The Nine and the Five

“There weren't always Dragons in the Valley,” I heard a man say in a drunken way.

“Shut yer trap,” the man's companion hissed as he leaned over and slapped the other about the mouth, “Ye'll get us thrown away!”

I passed their table on the way to dinner of roast pork and potatoes beckoning to me at the Dusty Drink Tavern; a huge affair, with a sign outside saying, “Giants Be Welcome – mind the little people!” I was in the town of Old Haltheim, in the Valley. Speaking of Dragons was illegal, due to perceived cultist aspectsin the Valley. I stumbled over an apple on the floor as I bent my head the men's way, righted myself, and continued. It didn't seem prudent to butt in on two drunks slapping one another around.

The Dusty Drink was busy and I was last to sit at table, pardoning and questioning and finally, slipping my pack beneath the bench, finding a small space between a woman to my left who introduced herself as Amanda of White, and to my right a dark, alert man with a handsome face, and long brown hair dirty from the road, who nodded as he slid over. Across sat a Giant. The Giant and the man conversed, the Giant leaning his head sideways, his ear looking like it could swallow the man's head whole, the man looking far up, though speaking softly. I could hear little in the hubbub, but the Giant nodded as the fellow spoke. I thought those great ears would catch the sound of a mouse settling for the night. A tavern boy brought me chops. I wolfed at them, and it was good. Amanda snorted as I shovelled, so I turned to her and said, “What?”

She gazed at me from the deepest green eyes I'd ever seen, and said, “You're splashing food here and there.”

“Such a waste!” I cried as I continued to eat, and she laughed as I dug in with even more gusto.

The Valley wasn't just a valley, except where the town was, it was a country that disgorged itself from either ends of the deep cleft in the mountains where the city lay all tight, with large homes above, and a warren below shoved against hills restraining a broad river. The Valley spread odoriferous smoke onto plains at one end and rising crags on the other. People scurried about, and everything was aimed for profit. Your wallet's coin could disappear in an instant from inattention to discipline, so many were the offerings. One kind of anything wasn't enough, there were dozens, and so with everything. Adherence to profit paid off as they hoped, for coin was in their pockets, and stallions were tied to posts in this part of the city given to beds and drink, and all that came with that, though their faces were heavy, their smiles few, their greetings in the lanes in passing, non-existent. Happiness had no room where profit ruled. The misery of those in such thrall came to my senses as the raw stink of gangrenous greed, corroding competition, and terrible trauma. They burned incense at every opportunity from any sconce in whole or shattered walls to cover the stench of the souls retreat before profit.

I would never come to the Valley on my own urging, indeed, rumors of a Dragon had sent me on my first solo investigation, with instruction to discover if the Dragon was real, and report that fact back promptly. If Dragons stirred, it meant something! An easy task, I'd thought, when I'd headed out. Of course Dragons weren't real! I'd never seen one! But my shoes were wearing through, my cloak was thinner too, my staff was nicked and dirty from seeking the answer, and I longed for home.

I mulled the men's words as I drank deliciously warm beer, burping often, which helped my thinking, and wondered at the bearing their words had on my search. I'd been taught, and come to know, that random facts or thoughts, odd meetings, co-incidences and chance overhears had purpose within the scheme of the world as constructed by All That Is, and specifically built for that One by the Entities, who made everything in an instantaneous ways so all was always new, though often with the appearance of old, and men and the very ground they walked on were their mysterious constructions too. The Entities were elusive as Dragons, in this world. I found them when I dreamed, or quieted my mind to nothing, to look deep within my inner self, and there, rest in their kind of care.

I took my investigation seriously, so wanted to ask questions of the men about Dragons: how many, what they did, where they lived, how to meet them, and many others that bothered my mind. Indeed, I'd come following clues and gossip, and the general consensus was; Dragons were gone, but if they weren't, they'd be in the Valley. “Why?” I'd asked.

