Sinkhole life

I’m afraid some parts of Sabzoras can be a little… uncivilized

This is an installment in a serialized novel. To start at the beginning, go here or navigate from the Table of Contents.

As Ilesh and Moon moved on down the walkway, Rahn considered her own situation. She would need a place to sleep tonight, but she didn’t have the money to pay for an inn. She shook her head, again realizing her lack of preparation. She had seen copper coins before–a novelty in the hands of Enedram traders. But Rahn had never had any money, and it had never occurred to her to want it. Her relatives, despite their coldness to her, had never denied her food, and she had hunted her share since she had learned to shoot. If she needed something else, she made it herself, or hunted and bartered with the meat.

Perhaps she could make the climb to the rim again before nightfall– surely Arbehil and Galthe wouldn’t mind her camping on their land, and she would feel more comfortable laying her bedmat in the open than sleeping in one of these caves.

But first she needed to find out about a caravan to Yanat. That was why she was in this hole in the first place— to get passage to the capital. And to do that, apparently she needed to talk to some guy named Achu.

Given the lateness of the day, Rahn decided to forego the walkway in favor of ladders that took her down the last couple levels, to the second row. Here there was not so much a walkway as a wide street, buzzing with all sorts of activity. There were stalls with merchants selling all manner of things–jewelry and bolts of fine cloth, expensive spiced candies, and dried meats and fruits of kinds that Rahn did not recognize. There were traders doing business, sitting or standing, talking animatedly of the prices of copper and wool.

And there were people everywhere– finely dressed Veyta, Enedram in traditional robes, and Enedram dressed in Veyta style. There were a few others, too– people without Veyta eyes but who did not seem to be Enedram, dressed in strange clothes and speaking strange languages. Rahn felt a little disoriented. It was strange to see so many Veyta and Enedram mingling in one place, the ethnic lines blurring.

“Hey! Watch where you’re walking.”

Rahn looked up to see who she had bumped into. He was a youngish Veyta man with a thin scraggly beard. He seemed to be a guard–he held a spear in one hand and a knife on his belt, and was wearing what might have been a uniform. She had seen many other armed men on the lower levels wearing the same hastily-sewn-on insignia.

“Sorry,” said Rahn, beginning to walk away and then pausing. “Um,” she said, “I’m looking for a man named Achu. Do you know where I can find him?”

The young man squinted at her with exaggerated suspicion. “Let’s say I know an Achu, which I may or may not. What business do you have with him?”

“I… just want to join a caravan, and I heard he was the man to talk to.”

“Hmm,” the guard sniffed, “and why should I believe you?”

“Why… I don’t know, do you get a lot of people around here pretending they want to join caravans?”

“Can’t be too careful,” said the man, “there’s been trouble, lately.”

“Here in Sabzoras?”

“Other places mostly, I think, but the boss told us to be on the lookout for suspicious activity.”

“So… do I seem non-suspicious enough that you’ll tell me where I can find Achu?”

The man gave her one last appraising look, then shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. He’s right over there.” The guard pointed.

The man he had indicated was not far from where they stood. He sat at a stall with a desk and several drawers that seemed to contain papers, for he was currently engaged in placing, removing, and furiously writing upon leaves of parchment and scrolls of soft treated paperbirch bark. As Rahn watched, a man approached the stall and engaged him in discussion. Achu’s face, which had had an intense look upon it while writing, looked even more furious as he spoke, reinforcing his words with forceful gesticulations. Rahn thought the two were arguing and was surprised to see the second man hand over some coins and extend his hand, palm down. Achu clasped it, then drew out another piece of paper and resumed his scribbling.

Rahn thanked the guard and made her way toward the stall. She saw that Achu was Enedram, but wore the tidy dress of a successful merchant rather than the loose, sandy garb of a farmer. The look was betrayed, however, by his reddish hair, which seemed unaware of the forces of gravity and stuck out from his head in every direction but down.

He did not look up as she approached, but continued his scribbling.

“Excuse me,” she said, “are you Achu?”

“May or may not be, depends what you want,” he replied gruffly. They were evasive types, these Sabzoras folk.

“I need to get to Yanat,” said Rahn, “and I want to join a caravan.”

At this he looked up. “Long route,” he said. “Goes roundabout via Cabras, then Zheset, then Maritesh. Or Huza, Thiam, and Maritesh. Or Cabras, Utra, and Maritesh. Gotta stop in Maritesh any way you count it. Five weeks travel minimum, barring weather, camel malfunction, or attack.” He spoke quickly, and Rahn had to attend closely to follow.

