March Upcountry

"I'd almost prefer to get our toes wet locally in Pasule before we tackle the big city," he went on, "but if we're going to get the shields and armor made, it will have to be in Marshad. On the other hand, we need resupply, too, and Pasule might be a better source for that."

As he spoke, he looked around the nearer fields, where peasants had stopped their work to gawk at the force coming out of the jungle. Most of the workers were breaking ground for another crop of barleyrice, but other laborers were harvesting the ubiquitous kate fruit. That was good. It meant that both the fruit and the previous barleyrice harvest would be fully available when it was time to buy.

"Yeah," Jasco agreed, with a grunting laugh that sounded almost Mardukan, as he, too, watched the workers, "these damn pack beasts go through some grain."

"Sergeant Major, I want you and Poertena to handle the resupply and procurement of the shields."

"Got it." The NCO made a note in her toot. They'd discussed the possibilities before, of course, but now that they were actually able to see the lay of the land, it seemed clear that Pasule would be a better, and probably cheaper, source for the food.

"We've seen that they can make laminated wood, plywood," said Roger, who'd been quietly listening. "We should have the shields made out of that."

"Plywood?" Jasco sounded incredulous, but, then, he hadn't been present to hear the prince discuss sword making with the Voitanese leaders. "You've got to be joking... Your Highness. I'd want something a little more solid than that!"

"No, he isn't joking." O'Casey shook her head. "The Roman shield was probably the most famous design ever to come out of Terran history, and it was made out of 'plywood.' The histories always call it 'laminated wood,' but that's what plywood is, and it's enormously tougher than an equivalent thickness of 'solid' wood."

"They have to have metal or leather rims to protect the edges," the prince continued, "but the bulk of the shield is plywood."

"Okay." Pahner nodded. "Kosutic, coordinate with Lieutenant MacClintock on the design of the shields." He looked around and shook his head. "I hope I don't have to remind anybody that we need to maintain as low a profile as possible. We can't afford another butt-kicking like Voitan. Hopefully, we'll be greeted as heroes for taking out the Kranolta and be able to pass on quickly. But if we get into a hassle, we have to think our way out of it. We're way too short on ammo to shoot our way out!"

Corporal Liszez trotted toward the command group with one of the locals. The Mardukan wore a haversack full of tools and appeared to be some sort of tinker.

"LT?" the corporal said as she approached Roger.

"Whatcha got, Liz?" the prince replied with a nod.

"This scummy's gabbling something, but the translator can't make anything of it."

"Oh, great," O'Casey sighed. "Dialect shift. Just what we needed."

"Get on it," Pahner said. "We have to be able to communicate with these people." The local was gesturing across the river at the distant city, obviously agitated about something. He either wanted the company to go there, or else he was warning them away. It could have been either, and Pahner nodded and gave him a closed-lip, Mardukan-style smile. "Yes, yes," he said "we're going to Marshad."

Either the smile or the words seemed to calm the local. He gestured, as if offering to lead them, but Pahner shook his head.

"We'll be along," he said soothingly. "Thank you. I'm sure we can find our own way."

He smiled again and started to wave the still-gabbling local politely away, then paused and looked at O'Casey.

"Do you want to talk with him?"

"Yes." She sounded a bit absent, obviously because she was concentrating on the translation—or lack thereof—from her toot. "I'm starting to pick up a few words. Let him walk with us to the town, and I'm pretty sure I can have most of the language by the time we arrive."

"Okay," Pahner agreed. "I think that's about it. Questions? Comments? Concerns?"

There were none, so the company reassembled and moved on up the road.

The ancient high road became even more cracked and damaged looking as it entered the planted areas, despite clear indications of repairs. Heavy deposits of silt had been thrown up to either side, obviously as the result of post-flood road clearing, which forced the company to move between low, brown walls. In places, the walls built up to true dikes to protect the barleyrice crops, and in places the dikes were planted with the tall kate trees.

The peasants harvesting the kate fruit dangled from ropes or perched on tall, single-pole ladders that were unpleasantly reminiscent of scaling ladders, but they paused in their labors to gape at the human contingent as it headed toward the distant city-state. Whether because of the humans' outlandish look, or the fact that they came on the road from dead Voitan, the locals' reaction to them was far different from reactions in Q'Nkok.

"You'd think they'd never seen a human before," Denat snorted.

"Buncha rubes," Tratan agreed with a grunt. "Ripe for the plucking." He looked down at the diminutive human striding along beside him under his huge rucksack. "What should we teach them first?"

"Poker," Poertena replied. "Always start wit' poker. Den, I du

"They pocked," Cranla said with a grunt of laughter. He waved at one of the harvesters. "Hello, you stupid peasants. We're going to pluck your merchants for all they're worth."

Julian pointed at the Mardukan tribesmen with his chin.

"They've taken quite a shine to Poertena," he said to Despreaux.

"Birds of a feather," the other squad leader responded absently. "Is it just me, or does this place look fairly run down?" she went on.

The company was approaching a fork in the road, where the travelers had to choose between Marshad or Pasule. There was another official looking building on a mound where the roads diverged, but although it was in better repair, it had obviously been converted into an agricultural outbuilding.

"Yeah," Julian said, glancing at the structure. "I think the loss of the Voitan trade must have hit them hard."

The company took the left fork and headed for the river. The solid stone bridge which crossed it was the only structure they'd so far seen which appeared to have been properly kept up. In fact, there'd been some obvious renovations—the well-fortified guard posts on either bank looked like fairly recent additions.

The guards on the near bank gestured for the caravan to halt, and Julian looked around as the long train of flar-ta dragged to stop. An outcropping of the underlying gneiss of the Hadur region rose steeply on the right side of the road, he noted. The oxbow river took a bend around it, and an extension of the outcropping acted as a firm base for the bridge.

The hill was surmounted by trees and what appeared to have once been a small park. A well-made road in very poor repair wound to the summit, but it was obvious that the track was rarely used anymore. Only a thin path cut through the layered silt and entangling undergrowth on its lower sections. Despreaux followed his eye, and shook her head as Captain Pahner argued with the guards on the bridge. They obviously felt that the travelers ought to keep themselves—and the business they represented—on this side of the river.

"This place has really been hammered," she observed.

"No shit," Julian agreed. "It looks like it used to be a pretty nice place, though. Maybe it'll get that way again with Voitan back in business."

"We'll see," Despreaux said. "The old Voitan wasn't built in a day."

"No," Julian acknowledged as the caravan lurched back into movement, "but that guy from T'an K'tass looked like he was going to try to do it pretty damned fast."