“Dragons,” folk answered, “Live for profit!”

I sniffed and felt there was watching going on in the Dusty Drink. I was about to test this sense by reaching into it, when the Giant cried, “Do? Do?” and he laughed. “We do whatever we want!” He addressed himself to Amanda. I turned my head sharply at this utterance coming so quick after my recent wondering about what Dragons did. The Giant caught the motion, to stare down at me as I stared up at him. His clothes seemed to move, but only on the edge of my vision. When I focused on his lapel, his shirt, his coat, nothing stirred. He returned his gaze to Amanda and said, “Do you want proof lass?”

Amanda laughed and said, “Sir, I believe one as large as you speaks the truth,” which caused the Giant to laugh with her.

He turned his look to me, to stare again. His eyes grew to the size of plates so I saw he had a way of looking, and I drew back. He leaned towards me so his face grew fast, his hazel eyes like pools into infinity, his breath fair, his teeth strong.“Stranger!” he asked quietly, “Your gaze be sharp. Where be you from?”

“A land far away,” I replied.

“Well, what's it's name?” Amanda asked.

I looked at her, wondering if the Giant and she were together. But she seemed cut from some different cloth in dress and accent, and possessed some elegance under her own dusty attire. I was about to say I was from Courtnay, which abutted my homeland, and I'd spent enough moons in Courtnay, indeed my accent was good, but I'm really from Hinder House, my true land. But Hinder Housians, especially Sethians, weren't always welcome in places such as the Valley, for we valued Right above all, and there was conflict there, with profit. But the Giant and the lass had the look of truth about them and I determined to reply in kind. A man had to know when to bend reality, and I'd come up empty in my search for these mythical creatures my Masters sent me to find, so I said, “If you'll be quiet about it, I'll tell you,” and when they nodded so, I looked at the dark fellow who too leaned in so our three small heads were near to touching, and he nodded at the Giant, to say, “I'm with him.” The Giant stayed aloft, but turned his ear, and I said quiet enough, “I'm from Hinder House.” The Giant laughed. Amanda's eyes grew wide for a moment, and the dark fellow frowned.

“I see,” he said. The bow across his back shifted lower as he leaned back. “You ever drink at the Elves Ears?”

He was testing me, like folk test everyone as they guess at who's truthful, who the liar. “And eaten their snake pie,” I replied, to which he laughed.

“Best in the land!” he replied.

“Snake pie?” Amanda said. “That's not right!”

“That's the Elves Ear,” I sidas I leaned her way and quietly sniffed one tiny inhale, to get the low of her land. She smelt of fish and soap and the sweat of a good day, without a hint of fumes of the disquiet that wafted from drinkers and eaters local to these parts.

“What're you doing here?” Amanda asked, and they listened around their stews, chops, and chickens with gravy.

“Exploring,” I said, “Looking for Right, and Quality. Are you it?” I asked, feeling flirtatious.

She gazed at me and smiled. Her eyes were as mountain moss, her skin fair, her teeth white and straight. “You never know," she said. "I'm Amanda of White from Comocks.” The name rang a bell I could not tune.

“Garth ne Kellinin,” I replied and touched my chin in a mark of respect. She returned the favor and we smiled.

“Garth ne Kellinin,” the sword man cried, “I'm Samuel the Fletcher, from the fair land of Seashelt. Perhaps you've heard of me?” He said it as though it was given everyone knew Samuel the Fletcher, from Seashelt.

“I've heard of you now,” I replied. “And will gladly hear more.”

We four chatted wellas we ate and drank. My new friends had the wise look of the truthful, and I'd learned my lessons well in Hinder House about that subject too, where we strove to create reality to the ways of All That Is; perfect, changing, truth.

