The Dust of Rhll by Meskimen J. F

Author:Meskimen, J. F.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bongo Books
Published: 2021-07-20T00:00:00+00:00

By the time they met the toll taker, they were deep enough in the valley that they could see the ocean through the gap in the hills to the north. There the shape of the Roost, much as stories described it, breached the clear horizon. All was quiet, the fields and houses seemingly empty, until they came upon her pulling up some roots by the roadside.

She was more the figure of a witch than the others they'd encountered, an ancient-looking woman in a robe with a long hood. As they approached, she rose from her labor and stepped into the middle of the road in front of them.

The commander, the captain, and their guards were riding ahead of the foresters in anticipation of this encounter. Smatt had chosen to join them, hoping that perhaps his sign might count for something even here. The others seemed not to remember the hut or the young woman that had stopped them before. The chill that came over Smatt on seeing her seemed to come over him alone.

"You bring many men and many lizards into our house," she said in accented Saspian. "We are not fond of men, nor of lizards. There is a price for bringing them into our house."

"We have gold," the commander said with a note of contempt. "Tell us the price and you will have it, but let us pass."

"There is no need for gold here. But my fields need weeding."

"Conchist, signal for the slaves to be brought forward."

"Your slaves are not enough. Everyone must work. You can take shifts tending to your lizards and antelopes."

It was dusk by the time they finished pulling up the weeds, Smatt toiling alongside his men and stripped to his loincloth like the rest. Only the commander himself refused to work, to which the old hag said:

"He is but one of many, yet thinks he is more. Yes, we can spare his labor and we can spare his men." She implied what would not be spared with an ominous smile. The commander had scoffed at her.

Perhaps he'd been right. This woman had no apparent power other than the men's fear of her. When the weeding was done, and everyone began to dry off and dress again, she said:

"Your next task is to dig a ditch to bring water to my hempfield. Will you join your men in this?"

"Never," Garong said. "My men will lose all respect for me if they see me toiling like a slave." Yet he commanded them to do same, even his officers, even Smatt.

The firebeetle was beginning to wear off and the moon had risen by the time they finished the ditch. Smatt had done his share of digging in the past, but always with a bronze spade, never the fire-hardened stick of a common laborer. It was bone-rattling work that sapped him to the core, and it took a long while to stop sweating and catch his breath when it was done.

"Your ditch is dug, and night falls on us, my lady," the commander said.

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