Wars of the Aoten

  Chapter XXI

  The dawn broke, and all turned out well in the Bedoua camp. The men and women crept cautiously from their tents, and shepherds led the rumidonts from their covered corral. A heavy dew upon the sand made it stick to feet in great clumps. No sign of atrocity could be seen, but that did not mean disaster didn’t loom nearby: Dungo arose and stretched, well rested for a day’s talking.

  “You see? Have we not been kind to you, and saved you from sure death?” he began as the Melics tried to stretch the kinks out of their backs. Sunrise had awakened Artur, and now he thanked the missing stars to finally get up from his cot. The blankets woven of rumidont wool offered more plush comfort than the furs he generally slept upon, but he much preferred the dusky odor of his own bed to the sickeningly sweet fragrance of rumidont. Moss and Skree nuzzling about in the tent didn’t help things any.

  Dungo immediately took up his toy hippus and inspected all its workings as he spoke. “Yes, you will be very glad that you did not meet with Wolven last night, and you will find the next month very enjoyable here, until the full moon again shows its face. The Bedoua have many great wonders to show you, but none to compare with this very fine example of art. It appears nearly alive! But we have glass, and poisons, and weavings we must show you, for certainly you have no such things. A strange fact about the arts of the Bedoua, which I have only just now thought of: They are beautiful, but it hides their danger. Except for the weavings. But the glass and poisons, they can be very dangerous, dangerous like Wolven. And our cheese, you have sampled our wonderful cheese, perhaps we can arrange a trade, milk and cheese for that wonderful concoction. What did you call it? Hoo-nay? No? Oh, honey! Yes, the Bedoua would love to trade with you for hoo-nay. Where does it come from?” His throat clicked joyfully.

  “From bees,” offered Theodoric as he stuffed his meager belongings into his knapsack.

  “Bees?” Dungo looked horrified. “From bugs? How can that be?”

  “Yes, bee,” said Theodoric, willing to risk a joke nobody but his fellows would understand.

  “What a disgusting idea. The pests fly into the meadow lands, sting people, then fly away. They make us grateful that they hate the desert! How does one go about to milk a bee? No matter, I cannot deny that the serum tastes magical. We must talk, we must come to some agreement, to get the wonderful hoo- — bee milk from you. Today I will show you all the wonderful gifts and skills of the Bedoua, and then we can negotiate trade, to get a beautiful vat of bee milk. The Bedoua can show you many things, even you Melics of the trees, that you will love to have for your own. Secrets of making we cannot share with you, but the items themselves, you will feast your eyes upon them in joy and never guess how we make them. Even you, Rufoux, your fondness for fire burns hot, yet you would never know the glass is burned out of the sand. But we have time for that, much time for delicious conversation! You must stay as our guests, and you will be welcome to remain as long as you like.”

  “You have hit just the point,” said Artur, really out of context. “We must leave right away.”

  “Really?” Dungo looked hurt. “Why?”

  “The girl lies ill from her injuries. She needs healing quickly.”

  “The who?” asked Dungo.

  “The Rufoux girl we told you about last night,” said Theodoric. “She suffers severely and requires care that we cannot give. You said you would send Bedoua healing.”

  “Yes! Oh, yes! Is she as bad as that? Well, it can’t be helped, I suppose. Yes, Krait and Humus will go with you. Humus knows the secrets of roots and bark, and he can help the girl, I am sure. Then you will return, and you will bring great vats of bee milk, and we will talk. Yes, we will talk much at that time.”

  Theodoric had a tired, knowing look in his eyes, and Artur nearly made a rude comment before Picta accidentally stepped on his toe. Dungo’s aide Krait guided Aachen through the camp to Humus, and he listened attentively to Andreia’s symptoms. Reunited with Kylie, Artur sharpened her blade on blocks of hard cheese, part of a generous breakfast that also included wonderfully coarse bread and hot milk with herbs (and extra honey for Dungo.) Then at last the little band struck out for the Rufoux camp accompanied by Krait and Humus, along with his brothers Ingle and Mistral.

  “Overall, that went better than expected,” remarked Theodoric.

  “Can we have quiet, please?” groused Artur, and Picta mocked him behind his back.