“Waiter,” the Giant cried, “A round of beer for these three whom I rather like, though no one can tell me why, and for me, a cask!” He glared at me sideways in a most humorous fashion, “No, I don't know yet why I like you, but I will. Beer,” he called so the rafters echoed and people fell quiet for a moment to gaze at the fellow towering above all even as he sat. “We'll tell our tales and sniff them for verity, or lies!” He leaned towards me and the table creaked as he extended one digit of his huge hand, “Boron's me name,” he thundered so everyone surely had it written down, “And truth's me game.” We touched tips. I figured he was from the north country of Mountain Home, which was not the only country of Giants. Those from Cave Home slapped hands with each other in greeting. It could be painful to smaller folks. Those of Airie Home blew fragrant breathes at one another upon meeting, which huffing wind could knock men over if the Giant was enthusiastic.

“Pleased to hear your truth,” I said, as was common in his land.

“Tell us the quality you seek.”

“The Quality; presence or lack, within each and all,” I said.

`”Aye! That's the stuff,” he rumbled. “What else?”

“Sentiment for sentiment,” I replied. “What do you in these lands?” But the waitress arrived with our cups, her helpers with his keg, and the question was forgotten while we toasted new friends.

“Yonder beauty, Amanda,” Boron said, “Why be you in the Valley?”

“I like you,” she said, “Not for your platitudes, but for Giants' reputation for truths, which make your platitudes carry a fine ring.” She said this loudly, then leaned towards the center of the table so we three leaned in, the Giant stayed aloft, but turned his ear, to hear her soft voice say, “Can I trust you to hold confidence?”

We each nodded agreement and I soundlessly muttered a word that sounded like guwela, but wasn't, and sound was contained. The Giant looked at me sharply. That one knows, I thought.

“I seek Dragons.” She looked at each closely, her gaze fierce, her words a challenge.

“We're in strange company tonight Samuel,” Boron said to his mate. “Why?” he whispered to Amanda, and the sound strangely came from his belly, which was much closer to our ears than his mouth.

She gave her head a shake, and I could see truth retreat as she said, “Just curious.”

“Well,” I said to our joined heads, and seeing a need for discretion, “Amanda seeks what she seeks, and that's good enough.” I wanted the same as she, but held my peace.

“I've said too much,” she replied. “Damn beer!” But it wasn't beer, for I'd caught the ever so subtle scent of right-spice. I immediately tightened my mental control, or the spice would make me spill my secrets. The unwary would tell their deepest under the sway of right-spice, and without a hint of who the listener was. Someone was after secrets!

“And we can't forget such an interesting idea,” Boron said so low only the dust vibrated from his timbre. “Giants and Dragons know one another from long past. Perhaps we can make common cause?” Amanda looked thoughtful. “But come,” Boron said, and glanced about, then drew his great body back so a breeze full of smoke and smell rushed in to fill the space he vacated, “Tonight, we dance!”

Indeed the men and women at another table had broken out lutes, lyres, whistlers and bangers, and began to play tunes for the times. Amanda smiled at Boron, glad of the change of topic, and stood. Her clothes straightened themselves to her form revealing a woman of height and strength and as the firelight struck her strong, fierce face and shone off her golden hair, she was lovely, and we had no trouble following her with our eyes. “Dance with me!” she cried, so Samuel and I began to rise, but she held her hand for the Giant, who rose with an easy grace, and careful not to bash the timbers of the ceiling with his head, he went with her to the floor. There was no room for another pair there and I, along with others, watched her lithe form sway and swing beneath and between Boron's thick legs as the floor creaked and he showed style for one whose head brushed the ceiling tiles clean, and feet caused the timbers below to bend.

She wants to find Dragons! I thought. I'd join her in that adventure!

I sniffed the air as everyone watched the pair, for there was much to learn when men and women's thoughts strayed away from their secrets. There was a certain scent that rose from anyone who watched, and I'd know who from the odor flung from themselves. Hinder Housians called Sethies, had skills, derived from combining the five outer senses with the mind's nine inner senses. Indeed, the vague smell of watchers was like sour cabbage in the perfumed air of the Dusty Drink, yet everyone in the Valley gave off that raw odor. They all watched! Such were the ways in the land of profit. But I honed in. There!

