Another circle of wagons. Coming out in the open at least allowed them to gather together during the evenings. Now they camped with their wagons as protection against the ever present wind. During the evenings and early mornings, at least, they looked like a group rather than an infinite line of wagons struggling one by one to go on.

Arthur dismounted and walked into the circle of trampled snow and grass. Almost waist high and very brittle the grass was used instead of firewood.

It was time for his performance in the dark as it had been almost every evening since they started descending down the mountains.

The darkness was what disturbed him most. He didn't remember it being so dark when he sat with groups of tourists around campfires all those years ago. Then those groups hadn't been over three hundred wagons strong of course. Even if they split into thirty circles they were still over thirty humans trying to make room around each cooking fire, and Arthur, in his youth, had seldom led a group larger than ten and never one as large as twenty.

He smiled at Trai beside him. Escha and Gring were there as well. The trio followed him whenever he was about to go tale telling, but he couldn't complain. That was their reason for joining the caravan after all, and by now they had all more than proved their worth by saving lives during the blizzard.

A slight buzzing around his temples he was by now familiar with announced Gring employing her powers.

"So," he said, gazing at the wagons covered with cloth and hides to block out the wind that would otherwise have passed unhindered through the wheels, "shall it be Zeus, Odin or even Robin Hood taking the center of the stage tonight?"

"Such a choice is yours alone, master of wonders from times when honor and glory were still unsullied."

Arthur glanced at Trai. Gring's magic with languages could never fully be preparation enough for such a mode of speech. Damn, the dark skinned man talked that way even when he asked for a cup of water. Arthur wondered how they ever managed to get anything done in Khanati when they spent all that spare time expanding verbally about what they were going to do.

They walked around part of the circle and entered through the narrow opening downwind.

"Still, a suggestion. What kind of tale?" Arthur persisted.

"Whatever comes to your glorious mind. No recollection of yours could possibly be too small or insignificant to be worth listening to."

Arthur digested Trai's words but looked at Escha instead. Trai's follower glowed with pride. Apparently Trai had made a good answer.

"They need no tale. The need is of you," Gring said.

"How so?"

"It's cold for you halfmen out here. They want hope."

Arthur gave her an interested look. "Please elaborate!"

"What you say is less important than what you are. They need the taleweaver, or at least the knowledge that one is traveling among them."

"I take it you want one of my special performances."

"Yes. Otherwise I would not speak to you this way."

Arthur was silent. Again Gring had proved herself to be far more than an over sized monkey who could speak. He would honor her request and once again become Arthur Wallman, the greatest in holo casting the Terran Federation had seen in decades, if not centuries.

He walked into the flickering light of the fire.

That night Arthur once again journeyed into himself, crossed the border between the present and the could have been and led an army through a hostile nation, overcoming impossible odds and human fears, borrowing words from another weaver of tales over a thousand years dead. Alone he filled the night with wonder the way Shakespeare had needed an entire troupe to do. Arthur rode with that army, and glancing over his shoulders he saw in the faces of his loyal men the traders and soldiers of the caravan following him high in hope that he would lead them safely back to England.

That night, even though Arthur was unaware of it, the legend of a new taleweaver started to spread.

***

"And wing! Wing, I said, not spearhead."

Nakora sighed and rode to catch up with her soldiers. They got it wrong again.

"Wing, young Takarak, means you wait for those further back in the column when they break to form the line, or you shall be alone when you charge."

The soldier, more a boy than an adult shot her an irritated glance. Too young to accept a female commander she knew he still didn't dare to openly challenge her. Until married she was in all effects lord of the Weinak family. That legal status would vanish on her wedding night when the new lord took possession of her body as well as title. At the moment that was a minor problem.

Gods! Even mercenaries from Keen are better trained than we are.

She threw a longing gaze at Captain Laiden's troops as they routed her flanks in the mock battle.

