prissi

The music for this chapter would be Triskilian Tourdion Arabica. (Even though Tourdion is an old French drinking song, but this interpretation perfectly catches the myriad of large and small cascades in Wo'lua.)

I have also coaxed out a somewhat matching image of Wo'lua from midjourney.

Brother Tsuwangli talked to the village elder for some time; the girl and I just stood his left, oour contribution was each a smile. When the elder invited the cleric into the tiny hut behind him, I took it as a sign that our presence was no longer required. I nodded to the girl and she walked proudly beside me to a large tree where I sat down. Now, at last, the other children dared to come closer, their parents still watching us critically from a distance. I was petted and grabbed by the toddlers and admired by the boys and some of the girls as I flexed my arm muscles. My body was still good for children's diplomacy, the Pied Piper cat-squirrel had accomplished another mission. The children also taught me their language, starting with words like 'hand', 'boy', 'girl' and so on. I found their language easier than Kren, even though I had to take great care not to bite my tongue at half of the sounds. Moreover, they had a verb at the end: 'Boy Sheb'ets riding'. But what made the difference was that unlike Kren, there was no change whether I rode, he rode or any of the other 17 horribly complicated cases of Kren verb conjugation. So I was soon able to say 'hand stone throwing?' without worrying about the conjugation.

Next, they taught me a game called 'Hide the Chisel'. Or in my case, a stone for fairness. You had to hide said chisel in your hand and then perform whatever action the guesser called for. Like jumping, spinning, waving or whatever the other thought would help guess which hands were holding the chisel. I took this to the next level by using my front paws as well. Now there were four places for them to guess. Lots of fun and laughter.

Then we were called for lunch, water-cooled vegetables cut into pieces and dipped into a spicy cream. I ate with our party under the shade of a tree with some of the older villagers. The children and most of the other villagers ate in the shade of their houses and rested afterwards.

Brother Tsuwangli talked to the elders. But I got the impression that it was as frustrating as his conversations with me. Mindspeak would have been helpful, but none of the clerics were good at it. The few words I had learned were of no use. So I served as an extra for a short time, then nodded politely and went to the slowly returning children. Once fed, I was ready for more action, like throwing them as high as they dared.

Finally, Prince John came to fetch me. The other party members were still lying in the shade of the tree where the elders had talked to Brother Tsuwangli. The elders had left, and now the cleric brought us up to date. The capital of this region, called Wo'lua, was a little more than a day's travel along the river. That meant we were much further west than we had planned. It would be a considerable climb to cross the mountain range here. But everyone agreed that the horses needed more rest. That surprised me, I could keep going. I had found my gait, and the heavy legs were improving day by day. When I said something like that, they had the next objection: apart from the tired horses, there were no villages in the mountains. There might be animals to hunt, but only Prince John and the guard had bows. Finally, there would be no way to guide us, we would have to find our way through woods and alpine terrain. So the Prince concluded that we had only one choice. "We will go to Wo'lua. We could reach it by noon tomorrow if we leave now. Since it is the local capital, we might be able to have a diplomatic talk with their king."

Brother Tsuwangli nodded and continued. "Their king is called the Grand Wessir, after the god Wessir who founded their kingdom. And since we're travelling with a sheb'ets, sorry countess, an audience with him is a given. He will have scholars who speak Loma, if not Kwal or even Kren. But apart from meeting the Grand Wessir, going to Wo'lua will help us on our journey. A gorge cuts through the mountains from there. Moreover, the river is navigable by boat. So we can be on the other side of the mountains in three days. And well rested too.

Everyone agreed that this sounded very promising.

So we gathered the horses and thanked the elders for their hospitality. Even I could do that "Al glad'is troram." The elders bowed again.

As we left the village, the children waved in the local style, tilting their hands from side to side. The adults glanced in our direction, then went off to tend the fields in the late afternoon, now as the sun did not burn that fiercely anymore.

Despite six days of walking and the earlier talk of tired horses, we were moving fast. The path was in good condition and our excitement at reaching a real town and resting in it was palpable even to the horses. We passed through two more villages. But given the complications of having a sheb'ets among us, we hurried past.

We only stopped when it was too dark for the horses and camped halfway between two villages. I took advantage of the proximity of the river for a night bath, not minding the muddy smell of the water. I swam and played in the water under the stars. I wondered how Larina could cope with the stiff and rather warm uniform and not wash off the sand and insect bites.

We left early at sunrise and after passing two more villages, Wo'lua appeared in the distance.

* * *

Wo'lua was built into the sandstone cliffs on either side of a gorge where the river plunged in a great waterfall. White square houses with narrow slits for windows and flat roofs clung to the sandstone cliffs between the creeper and other greenery that clung to the cliffs. An impressive arched bridge connected the two sides. On the upper western cliff was the residence of the local ruler. It was surrounded by a low white wall with wide gaps in the parapet. Behind the wall were three large buildings topped with golden domes. From a distance, the palace was shiny, bright and beautiful. In comparison, Krenburg Castle looked like a utilitarian and hastily built structure. But first, we had to get into the town and then into the palace.

The entrance to the town was halfway up the cliff. A wide flight of steps led from the town gate to a wooden landing on the river, where our path ended. The steps were neither steep nor narrow, this would be no problem for me and even Larina could climb them. But normal horses were not trained for this. As we got closer, we saw stables built into the cliffs below the steps, and cranes to hoist the goods up and down. Of course, we were not the first travellers with horses or even a cart.