The fellow in the corner booth with the lowered cowl about his head who peered from behind his mug at travelers, and laborers come in for a drink before going home. His eyes glittered. He'd be paid to watch, and report. Never turn your back on such, my Teachers taught when I was young and learning the Material. I turned my head until the scent strengthened, though still weak and hard to place with the dancers swirling air and smoke and spice together, but there! Two great and burly fellows, with a sturdy lass too, and all of huge arms and solid legs looking like hired muscle, with perhaps the woman the lead, the two the weight, drinking, and watching with keen interest all about. These were hunters on some trail, I thought, and better not to cross my path with theirs. No others offended my senses in any considerable degree, except the tavern's bouncers, who watched in a general way required to keep the tavern's peace. I'd watch the watchers then, but I wouldn't reveal my deeds in pheromones derived of thought on my body. That I controlled. I slowly made my way through the crowds gathered about the dancers so I was for an instant by the three's table, and I sniffed. “Got you now,” I thought as I moved away, yet I also felt the lady's eyes on my back.

I left the singing and dancing to go to the glow house and empty myself of drink. I sat above the hole doing my business onto glow worms below that relished my rainfall and fed on my offal as they eliminated all stink so the air around glow worms was always sweet and fresh. I felt the soft approach of Giant feet. Boron comes! I hurried to get off the pot, for when a Giant evacuated, I assumed the blow-back could be fierce, at least judging from his sneezes. His stall was right by mine and the faintly glowing pits below were no doubt linked to aid the glowworms' travels. He had a suitably large stall for himself, which I was near to, and I heard a quiet whisper, like a voice within my mind, and was surprised Boron knew of such ways of communication! “Garth of Hinder House,” Boron said, “Stay a moment.”

“Alright,” I answered in the same fashion, which required a certain mental discretion, along with the skill of the ventriloquist. I left the stall and slipped to stand by a tree to wait. Boron exited his stall with some difficulty, his mighty shoulders catching the huge door's frame, his head ducking under the tall lintel, and his boot clad feet sending small splinters off the door's threshold, though he approached me as silent as any fly circling in for a bit of meat. “What is it friend?” I asked, even as I sniffed, catching the odour of amusement and caution from Boron.

“Yon Amanda is a fine dancer,” he said, “And a woman of good heart who has told me of her interests here. I thought to myself, I wonder if they coincide with yours, for they do with mine, and perhaps we can make common cause of a most difficult task.”

“What task,” I asked quietly. What could he know of my quest? Nothing that I knew of.

“I asked myself what would such, perhaps even a Sethie, be doing in the Valley? I saw your interest in her declaration of,” and he looked rapt, then mouthed the word, “Dragon.”

I was surprised he'd spied me out. There was nothing to say but, “And what's your interest?”

“I like you,” he said. “I like the set of the weapons on your side, and the way you heft that curious staff you carry, and never let go, I notice, and I like the way you talk. You're young, but quiet, and have discretion. And I think, you being Hinder Housian, you know the Material. I'm probably wrong on all counts,” and he chuckled a deep rumble like far off thunder. “But I'm going to tell you my interest.”

“I'm listening,” I said.

“Which tells me much,” he replied, “For that skill's lost in the whirling pace of these Valley folk,” and his voice had a touch of sorrow. “Now in my land, we believe in Dragons,” and again he soundlessly mouthed the word, “As indispensable to the creation of the world itself. It seems, from words heard from trusted mouths, one's in peril, approaching her end perhaps, or somehow restricted in her creation, and we surely see chaos replacing order. These Valley folk beat drums of conflict ever louder. Their rulers have all, yet never enough, perhaps, and, they lie about everything! Still, we've felt her faint call, though causing confusion as to its veracity. I seek the truth of her, and think you've heard, and seek the same. Now since I like you, though I'll never know why, but perhaps it's because you're so small! I want your thoughts on this. Will you answer?” He peered at me from great golden eyes, his large face lined with experience and dented with hardships overcome, and near as big as my own self. His breath was fair, if beery, and he held himself steady, without a tremble as he waited my answer. As I considered, a pink night warbler sang a chorus from some song it knew as it flew about a patch of glow worms strung in a ball near the man-sized door to the Dusty Drink.