Both sides returned to their starting positions and she had more time than she wanted to mull over her precarious command. A nagging suspicion started to take its toll of her, had for eightdays now. Would her soldiers follow her lead if the disciplined mercenaries from Keen didn't show her their respect as openly as they did?

Maybe she ought to get married after all. That left the awkward question of a suitable husband. Lord Garak? Nakora smiled. Clan lord Garak from Khi would definitely be a suitable choice, but by now she was certain he wasn't Clan lord Garak at all. A younger son perhaps. Lord, though, he was, of one kind or another, and he still held a certain attraction. That thought made her blush slightly, but met with her approval nonetheless. It made her more moral somehow. Her wants, not merely something suitable.

Is that really what I want?

She blushed again.

***

The day was cold. Not the windy hell they'd encountered in the mountains but a brisk, quiet cold he remembered from childhood. Arthur saw his breath rising in small clouds when he exhaled. Almost like one of those glorious winters from home, but here there wasn't anyone to call if he got lost. This wasn't a cold he could chose for a weeks travel, safe in his knowledge that someone would come to his rescue if an accident happened. Memories of his failure during the blizzard still clung to him and hurt, but as with memories of his family they were no longer raw, and a long talk with Harbend and Gring had eased the worst of his shame.

He sniffed, almost like Gring. A gust of cold wind crawled inside his coat and made him shiver. It played with his hair, seeped into his nostrils and teased him into a sneeze. He looked up just in time to meet Chaijrild's disapproving glare. She was still avoiding Harbend and made a show of seeking Arthur's company as often as possible. He'd even tried to talk with her mother, but that attempt only met with rough laughter. The matron told him in no uncertain terms that if he had any problems with the girl he'd better bring them up with her directly.

"... day here. The ... makes me remember when I was a child," Chaijrild said, breaking his thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I didn't understand it all."

"Beautiful day. ... brings ... back to me."

He realized she had tried to rephrase her earlier sentence.

"One word I can't understand. The, eh, liat?"

She gave him a bewildered look. Then she dismounted and gathered snow in her hands. He pointed at the whiteness around them and she nodded. So, liat was snow. He barely had time to finish the thought before a ball of it caught him full in the face. He shook off the stinging cold.

"You bloody little wench. I'll teach you about snowballing!"

She stared at him, an expression filled with incomprehension spreading over her face, and he realized he'd spoken in English. He dismounted and slowly explained in De Vhatic while at the same time squeezing a ball of snow in his hands. She giggled and ran away shrieking in delight when he threw it at her. Some things were the same on both worlds he mused as he mounted his horse again.

He was about to give her chase when he heard voices calling. Nakora Weinak, the commander of the escort from Ri Khi, was riding towards him at full gallop, Gring running beside her horse, matching its speed without any visible strain. What could be important enough to risk both horse and rider in snow covering anything that could trap them both? He watched them coming closer and blinked away the stinging light of the sun reflected in the snow.

They were between the vanguard and the long column of wagons. A day earlier he'd ridden the entire stretch along the caravan. Close to ten kilometers, an undertaking of a magnitude he could never have guessed that day in late summer when Harbend told him about his planned enterprise.

The escort seemed insufficient to protect the endless line vanishing behind the horizon if you rode at one end of it. He seemed insufficient as well.

His reputation as a taleweaver spread in the caravan, and he had to stay at a campfire each night to tell a tale or two before going to sleep. Still, less than half had been given a chance to hear him, and he somehow understood he needed to give them all an opportunity unless some of them should feel offended. Some would anyway. He'd heard rumors of dissatisfaction concerning some of the traders from Ri Khi.

Gring, Escha and Trai still followed him whenever he went to spin a tale, and even though it had been but once more that he had done what they called a Weave they followed him with dog-like loyalty. Of course he wouldn't be much use without Gring. It was, after all, her magic that allowed him to tell his tales. Arthur wondered what to tell this evening. Even though there was no lack of heroic tales he was still stunted by the need to come up with a new and fresh legend each night.

