Seeds of Trouble 01

With lifelong punctuality born of boarding school and fostered by foreign office, Paraskive Taxidies was first into the baths when the doors opened. She hung up her dressing gown and stepped into the warm water, first immersing her long, greying hair and then stretching out her legs to let the heat ease its way into her joints. Other early bathers soon followed her example. Disregarding them, Paraskive relaxed, watching the steam curl up towards the ceiling.

Out here they only had running water for nine hours of the day. This did not bother Paraskive, who considered herself good at roughing it. It was a useful trait when you worked in the colonies. Even this one, rightly considered the jewel in Soprone's crown -- well, not a crown, not these days; call it a circlet or some kind of understated tiara. Anyway, here in valuable Quetchia, being a relatively small island not far from the equator, there wasn't enough fresh water to permit extravagance. The plants came first. They always came first.

In contrast to her bath, which was the one time of day during which she insisted on being undisturbed, Paraskive's breakfast was a pain aux dattes and a lukewarm lemon tea, taken on the back of a wagon while her assistant held on over the bumps and read the day's correspondence to her. Once they had toured the plantations, Paraskive stopped out of habit to talk to one or two of the workers and have a closer look at the tall, fennel-like plants. It was the middle of the growing season and the peach-coloured flower heads were fully open. However, it was the resin that made Quetchia rich.

After that diversion, it was back to the offices for the desk work. Paraskive was a little ashamed to admit that this was the part she enjoyed the most. She had been stationed everywhere from swamp to desert, but you always knew where you were filing an IMB54. Paraskive, as neutrally as she was able to judge, thought she was good at her job. Certainly, as far as she knew, her superiors back home in Soprone consistently received the same impression. Stick to it through this posting and in five years' time she would be eligible for early, lucrative retirement. That was a definite perk of government work.

It was a short walk at Paraskive's brisk pace from the offices to her cabin. The attractive man who'd shared her bed last night was still there and making dinner. Clearly this one had promise. She kissed him hello and went to change, then over white fishcakes she told him about her day.

As it happened, it turned out to be the last normal day Paraskive had for a good while.

Closer than it actually was, people had more personally vital problems. Zashta did his part of keeping the clan fed, including hunting and trapping.

Today, there had been something, maybe a marmot, in a trap, but a lion had found it first. Zashta froze when he noticed her, still a good way away, but apparently she hadn't spotted him yet. He started backing away, gripping his flint knife, nervous because she would not be occupied for long. At the very edge of losing sight of her around a rock edge he turned - he thought that out of the corner of his eye he saw the big cat's ears swivel and head lift into his direction.

He wasn't going to look again to check, and instead turned and started jogging back the barely perceptible path he'd come. Sure of his way, but not sure if he was being followed by something that could make a meal out of him, he sped to a full-out run. Quite apart from his own skin, he had to warn the others; it had been quite a while since one of those cats claimed territory here.

Too sure to find things ahead as they had been, he never saw what he ran into when rounding a boulder.

He had no idea what he ran into, but it seemed to swallow him whole. Nothing for a moment, then and hot, moist air in his face, and ground under his feet again. Soft soil rather than hard rock; that and the shock made him stumble and fall to his knees. Heartbeat and breathing rapid not only with exertion, Zashta looked around.

All around him were long-stalked plants, their unfamiliar smell saturating the air, the few he had accidentally bent not making it any lighter. One more thing to worry about. On top of anything else, what was it? The plants grew in neat rows, stretching quite a way into the distance in two directions. Big fields. And the warm air. Did he somehow end up in the North? Dealing with the lion might have been better.

After a deep breath and a quick look around, Zashta headed down the gap between two rows of plants, more or less into the direction he thought he'd come from.

However, it was surprisingly easy to get turned around among the neat rows of stalks. Especially when the sun was directly overhead, providing heat but no help with direction.

Zashta was close to a wide path, or dirt road, which cut between the fields. Through the plants along the edge of it he could spot two... people... in the shade of a small tree. Both were men. They were roughly his size, but lying down, on their sides, leaning on an elbow apiece and facing each other. They had food, and there was a great deal of talk and a little laughter while they weren't eating it.

They weren't afraid.