I was about to answer when the man with the cowl exited the tavern, headed for the glow pots. I held my finger up cautioning silence, and sidestepped into black shadows. Boron did something I'd never seen before. He disappeared! No, somehow he made the background and himself of the same shade and color so he seemed made of dark trees and deep shadows. The man swung his head left and right as he glided across the darkened ground, seeking, then with a backwards glance directly in our direction, though he seemed to see nothing, and his hand on the hilt of his weapon, he entered the glow house. I motioned to the Giant I would return to the tavern, for we'd been gone long, and shifty eyes had noticed. Boron nodded and motioned he'd follow in a few moments. It seemed our ability to communicate was good! As I passed I tapped my chest, pointed at Boron, and crossed two fingers together. He smiled, though it could have been tree branches swaying in a breathless breeze.

In the tavern the air was thicker, with the dusty smell of right-spice. I wondered who'd burned so much, for it was most costly. Samuel and Amanda were dancing wildly, so I grabbed my mug from the table to work my way through the crowd towards the Dragon-speaking man and his mouth-smacking friend. The latter's head lolled on its neck, passed out. The former drank large gulps from his mug, the mug and mouth having trouble connecting easily. I sank down in a seat near his side and took on the air of a drunk, that is sometimes incoherent, sometimes insanely focused on some triviality, and started up a chat with the fellow to find the lay of his mind. His face was thin, as though once strong, and he spoke free and loud so I had to shush him.

“Glinter,” I said, for that was his name, “My ears are tender and can only take the quietest talk. Will you bear with me?”

“Aye, I can do that,” he answered, a strange gleam in his sunken eyes, “Though what you're doing here with bad ears, I'll never guess.” He snorted and upended his empty mug onto the table. “I'm afraid my beer's run out, friend, and I never could talk quiet-like, with a dry tongue.” He was a true son of the Valley, seeing profit in conversation, so I ordered strong stouts, knowing he'd drink all.

“The Dragon,” I whispered so quiet no one could hear, not even he, except I said it with that peculiar tilt of mind and voice so he did hear, not knowing it was mostly in his head.

“Aye, it's real,” he returned, his black eyes glittering, his scowl fierce, “Up by Darry Mountain. I know it!” He cried aloud in certainty as he brought his fist down on the wooden table, and must have bruised that appendage, so violent was his strike. But the blow released the tension in Glinter as he shook his hand, and quieted. I checked for watchers turned our way. The three were two, and faced the dancers, though their heads swivelled. Their woman was gone, nor could I see the hooded one.

“How do I find Dragons?” I asked.

He finished his mug, grabbed mine, and drained it in half. “The Oild Man,” he said. “Ye gots to find the Oild Man. He guards the gate.”

“What gate?”

“The Gate of Horas.”

“Where's the Gate?”

“He took it all from me you know. I'd kill him, if I dared.” Glinter sank into the despondency so common with the drunk. I shook his shoulder. “Where's the Gate with the Oild Man?” I asked.

“He'll want something,” Glinter muttered. “He's a thief!”

“What does he want?”

“I curse him forever. He said I could find her if I brought him a feather.”

“That's all?”

“Aye, that's it,” and he let out a great sob to add, “A feather from the future! And he made me empty my pockets to him too so I had no gold nor silver nor gem to find my feather.” Glinter grabbed me by the lapels to draw me into his boozy orbit, to cry, “How could I find a feather from the future, without gold?” and he passed out.

“What did you do?” I asked urgently as I shook the man.

