Angel of Storms (Millennium’s Rule, #2)

The road led to a gap in the wall barely larger than their wagon. As they trundled through Rielle caught a glimpse of a mechanism of some sort on the inner side of the wall. Chains led up, perhaps to some kind of door suspended above the entrance.

Ahead was a fa?ade half as tall as the wall, yet high enough for three rows of mean, narrow windows. It had been painted a glossy black. The courtyard between was ringed with iron lanterns stained with rust. People were rushing about, carrying burdens in their arms or on their backs, or throwing items into carts. Clearing a space for the Travellers, she guessed, resisting the temptation to seek an answer in their minds. The overall mood the fa?ade and the atmosphere of haste produced was grim and unwelcoming, and as the wagons rolled into a circle within the courtyard a reluctance to venture outside grew within her. Then voices attracted her attention, and as she looked out of the window now facing the building she blinked in surprise and disbelief.

A stream of brightly garbed, smiling men and women were emerging, exclaiming loudly in surprise and delight. The women’s sleeves were so billowy and long their hands were lost in the folds, and they held up their skirts to stop them dragging. The men wore broad belts over long shirts that fell to their knees, then trousers so wide they might as well have been skirts. If they aren’t actually skirts, Rielle thought. Their leader, a man with plenty of grey in his hair and beard, approached with open arms.

The Travellers emerged from their wagons and gathered before the colourful locals. Following Ankari out, Rielle managed to leap down to the ground without Baluka’s assistance. She sensed his disappointment.

“Traveller Lejikh,” the grey-bearded man said, then launched into a long formal welcome that Baluka soon stopped listening to out of boredom, so Rielle only understood the first part of it.

Baluka glanced at her and smiled. I should warn you: don’t accept or give anything or you’ll get stuck in a cycle of gift-giving that you can’t end without being unforgivably rude. I mean it. Wars have started over as small a thing as a flower offered to a child. Even leaving Kezel doesn’t end it, as the exchange starts again when you come back. My grandfather had one going for over fifty cycles.

She frowned. How do you conduct business, then? Isn’t that the exchange of gifts?

Fortunately they regard trade differently. It has to involve the immediate transfer of goods, though. They must be exchanged at exactly the same time, starting and finishing together.

No keeping of accounts to be paid later? No credit?

He shook his head. If you are invited to dinner you must “take” the food. If anyone serves you it is seen as “giving”. If someone presses something into your hands don’t take hold of it. If they need to give you something they should stand there and hold it in a thoughtful way, so that you can take it off them without obligation.

It sounds very complicated.

It’s not once you get used to it. Ah, they’re done at last!

Most of the Travellers were moving forward now. A handful stayed behind. Guarding the wagons? The young mother and the more elderly of the older couples were among them, so perhaps they simply wanted rest. They had left the desert world after sundown, so this was effectively a second evening on top of the first. But I don’t feel tired, Rielle thought. I guess I did sleep for most of the day.

On the other side of the black doors of the fa?ade was a riot of colour. The walls and ceiling had been painted deep, rich shades of red, green, purple and blue, with patterns and crudely painted figures and scenes rendered in gold on top. The floor was a glossy black, but most of it was covered in thick, bright carpets. Many of these were as intricate as tapestries and she felt a frisson of delight as she realised they were all meant to look like the ground–littered with leaves and bugs and vines like in the forest, or grass and flowers and birds, and even water with little creatures swimming within.

I wish Master Grasch could see this! The thought came with a pang of sadness. Even if she had brought him here, his sight was all but gone now. Chances were she’d never see him again if she decided to settle somewhere new, whether in her world or not. The thought left her feeling lost and anxious, and she moved a little closer to Baluka. I feel so certain I can trust him. It must be because I have read his mind. If he were a bad person she was sure he would not be able to hide it.

They entered a huge hall, the carpet covered in representations of food. A bit obvious, this one. Odd wedge-shaped pillows were arranged neatly around the edges. A group of people were sitting on these and from among them rose a young man. He was introduced to Lejikh.

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