Once again he blinked away the sunshine from his eyes, and when a cold gust of wind tempted him to open them. Nakora and Gring were both almost there, and he felt the familiar tingling as Gring cast the spell crossing almost all borders set up by languages.

"Why such a hurry?" he called out, both as a question and a greeting.

"Tomorrow night, or the night after, we eat hot food and some may even feel the luxury of a warm bed." Nakora was grinning as she spoke.

Arthur favored her another glance. She was sweating around her temples despite the cold. It must have been a hard ride, but her glittering eyes told him she had enjoyed it. "Have you found a town large enough to host us all?" he asked.

"No, not that large. It will not happen until we reach Belgera at the end of our journey. However, we have found a town, and I guess it shall be a welcome rest for the caravan."

He thought about it. A bed, yes that would be good, but a bathhouse, now that would be fabulous. He wondered if the people here had such luxuries.

"You didn't see any lakes or a river close to the town?" he said, voicing his private thoughts in a question.

Gring gave him a glance. "No, we were too far away to see a river, and a lake would only look like more snow covered grass.

That made sense. He was used to winter, but he'd never ridden through open terrain like this with nothing but snow around him.

"There is something else as well. Gring thinks we saw a dragon pack in the distance," Nakora said.

Arthur shivered. "How bad is that?"

"I would not worry too much. There are large herds of horses on the plains, and gherins. Dragonlings usually hunt easier prey than humans."

"Gherin?"

Nakora pointed across the snow.

What the bloody hell is that? A dinosaur, glittering scales shining even at this distance, and as all other strange lizards they'd caught earlier, six-legged. Huge, easily the size of an elephant. "Dangerous?"

"If you stand in front of it, yes I guess. I have heard they breed them in Braka, but here it means food. Lots of food. Today we hunt."

Arthur was still not entirely convinced. "So you say that there's no danger?"

"I would not go that far. Always keep an eye open. Especially if you are alone."

Not a very comforting thought. "Should we ride in advance and join with the rest then?" Arthur asked.

Nakora gave him an amused look, and looking past her shoulder Arthur saw the rest of the vanguard approaching. He smiled back.

"I guess not."

***

Trai kicked snow from his feet. Melting it would have been faster, but he seemed to use his gift all day long in the wintry horror surrounding them. Horses and oxen needing easy grazing, starting fires for cooking and heating cold wagons. Sometimes mundane means were better, even if for no other reason than avoiding Escha's anger.

Care, it really was care. Trai knew the results of a backlash from his own experience, but the gift was like a fine wine, and he never got tired of feeling it coursing through his body. Escha, well Escha was always the careful one, never to use any when it was not needed. Unless when bringing a message down hard on those who needed to fear his might, like he had done when jumping them both inside the Roadhouse. It would be a year or more before any battle mages from Rhuin dared sleeping in their own barracks without two of them standing guard inside in addition to those patrolling the walls.

A pity none but Escha mastered the ability to jump safely into a building without guidance from someone on the inside. Well, they didn't know that in Rhuin.

The reason for his fierce pride came up from behind.

"Bad feelings running rampant," Escha said.

Trai searched for listeners but found none. "No lessons tonight then?"

"Afraid not. Tomorrow maybe."

Trai nodded.

"You know, I quite liked the courtly expressions Lord Wallman used the other night," Escha said as if reminded of their tale telling lessons."

"I guess so," Trai admitted sourly. "It's a bastard's work keeping appearances up, though," he continued, thinking about the real reason for his prolonged stay away from home.

"The need is absolute. We'll continue to learn from the tales for as long as Lord Wallman will have us. There's no better teacher than a Weave with kings and courtiers."

Trai grimaced. "I'll start vomiting on my own words soon. I'd hoped for a tale well told before returning home, not a season freezing my butt off in the wilderness becoming one."

Escha laughed and hugged him. "I love you, master of mine, but you need to be seen as nothing but a pleasure seeker."