They had tanned, olive skin, and pointed ears that curved close to their heads. They wore hats, whose brims formed a rough semicircle shading the face and leaving the back of the neck uncovered. Their hair was long, their clothes strange.

One of them gestured proprietorially at the plants, stretching off into the distance behind him, and said something that caused the other to snort, begin to choke and flap his hand while recovering from it.

Zashta watched them from the cover of the field, too far away to hear more than meaning he was trying to do three things at the same time: In addition to the watching, paying attention to his surroundings so nothing snuck up to him, and trying to figure out what to do.

He was tempted to try to talk to them and ask for help, but going from what he'd heard from Shai, if they didn't, and gave him away, he would be in a world of trouble, and if they did, they all might still be, if they were found out.

Less philosophically, he would have to find food - he had no idea which part of these plants was meant to be eaten, and if they were ripe enough yet - and, more urgently, water.

Water went downhill, but what Zashta's mind craved was a high place to get an overview of the area.

While he avoided making a decision, he watched the laughing, chatting people, and thought of Shai's stories were. The old goblin had come from the North before Zashta's birth, and with his shy and nervous nature as well as his stories had built a rather darker picture of the North.

For the first time, Zashta considered that still feeling out of place would account for a lot of Shai's nature, and with a short grin wondered if the weaver would switch places with him now if he could.

Having been idle long enough - probably too long - he tried if he could walk parallel to the path unnoticed, in the direction that seemed more like uphill.

There was a gentle rise in one direction, which sadly turned out to be deceptive. The fields continued into the distance, on average fairly flat. There were buildings, still some distance off.

Zashta saw more people at the edges of the fields or on the roadside. Many of them were eating or resting as the first pair had been. At one point someone passing him in the opposite direction seemed to spot Zashta, and even called out something cheerful-sounding that he didn't understand. The stranger didn't stop, though, or seem to expect an answer.

All in all, he felt both foolish and incompetent. He couldn't blame all of that on the heat, though it certainly helped.

Let's see... I need water and knowledge, and to avoid people. Over there is a settlement, where there are bound to be water and people. I might gain knowledge if I went somewhere I had a better view, in short, out of the field, but I'm more likely to run into people there. The best way of finding things out would be, of course, having a chat with the locals. Remembering the greeting or whatever it had been, he amended the thought, If we can understand each other.

He gave a short, voiceless laugh. There was only one thing he could realistically drop from his list, and there was no telling if it'd do any good. At least he hadn't seen any elves yet. Still, the thought of going directly to the settlement, or even just out onto the street, seemed like challenging his luck more than neccessary. So he'd see if he could talk to someone on the edge, at least.

Won't I feel a right fool if I just fell and hit my head, for worrying so much about imagined things. Well, not if that lion eats me. The thought raised a grin.

A lone man came out of the settlement just then. He had a large satchel, not very full-looking, slung over one shoulder.

He was on the tall side, physically imposing to a moderate degree, and had a tattoo on his nearside arm. Honey hair, below the shoulder, but still definitely male. Like the others he wore a hat, but it and his clothes seemed a little more formal; shiny string on the garment ties, and not as loose-fitting overall.

He was reading the back of a paper envelope.

From just beyond the edge of the path, Zashta watched him.

The different clothes made him nervous. He had a bad feeling about trying to talk to someone who stood out like that. And him being a lot taller and broader than me has nothing whatsoever to do with it, yep. On the plus side he was alone, while most others had been in pairs or groups. And no-one else was in sight right now.

Before he could talk himself out of the idea, Zashta slowly stepped out to the very edge of the path. The shiny stranger was far enough away still that it shouldn't look like an ambush.

It was an effort to appear more or less relaxed. Zashta wondered just how strange he looked to the people here. From those he'd seen, his skin was darker and more reddish, his ears and nose bigger than was normal here. Taking in details of the specimen he wanted to talk to, he wondered what had happened, or been done to, his hands.

The tall stranger looked up from his envelope, saw Zashta and did a double-take, seeming to note both his appearance and that he was waiting for him.

He slowed and said something interrogatory... or at least his voice rose at the end of the statement, incomprehensible as it was.

When he caught sight of Zashta's hands, he started staring at them.

