The warriors nearby erupted into laughter: this Tsurani not only spoke passable Thuril, he could insult with style.
The red-headed warrior didn’t know whether to laugh or take umbrage, but before he could make up his mind, Pug said, ‘Be a welcoming host and ask the Kaliane if she will listen to the words of Milamber of the Assembly, once husband to a Thuril woman, Katala.’
The room fell silent. An old man sitting in the corner stood up and walked over to Pug. ‘How can that be? You are a young man, and Katala was a kinswoman of mine, dead before I was born. The story is told of her having wed a Black Robe.’
‘I am that man,’ said Pug. ‘I am long lived, I remain as you see me, and was then as I am now when I was wed to her. She was my wife, and mother of my first born son, and I still grieve for her.’
The old man turned to one of the younger warriors and said, ‘Go to the Kaliane, and tell her a man of importance has come from the Tsurani lands, to speak to her and the Council. He has a claim of kinship. I will vouch it is true.’
The young warrior nodded in deference to the old man, who sat down beside Pug. ‘Milamber of the Assembly, I would hear the tale of you and my kinswoman.’
Pug sighed, for these were memories he rarely visited. ‘When I was little more than a boy the Tsurani invaded my homeland and I was taken as slave, for the great house of the Shinzawai. It was there I met Katala of the Thuril, sold into slavery by border raiders. We met one day…’ He told the story slowly and plainly, and soon it was clear that the memories were as vivid to him now as they had been years before, and the images of his first wife were undimmed by the passage of time.
When he had finished, warriors wept at the tale of their parting, for the proud warriors of the Thuril felt no shame in showing strong emotions. The room fell silent as the messenger returned and said, ‘The Kaliane bids you come and makes you welcome to the Council, Milamber of the Assembly.’
Pug rose and walked out of the inn. He followed his guide to the top of the trail, which opened into a large meadow, dotted with hide tents, erected for the meeting of the Council. The meadow was home to natural warm springs, which in the night sent up plumes of steam and gave off a faintly metallic odour.
Night birds sang and Pug was reminded that as alien as Kelewan had been to him when he had first come here as a Tsurani captive, he had come to think of it as home for the better part of eight years. He had met his wife here and fathered his first-born, and this is where she had returned to die of an illness no priest or chirurgeon could cure.
As he was led through the sprawling community of huts, he finally found himself before an ancient longhouse. He knew enough of Thuril tradition to realize that this longhouse had been here for decades, perhaps a century, as a place where elders might come to council and seek the calming influence of the warm springs.
Once inside the long hall, Pug saw over forty Thuril leaders waiting for him, and in the centre an imposing woman of advancing years with long iron-grey hair tied in two braids. She wore a simple dress of dark red cloth, but over that a torc of beaten copper, set with precious gems. The others, both men and women, wore traditional headgear of feathers and quills, and shirts, trousers, kilts, and dresses of wool and homespun. The air in the room was thick with smoke from the large fire in a stone-lined pit in the centre of the room, and from torches on the walls.
‘Welcome, Milamber of the Assembly,’ said an old chieftain sitting to the right of the Kaliane. ‘I am Wahopa, chieftain of the Flint Ridge people. It is my honour to host this year’s Council. I bid you welcome.’
The woman to his left said, ‘I am the Kaliane. You wished to speak to us?’
Pug said, ‘Yes. I bring words of warning, and hope.’ He began slowly. These were not a stupid people, but he was explaining concepts difficult for a magician to grasp, let alone a warrior of the highlands. But they listened without interruption, and when he finished he added, ‘Safe passage will be provided to as many of your nation as can be made to muster here within the week. Bring your livestock and chattels, weapons and tools, for it is a new world opening, one that will demand much, but will give much in return.’
‘Tell us of this new world, Milamber,’ said the Kaliane.
‘It is a fair place, with vast plains of grass, deep lakes and rolling oceans. There are mountains that touch the sky and great highland valleys where herds can run free. It is a land abundant in game and fish, and more, and there is no one living there.’
‘But you are Tsurani, and your people go there. Why would you offer to share it with your enemies?’ asked a chief from the second row. His tone was suspicious.