"I still hate it. Why can't I just take my position among the dukes and be done with it?"

"Master, please," Escha pleaded. "I didn't dig up the sun storm gift. You did. Now you have the powers to reduce an entire city to cinders."

Trai's eyes widened. He rapidly made the calculations in his head. The result disgusted him.

An entire city? Unholy gods, dear Escha, you're wrong, my love. I could wipe all of Ira from living memory. "I'd never..."

"I know that, and you know that. Our neighbors don't. Be patient. Ten years or less and the gift of reduction will be common enough knowledge to release you from the needs of this charade."

Trai waited for the patient lecturing to continue. It was schooling of another kind, and somewhere deep inside he admitted he wasn't exactly a master of politics.

"Enough Khars must learn how to disable the casting of sun storms. That disgusting gift should never have been rediscovered in the first place. Please play the petty lordling and keep everyone in the belief that the only glowing suns you're interested in are the jewels on your costumes."

"I still don't like being laughed at behind my back," Trai sulked.

"You'd better learn to savor that feeling. We don't want Dragonwrath all over again. Once that gift is used..." Escha shuddered. "More could master it. I don't doubt for a moment Khars from Rhuin could reduce Khanati to ashes should the wars ever escalate to the point where we no longer restrain our use of the gift in battle to insignificant battle mages." Escha's voice went softer. "At least we're in this together."

"At least that, my love," Trai murmured.

"And Lord Wallman's tales are well worth sharing," Escha added.

"They are," Trai agreed, "and he kept our hopes up," he said, remembering how winter had closed its hand around their hearts after claiming the lives of the unlucky and careless. He would play his part, and who knew, maybe one day he would master the art of tale telling himself -- a taleweaver he would never be.

The sound of horses closing in on them made him let go of Escha. Time again to prove he was learning well. Trai turned and bowed low enough for his sleeves to sweep the ground.

"What brings you here Lord Captain. I'm honored by your arrival on such a kingly steed, a magnificent beast well befitting a lady of your station."

Captain Weinak bowed ironically in her saddle. "Just patrolling, Lord Achnai."

She passed him with her men in tow. He suspected most didn't understand the Veric he had used, but some sneered at him nonetheless.

***

The meeting was a shambles, but at least Arthur got to know he had the two mages to thank for more than he'd realized. A few angry exchanged outbursts from the men assembled were enough for him to realize that without them they would have buried even more people after the blizzard in the mountains. Trai had apparently almost spent himself utterly by warming those rescued before cold blood from arms and legs could stream to the center of their bodies and kill them after they were brought back to camp. Over a dozen lives were saved that way.

The meeting, though, was still a shambles.

They stood in the open, a large ground of stamped snow ringed by wagons to provide shelter from the wind. Although the shouting had gone on for some time now people still arrived to take part in it. They wore more sensible clothes now than they had when departing from the Roadhouse. Heavy cloaks and coats, some furs and thick leather jackets. Almost all were gloved and most of them also covered their heads in one way or another. The mages from Khanati were the only ones walking around in silks only, but Arthur knew they donned heavier clothes when out of eyesight. Some stupid display of appearance and arrogance, but that was not his business.

One greybeard, in his early fifties as far as Arthur could measure, walked to the center to get attention.

"I say we turn around and end this stupid mission." His bearded face was immediately surrounded by a cloud of his breath, settling to add some more icy crystals to his beard and hair. "I say we return home before more of us die."

The rumors of dissatisfaction were true after all, Arthur registered with a sigh.

"And I say we don't." The retort came from Arthur's right, and he turned to see who had spoken.

"Why not?" This time from his left. He gave up finding out who said what and concentrated on trying to understand in what direction the arguments would eventually turn.

"No one promised us it was going to be easy. No one." It was the same voice Arthur had tried to find earlier, and this time a woman stepped out in the circle to be seen. "The mighty Khars are here to help us, and with their help this is as easy as it's ever going to be."