“Camel malfunction?” asked Rahn.

“Lameness, death, running off into the desert–things happen, it’s a risky industry.”

“Five weeks…” said Rahn, “Is there any faster way– can’t you go straight there without stopping in all those other places?”

“No, no, no,” said Achu, expression growing increasingly furious. “Not possible, way beyond the ratio, can’t be done at commercial prices.”

“The ratio?” asked Rahn.

“The ratio!” Achu’s arms agitated wildly as he spoke. “Water to tradable goods. Shorter treks mean less water to carry, more goods, more profit. Direct route to Yanat not profitable–got to carry nothing but water. Not profitable unless you’ve got a VIP passenger who’s willing to pay premium. Are you rich?”

Rahn started under his sudden glare. “Rich? No…”

“Didn’t think so. Anyhow, VIPs usually take the long route. Direct route to Yanat’s too close to the edge of the other ratio.” An odd sound was coming from the man, and Rahn realized he was laughing.

“The other ratio?” Somehow this conversation had reduced Rahn to some kind of strange parrot.

“The value you place on speed to the value you place on staying alive!” The amusement on his face quickly resolved into the usual expression of fury. “Let’s cut to the chase. I can get you on a caravan to Yanat day after tomorrow. Camel and waterskins included. Provisions not included. Armed guards included, survival not guaranteed. Ten Yanat silvers, five paid up front, five on arrival.”

“Ten silvers…” Rahn had known it would cost money and hadn’t yet figured out how she was going to get it. But based on the prices she had heard called out for goods around Sabzoras, this sounded like a hefty sum. She thought through the items in her pack, wondering what she could trade that would be of value. There was one obvious option. With some feeling of guilt, she pointed to the gold ring in her nose. “What if I give you this?”

He glanced at it briefly. “Eh, two silvers if it’s solid.”

“Two silvers!” Rahn found herself echoing him again, but her hopes of finding a way to Yanat anytime soon were starting to fade. “What if I don’t need a camel?” she asked. “I can just walk with the caravan.”

Though she wouldn’t have thought it possible, Achu looked even more annoyed. “Wouldn’t recommend it. And you’d need a camel to carry your water. But if you walk, I can get the fare for eight.”

That still left a gap of six silvers. “If I had a way to carry my own water,” she said, searching, “what’s to stop me from following the caravan on my own, a ways behind?”

“An arrow through your heart, that’s what’s to stop you,” said Achu. “Desert routes are valuable, proprietary. But I’m here to run a business, not give out advice. My rates are fair. If you don’t have the money, then scram!”

Rahn complied, feeling disheartened. She wandered aimlessly for a bit, seeking for inspiration. Her eyes landed again on the guard. Of all the people swirling about her, he alone seemed unoccupied.

“Hello again,” she said as she approached.

Again he looked at her with suspicion, as if he didn’t want to be seen failing to give someone a hard time. “What do you want now?”

“Achu’s caravan’s not going to work for me. Too expensive.”

“Yeah? So?”

“So I’m wondering who I can talk to in order to get a better deal.”

“You’re not likely to find one on this level. There are a couple other brokers, but Achu’s not one to swindle– if he gave you a price, it’s a good price.”

“Well, what about the other levels?”

“Eh,” said the guard, “There’s a dame on the third level who does a bit of that, but…”

“But what?”

“Well, she’s into all sorts of business, and let’s just say she does not enjoy the same spotless reputation as Achu here.”

That didn’t sound promising, and Rahn remembered Arb’s warning about the third level, but she didn’t have much choice. She asked the guard for the woman’s name.

“They call her the Crow,” he said. “If you ask around, you’ll find her soon enough.”

Rahn didn’t feel optimistic about this Crow, but the next step had presented itself and so she took it, finding the nearest ladder and climbing up.

It was growing dark as Rahn emerged on the third level– the light faded early here below the surface. The warm light of candles and lamps shone out from caves all around like subterranean stars. Rahn walked along slowly, taking it in. The third level had a platform like the second, but less wide, and more of the business and activity seemed to be happening inside the caves. There were plenty of people milling about here as well, as eclectic a bunch as below. Yet– and maybe it was just the deepening shadows– the crowds here seemed to have a darker and wilder air. She passed a pub just as a fight was breaking out within and hurried past. Women with stained red lips stood in front of another cave, beckoning to men as they passed by.