Self-conscious as he was at the moment, that made his his hands - with three fingers between one thumb on each side, perfectly normal - twitch once before he got it under control. Fidgeting would be embarrassing, so he let his arms hang down not-quite relaxedly.

Zashta let the sounds run through his head, but they did not want to assemble in a way that made sense. After clearing his throat he said, "I would like to understand, but it is not easy." He spoke quite slowly and distinctly, as far as his dry throat allowed.

The man looked at him for a second, then he shifted his bag strap so that it wouldn't swing around when he put both hands, palms inwards and odd single thumbs splayed, on his collarbone. More slowly this time, he said "Al-lik".

Then he appeared to realise he was still holding the envelope, and stuffed it back into the satchel.

His opposite considered for a moment, but considering the gesture assumed it was a name. He pointed at himself - right hand splayed, fingertips touching his chest, and said, "Zashta".

That caused another spate of incomprehensible words from he of the shiny hat. He stopped again when Zashta clearly still didn't understand him, began to turn around, thought better of it, then pointed to the settlement - or one particular building, possibly - and spoke again, taking a step or two back in that direction by way of demonstration.

Zashta reflexively took a step back and hesitated, looking from Allik to the settlement and back.

It earned him more words, attempting either 'reassuring' or 'persuasive' in tone. The uniformed man pointed again, definitely singling out a particular building.

Most of the houses in this strange settlement had two storeys; this one had three, or at least a shed covering half the roof of the second floor. Perhaps a roof terrace or a weird place for storage.

The windows were large; glazed like some of the other buildings' were, but standing open. At least escape might not be too difficult, if it came to that.

The man with the satchel took off his hat and began fiddling with it.

Zashta sighed, looking up and to the side over the fields for a moment, and pulled an eartip nervously. What tipped the scales was that Allik - if Zashta read him right - did not seem to be afraid. Whatever I do here, it will be stupid. Might as well finish what I started.

He started walking towards the settlement.

That cheered up the other man greatly. He spoke up a few times on the way into 'town', proudly pointing out a few buildings that were not, to be honest, much different from those around them. All were constructed from oblong sections of wood panelling.

There was someone washing the windows of the building at which they arrived. She was scraping at a stubborn bit of bird dropping with her fingernails through the chamois, and she looked up when they passed.

Allik's talking made sure Zashta didn't forget about the problem of communication. He couldn't work up the nerve to try again, concentrating on trying to looking relaxed and non-threatening to whoever lived here. His guide seemed happy enough just talking at him for the moment, anyway.

Wondering if the window glass was some kind of knapped crystal, or if they had a way of turning water solid here, provided some distraction. He took care not to stare at the person busying herself with one, despite wondering if she was a girl or a small woman, and instead pointed at the door and asked Allik, "Inside?"

The shiny-corded one also pointed towards the door and said something else. The one washing the windows responded and flapped the cloth at him. This appeared to be close enough to permission, or perhaps confirmation. The man opened the door and went in.

---

Paraskive had just adjusted the drapes so that the light wasn't falling on the back of her neck, where it would otherwise risk giving her a stripe of sunburn. The window stood open; on the sill, some tea patiently wound its steam upwards. It was a productive day so far, so Paraskive felt a little irritation when interrupted. This was mitigated a great deal by the fact that it was Alic, looking as delicious as ever.

"This is a nice surprise," Paraskive said, noticing as she kissed him hello that he seemed distracted. "Is everything all right?"

"I'm not sure, Kiva," said Alic. "A stranger's just shown up and, well, he seems... strange."

"Strange how?"

"He doesn't speak Sop or Induban, and his hands look like they've been maimed."

"Castaway?"

"He looks confused enough."

"I'd better go and have a see." Paraskive straightened her hair in the little mirror on the wall behind the door.

"You look beautiful," said Alic, tickling her neck with his breath.

"Tch, you! I'll go and quickly sort this out," she said, and cupped his face for a moment with one hand, "and then you can tell me more."

Zashta took Alic letting the door fall shut in his face as a hint that he should wait outside, and did so, looking around him to pass the time.

When someone came out of the door, he took a step back, ducked his head and mumbled a polite greeting. After a quick glance over her shoulder looking for Alic, he had another longer look at her face. She seemed too small to be a grown woman, but she looked too mature to be a half-grown girl.

He looked very confused indeed.