his thoughts about that to himself; a look into Galen's face told him that the ape was aware that the chances of seeing their money again were close to zero. Still, Virdon could understand that Galen had felt compelled to at least make that gesture.
"I am sorry about the money," was all he said when they stepped outside.
Galen waved his apology away. "As Peet had said, it's no use crying over rotten fruit. We need to find a job for you... fortunately, your talents are a bit more versatile than Peet's."
The watch house overlooked the market square, which was roofed over and should've more accurately been called a market hall. While the roof provided protection against the rain, the construction didn't have walls, so the fog was rolling between the stalls as thickly as in the rest of town. There were only a few customers milling about, and the platform where apes offered their own or their humans' services was completely deserted.
"It looks as if business has already closed down for the day," Virdon remarked, careful not to let his relief show too much. These platforms always unnerved him; they not only reminded him of slave markets, they were actually used to sell humans - not just to hire them out.
"Well, I can at least put up a notice at the advertisement board," Galen said. "Maybe an interested customer will turn up tomorrow then." He walked behind the platform, where scraps of scrolls were pinned to a big wooden board, and took another scrap of paper from a box that had been nailed to said board.
"Are you looking for work, good man?"
Virdon turned around at the sound of that new voice. The newcomer was a burly chimpanzee, almost as tall as Virdon, which was rare; he was smiling at Galen, but his eyes were flicking glances at him, and Virdon felt his spine stiffen a bit in response. He was better at shrugging off the apes' calculating glances than Burke, but this fellow's eyes held a glint that made him wary.
For the first time since their crash, he missed the reassuring feel of a gun in his hands.
"Well actually I'm looking for work for him," Galen said. He had tucked his note away and came to Virdon's side.
"Ah," the chimpanzee said and, having Galen's permission now, gave Virdon an unabashed once-over.
Virdon successfully fought the urge to turn on his axis to keep the ape in his sights as the he was slowly circling him, but couldn't help flinching when the chimp's hands brushed all over his body.
"He's a bit old," the ape said. "What kind of work did you have in mind for him?"
"Ah, ah, he's good with his hands," Galen said. "Basket weaving, leatherwork... he's very versatile. And talented."
"Well." The ape had completed his round and was now smiling down at Galen. "I can always use a human with... diverse talents. But for my purposes, he won't need his hands."
Galen looked nonplussed. "He doesn't? What do you need him for?"
The chimp lazily waved a hand. "I'm a man with many business connections, and you know how it is - you need to keep your customers entertained. He just needs to look pretty, and with the color of his hair and eyes, he'll be the absolute star on my estate."
"I see..." Galen still seemed to have his doubts, and Virdon prayed that some of his own, grave doubts were somehow transmitted to the ape's brain.
The other ape started, the smile on his face broadening until the whole man was oozing joviality. "Forgive my manners, I was just dazzled by your human's exotic looks. My name is Ramor; I'm a trader, but my home base is here. I was just about to hibernate, and let parties be parties, my wimminfolk be damned, but you know how it is - in the end, we always give in to the ladies. I'd pay you handsomely if you'd let me have him for a few days."
"How much?" Galen asked, and when the trader named his offer, Virdon knew that the deal was done. The apes put their fists together - their version of a handshake, Virdon assumed - and Ramor began to count the small white squares that they were using for money into Galen's purse.
It was a lot of squares.
Virdon only had a quick moment as Galen passed him to voice his concern. "Don't you think that the sum he paid is a bit suspicious?" he whispered. "So much money for me doing nothing?"
"No," Galen said, unconcerned. "I think the sum is very fortuitous! It's almost a third of the money we lost to those robbers. If I can find a similar deal for Peet, we're almost in the clear. Don't worry," he added, and patted Virdon's arm. "I know these kinds of parties from the City. Some apes are collectors, and they love to put their collections on display. For some it's exotic plants, and for others, it's exotic looking humans. After half an atseht of gawking, the guests will stop even seeing you. They'll all be too busy scheming among themselves, and you'll be just part of the background decoration. It's easy money for you, too - much better than sewing leather all day."
And with those encouraging words, he left. Virdon watched him quickly stride down the central corridor of the market hall as Ramor's hand closed around his bicep.
"Come, my pretty," Ramor purred into his ear. "Let's get to work."