Rahn tried to find someone to ask for directions, but everyone she approached turned away or grunted their unwillingness to speak to her. She shook her head– it was so loud here! The constant echoing noise was beginning to give her a headache. She drifted aimlessly onward.

After wandering for a time, she passed a narrow, unmarked cave. A large Veyta guard stood in front of the entrance, and she noticed that he did not bear the same insignia as the other guards, but had a black bird tattooed on his forearm.

“Excuse me,” she began uncertainly, “Is this… where I can find the Crow?”

The man turned his head slowly and gave her a look of appraisal from head to toe. He must not have assessed her to be a threat, because he remained standing like a tree, arms crossed. He did not reply.

“I just… I saw that you have a crow symbol, and I was wondering if…”

The man still said nothing, but continued looking at her fixedly.

“I just wanted to talk to her about a caravan, and if this is where she is, is it alright if…” She trailed off. The man’s silent, heavy stare unnerved her. “So can I go in?” she finally managed.

Without taking his eyes off her, the man took two deliberate steps to the side, leaving the entrance open. “In the back,” said the guard in a shockingly deep voice. And so, highly unsure that this was a good idea, Rahn entered.

Most of the caves that Rahn had seen in Sabzoras had seemed shallow, with wide entrances to capture as much sunlight and fresh air as possible. This cave, however, was a tunnel rather than a divot in the rock. Rahn shivered. She had often laughed at the old ladies in her village and their superstitions about evil beasts and spirits under the ground. All the same, she had never been truly underground, and she had to admit that she did not enjoy the feeling.

Unlike the straight or smoothly-curved walls of the dwellings Rahn had seen in most of Sabzoras, the walls and ceiling here were rough, the passage winding and sloping slightly upward. The floors, however, had been smoothly cut, and copper pipes ran along the walls. Rooms opened off either side– some man-made while others appeared to be natural chambers. A small amount of light spilled into the passageway from these chambers, where people sat in dim candlelight, talking in low voices.

Soon Rahn came to a doorway hung with a curtain. The passageway stopped here– this must be the back, as the guard had said. She could hear voices inside. “Excuse me,” she ventured, but the people inside didn’t seem to hear. Hesitantly, she pulled one edge of the curtain aside.

It was a bit lighter in this room, with a fire burning in a hearth in the back, along with a few candles throughout the chamber. A handful of people sat or reclined on cushions and divans, some drinking wine and others smoking from water pipes. The smoke from these, together with smoke from the fire and candles, formed together into a hazy cloud that hit Rahn all at once. She found herself standing in the doorway engaged in a fit of coughing.

When she managed to stop coughing, Rahn looked up to see several pairs of green eyes looking at her. “Um, hello,” she began, “I’m looking for someone called the Crow, and I was wondering if I’m in the right place?”

“Come, child,” said a smooth voice. “Yes, come closer.” Rahn complied, stepping deeper into the room. A waft of fresh air hit her, coming from she didn’t know where, and she took one relieved breath before being enveloped again by the haze.

Rahn knew at once that the woman who had spoken to her was the one called the Crow. She was reclined on a divan, holding a small water pipe. She was robed all in black and adorned with copper jewelry that clinked softly as she moved. She regarded Rahn with intense green eyes beneath heavy lids. Though her posture was relaxed, something in the attitudes of the others in the room made it clear that this woman was in charge.

As Rahn stepped before the woman into the circle, the Crow exhaled a breath of smoke. As she gazed at it, the smoke formed into strange patterns, with the suggestion of wings. It held its shape for an instant and then dispersed. Rahn watched, entranced. This woman must be a strong ashavela to have so much control.

The Crow smiled.. “What have we here… a lost savage child come to civilization for the first time? Though I’m afraid some parts of Sabzoras can be a little… uncivilized.” A wide, dull-eyed man sitting near the Crow wheezed in laughter at this. “Don’t be afraid, child,” continued the Crow. “Tell me what I can do for you.”

“Well,” said Rahn huskily, trying not to cough, “I need to get to Yanat, and I want to join a caravan.”

“Yanat,” said the Crow, “That’s a long road, child.” She drew on her pipe again, then blew out the smoke. This time, the smoke formed itself into a winding line. A hazy camel, trodding wispily through the air, moved along the path. “There is a route through Cabras, Utra, and Maritesh, then on to Yanat. Perhaps I could find a spot for you, say, for twelve Yanat silvers.”

“Twelve?” said Rahn in dismay, “But that’s more than…”

The Crow waved her hand, and the hazy map dissolved. “More than someone else’s offer? Well done– it seems our savage child knows not to trust the first person she meets.” The large man wheezed again in dopey laughter. “So what price did they offer you?”