“Do,” a great voice cried so I turned my head to see Boron catch my glimpse and nod his head at the two mercenaries, who were staring directly at Glinter and I, “We do whatever we want!” and Boron laughed. He carefully stomped over so as not to crush anyone, and knelt, to give Glinter a slight thump on the head, saying, “And now he'll remember nothing for a day or two,” and Boron smiled at me and winked. “They'll be talking to him too, less I miss my bet,” he said. “He'll be alright. It's all in how you do it,” he explained.

I looked to where the two were, but they were gone. My gaze travelled to our table. Amanda wasn't there, nor Samuel the Fletcher. I could find none of the traces of the watchers.

“I hear a cry,” Boron said, and began to make his way towards the Giant's door in the tavern. He called to me, “Amanda! Out back. Hurry!” His way was slowed by a crowd milling on the floor picking up coins and small bills someone had strewn about.

The noise was immense as people cried of good fortune. I leapt over men and women, pushing them aside with word and deed as I sprang for the man-sized gate much closer to the glow houses than Boron's distant Giant's door. More impediments were on the floor as I neared my goal, and the crowd was thick in their greed. I bounced off one fellow, which turned my head so I saw the hooded one bent over Glinter, holding a tablet under his nose so Glinter sneezed. I pushed folks aside with ill grace so they cried at me and grabbed my clothes. Some tough ones brought out their clubs and gathered, seeing profit in robbery amid chaos. I muttered a word and my staff shook, vibrations flinging from it as my vision directed, but my accent was off on the word so their clubs didn't fall from hands too tender to hold their weapons' new heat. They were close now! Even as I fought through the mob I adjusted the word and added vigor so the thieves cried out as their clubs smoked, and metal studs glowed orange. They grabbed other implements of destruction, to bear down on me, but I muttered another word so the air thickened about the end of my staff, which I swung to knock them down one by one, though the staff never touched a one, and soon none stood to harm me. The whole town would know who I was now, and I'd be on the run, such was their hatred of Sethies who traded in Right, and saw no gain in their pitiful philosophy of profit. I ran through the door, grabbing a broom that lay by the side and digging it into the ground to jam the door shut.

Boron stood in the yard swinging the ball of glow worms torn from the lintel, but illuminating only the dirt of the yard, brightly coloured glow houses, and no Amanda nor Samuel, just high black fences that surrounded the place. “Do you see her?” I cried. “What trouble do we have?”

“I don't see her, and we've trouble enough I reckon, but hush, and we'll listen for a moment,” and he rumbled in his throat.

“Listen?” I cried in exasperation. “They'll be beating through that door in that moment!”

“Quiet little one,” he commanded, and I obeyed, for I'd seen the rise of panic in myself, and must tamp it down. “Amanda,” he said, “Is daughter to a queen.” I sucked in a breath. “Ah, I hear them,” he cried as he leapt over the tall fence. “Follow!" The ground shook from his great leap and I fell down, to pick myself up, and race after Boron. Why did he say follow us?

The hammering on the door exploded into the yard and men and their rages poured forth. I leapt for the fence and bounced off. Ouch! Too tall! I spied a support leaning to the top of the structure and ran for it, pursuers' beery breath giving me wings as I ran up the round log and flung myself over, to land in a roll, though bashing myself against a boulder placed there to keep carts from coming too close. Ow! I could hear men on the other side arguing who should go over first, the memory of my staff on their heads fresh in their minds, and they preferring to face me in multitude rather than alone. I jumped to my feet, stretched my bruises, and seeing four streets, one giant, three normal, and choosing, I raced away. But I was turned, and rounding a corner, saw the entrance to the enormous tavern dead ahead, with men pouring forth in hunt, crying, “Sethian!” I reversed, not knowing if they'd spotted me, lamenting I was last of our crew to get gone. I soon stopped inside a dark corner, and sniffed, but the wind was none. Which way?