I stayed far behind in the shade of a rock to facilitate the negotiations in the stable. But even without me, things did not go smoothly. Anticipated was the problem with the money: We had gold. But to park a horse in a stable, you had to use copper or brass. The Republic's coins were not trusted here, as Brother Johens (the white cleric) later told me, even after scratching them to show that they really were solid brass.

Prince John returned on his stallion and explained. This, we divide our group. Larina, the guard, Brother Johens and Brother Rene (the other brown cleric) would wait here with the horses. Brother Tsuwangli, the Prince and I would go into town, including the prince’s stallion.

He dismounted and led his stallion up the stairs. The heavy horse followed without hesitation. I was impressed but wondered if he would climb down so easily.

Soon we were at the town gate. It had been closed during our ascent.

Brother Tsuwangli hesitated. He was clearly uncomfortable being in the lead, and as a cleric not used to insult and confrontation. And that was what closing the gate in front of travellers meant. But I was not amused and had no intention of letting them get away with it. I pounded the gate with my fists and shouted, "Yal'gal al glad'is. Sheb'ets 'is. Kiara twa'is", 'Greetings, this is a sheb'ets. My name is Kiara.' All learned from the children. And I surprised myself with how loud I could shout these new words.

"Wessir sad'is," shouted Brother Tsuwangli, meaning that we hoped to meet or speak with the Grand Wessir.

Behind the gate, there was the sound of frantic activity. Our arrival had probably already been escalated through the ranks. We still had to wait until someone with enough authority or backbone arrived.

It wasn’t long. The door slid aside to reveal an important-looking officer in a silver harness with a strangely shaped red cap, seated on a white horse with a red carpet saddle. Despite he being an officer, he looked like one in drag with the most pathetic battle armour possible, wearing a short-sleeved vest showing more midriff than even I in my skimpy jacket. It was completed by a shiny mini chainmail skirt and golden knee protectors. The two blue clerics standing by his side provided more authority. But they looked up to him. And a little further back, twenty less confident guards stood in two rows, ready for action, be it flight or fight.

"Yal'gal. Sheb'ets da'is," the officer in drag said bluntly - 'Hello, you are not a Sheb'ets.' Looking left and right at the clerics at his side for reassurance.

"Rar'is," I confirmed, glad not to have to go through this charade again. Thus, I dropped to the ground, local style, hands and forepaws palms up, head resting on the palms. "Yal'gal al glad'is." And I introduced myself again, "Kiara of Earth and Litra twa'is".

The prince and the brother also bowed, their heads on the palms of their hands.

The officer had not expected this. He stood there, hesitated, then dismounted and dropped to his knees, palms up. "Yal'gal al glad'is. Turag al Jtarek'ets twa'is."

Now Brother Tsuwangli took over, luckily as I had exhausted my vocabulary unless we would play Hide-the-Chisel next. "Yal'gal al glad'is, Tsuwangli twa'is," the brother said, stammering introducing the prince and me properly.

The officer responded with a few words in a slightly different language. The brother's face lit up and he spoke quickly. You could follow Turag al Jtarek'ets' eyes to find out which of us Brother Tsuwangli was now properly introducing.

More importantly, the guards relaxed.

Brother Tsuwangli gave a short report. "He is Marshal Jtarek. He speaks Loma. I think we can see the Grand Wessir, at least we will be led to the palace. Our status is still unclear."

I bowed again, "Al glad'is troram" - thank you. Well, and smiling that I could very well.

* * *

Now, just before midday, almost no one was outside. Still, five guards walked ahead of us to clear the way, and another five followed behind. At first it did not look like we were going in any particular direction. Maybe it was to confuse us, maybe it was to avoid stairs for the stallion's sake and mine. There were still the occasional short steps up and down, and sometimes it was too narrow for the two of us to walk side by side. But the brave animal followed the prince willingly.

We passed small waterfalls that either cascaded into or came out of stone pools. This town literally had water running through its streets, so the ground was clean. With all this water, there were lots of plants growing on the rocks and even on the houses on the sides facing the rocks. The outward side facing the gorge had white walls and barren surfaces, only small patches of green defied the sun, such a striking contrast, separated by a few steps.

And the town was built vertically, climbing the cliffs. Every few metres, narrow, steep staircases or even ladders led up or down. Compared to them, our way was indeed a thoroughfare. And we were noticed. More than once I saw children at the top of a ladder or peering down a steep staircase to see us pass. When spotted, they would run away giggling, probably in search of their next vantage point.

The houses had curtains instead of doors, and windows made of diagonally crossed beams that did not allow one to peek but let the air flow through.

Wo'lua was not very big. We had passed less than fifty houses before the road widened and we reached a small square in front of the bridge. The stone surface was slippery from the spray of the huge waterfall, where the entire river plunged with a thunderous roar into a white swirling pool deep below us. We stopped on the other side in another square. The marshal was gathering the guards and giving them instructions. Even if we could understand the language, their words were drowned out by the roar of the water for anyone not directly close to them.

The guards formed a barrier while their marshal went to the cliffs. He returned with a woman who made me feel overdressed even in my skimpy jacket. The marshal pointed at me, then at her. I walked to her until I was two steps away and then did the full greeting, kneeling (for lack of a better word) with my palms up. She just bowed a little. "Good morning," she said in Kren with a heavy accent. "You are Countess Kiara?"

"Yes, Countess Kiara of Earth and Litra." I stood up and smiled.

"I am Queen Hratl'its."

Wow, if the queens here always looked like that, the Wo'lua monarchy would be popular for a long time to come.

"Please coming." The false conjugation gave me hope. It seemed that her command of Kren was not much better than mine. In this case, my simple sentences could be seen as polite rather than offensive.