“Ten silvers,” said Rahn, “or eight if I walk. But I need–I was hoping to find something cheaper.”

“Ah yes,” mused the Crow, “lost primitive children do not come with copper in their pockets. Let us think– perhaps there is a way.” She rose smoothly from her divan, gliding forward. The Crow circled round Rahn, lightly brushing Rahn’s hair with her hand.

“There is a shorter path to Yanat,” said the Crow, “less circuitous. One that requires a… strong constitution.”

“Strong constitution!” The man near her continued to echo these words in dopey amusement. The Crow paid him no mind.

“Most people prefer the longer road.” she continued, “But things could perhaps be arranged if you are very determined. For you, child, I could make the arrangements for as little as six silvers.”

“How… how about four?” asked Rahn.

“See how she learns!” laughed the Crow. “But I can see from your face as you speak, child, that you don’t have four silvers in your pocket. I doubt you have one. Be off now, to beg a crumb of bread for your dinner.” And with that the Crow waved Rahn away with a hand, then turned her back to Rahn as if she’d forgotten Rahn was there.

Rahn stood unhappily for a moment, then turned and walked back through the doorway.

When she emerged from the passageway, awkwardly sliding past the large guard, the sky above had darkened. All around, candles and lamps twinkled from the caves like warm-hued stars. There was a strange beauty to it, but Rahn felt tired and dejected as she trod aimlessly along the platform.

She stopped suddenly as she almost ran into someone in the darkness. “Hey– you again!” It was the guard from the second level. “Are you following me?”

“What–?” The guard’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe I am. Keeping an eye on people I suspect of suspicious activity.”

Rahn laughed. “Nah, you weren’t following me, not from the way you jumped when I came up to you. So why’d you move up to this level?”

The guard’s shoulders slouched. “Got reposted. More suspicious activity up here at this time of night.”

Rahn noted that there were plenty of dubious characters all around, but they didn’t seem to be deterred in the least by the guard’s presence. “So you know Sabzoras…” said Rahn exploratorily, “maybe you can help me. I need money.”

“Eh, who doesn’t?” said the guard. “If you’re begging for copper, you can shove off.”

“Not begging, just asking a question. Is there any way to make money quickly in this town?”

The guard smirked. “Sure, for young ladies like you, there’s always plenty of employment opportunities here in Sabzoras.” He nodded knowingly toward a nearby establishment where a woman stood in a low-cut blouse.

Rahn felt her face grow hot. “I didn’t mean… I mean, any other way.”

The guard scowled. “Do you think I’d be standing around here all night waiting to get shivved if I knew a faster way to make some copper? If you’re gonna stand here and pester me about money, then beat it.”

That was the third time today someone had told her to get lost. And the constant, echoey noise of this place–Rahn was feeling eager to be out of this sinkhole. She looked up at the dark sky above, and then let her gaze sink down to the lake below. The water looked black now. The lake… Rahn remembered something Arbehil had said.

She turned once more back to the guard with new energy. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Why do you want to …”

“My name’s Rahn. I’m not being suspicious, just tell me your name.”

“Eh, name’s Boot.”

“Boot? Like a…”

“Yeah, yeah, like a boot you wear on your foot, har har, get over it.”

Rahn wondered if anyone in Sabzoras had a conventional name. “Boot,” she said, “is it true that there’s copper and gold at the bottom of the lake?”

He grunted. “So they say, what’s your point?”

“Do people ever try to go down and pick it up?”

“Eh, people dive for it sometimes.”

“And do they get it?”

Boot scratched his scraggly beard. “My friend Tik, he said he did, but I think he was lying. How should I know? But he is the best swimmer I know. What, you think you’re gonna swim down there and pick up a pile of loot?”

“I don’t know,” said Rahn, “I’d have to learn how to swim first.”

Boot slapped a hand across his face. “I suppose you imagine I haven’t got better things to do than to stand here and listen while you…”

Rahn wasn’t listening. She was looking at a thick rope dangling onto the platform from the level above.

“Boot!” she said, “I’ve got an idea. But… it’ll have to wait until morning. Are you working in the morning?”

“Yes, but…”

“What level will you be on?”

“One, but…”

“I’ll find you in the morning!” And with that, ignoring Boot’s protestations, Rahn began the climb back up to the rim, made more treacherous by the darkness. In spite of the weariness of her body, Rahn was propelled again by the energy of having a plan.