"Their help? Dandies from Khanati both of them."

"What about it? My wife would be dead if Khar Escha had not jumped her to Ri Nachi." The voice was filled with emotions, most spelling gratitude and awe.

"Khar Escha! Bah! As long as fagot Achnai finds his pleasure with this journey he shall order his little boy slave to do anything that will buy our sympathy."

"You ungrateful son of a whore! That slave is the only reason you are able to stand here today and voice your filth."

Arthur searched for his companions. He was worried Trai might do something horrible, and one question needed an answer. Slave? Could that really be true? Across the circle Escha met his eyes, but instead of displaying any rage he patted his temples with both hands and looked skywards with outstretched arms in a show of great melodrama Arthur had come to recognize as a part of gestures usual to the men from Khanati. It still helped Arthur to know the insults meant less than nothing to them. But, slaves? The concept was abhorrent to Arthur, and he was surprised all the same he hadn't considered the possibility. After all, slavery hadn't been abolished on Earth since after his ancestors had advanced far beyond the people here.

A roar caught his attention.

"Go home coward! Go home but go alone and don't shame the rest of us!"

"You dare to call me coward? You, a filthy bitch who fail to keep silent among men?"

"Yes, I do. I'm not afraid as your excuse for wives are. I'm proud of my husband, and he can be proud of me. We don't use marriage as a substitute for slavery in Erkateren!"

"Dirty whore! Do not call my wife a slave! She is a proper woman, not a loudmouthed piece of filth like you!"

Arthur walked away in disgust. They were not making any progress, and the insults had reached a level where he didn't even want to listen to them any longer. There wasn't a semblance of interest in talking about the matter at hand now, and with so many people armed here he didn't want to witness any fights arising if they decided insults weren't enough. They were all primitive. Primitive in their minds rather than lacking technology.

Damn them all! Damn you to whatever hell you believed in.

He angrily broke snow under his feet as he tried to find anyone who made sense, but the only member of the caravan he truly trusted to behave like a civilized human walked at his side and was an ape looking like a monster considering herself the only human present. At the moment he was bound to agree.

***

Arthur looked up from the fire as Harbend arrived. The man looked grimly satisfied. At least something good must have come out of the meeting earlier.

"And?" Arthur asked before Harbend had a chance to sit down.

"We continue tomorrow. We are going to visit the town the scouts found."

Arthur slowly sighed with relief. So they'd managed to come to a constructive conclusion after all.

"And all are happy?" he asked more as a joke than anything else.

"Of course not, but everyone continuing has promised to work for the same goal."

"Then I guess some are returning."

"No, no one shall return. We came to an agreement on that as well. A bit costly, but we decided we could not have anyone undermining the positions of the remainders."

Arthur nodded. Some politicking he could understand.

"Then I guess the ones forced to continue will make little noise from now on?"

Harbend shrugged uncomfortably rather than replying, and Arthur gave him a quizzical glance. When Harbend refused to answer the silent question Arthur frowned and voiced it. "And? How are you going to keep them from making trouble in the future?"

"It has been taken care of." Harbend rose and left the dancing circle of light. Arthur started to get to his feet but changed his mind and sat down again. He looked at Gring, but she said nothing. They sat in silence until long wails in the distance forced Arthur to his feet. The cries were almost inhuman, almost. He made for the darkness but a heavy hand on his shoulder forced him to turn.

"Sit!" Gring hissed.

"But, don't you hear?"

"Yes, I hear. Better than you do. Three of your kind and six dragonlings."

"But what's happening?" Arthur tried to pry himself free, but Gring's grip was too strong.

"Master Garak promised you that the problems had been taken care of. For an oath breaker he is strangely honorable."

Somehow Arthur knew what was going on, but his mind denied it, and he refused to believe it could happen, refused to believe it was happening right now, but from the darkness the wails of fear, pain and desperation continued until they subsided into a silence possibly even more ghastly.