Page 23 of Into the West

Well, he wouldn’t actually use them on anyone. All he’d need to do was to scare the living hell out of them, and a barrage of Poomers turning the trees behind them to splinters would certainly do that.

But it wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be ethical. We’d be acting just like the Empire had: coming in, displaying force, and intimidating everyone we encountered. And if a display of force failed to get the desired results, how tempting, how easy it would be, to just use that force on whoever was there. The Empire was always assured of having “more,” no matter what. Resist the army once, and five times more respond, and if they met opposition, twenty times more would come next. Records weren’t kept of what cultures were in an area before the Empire expanded. Soldiers returned from “defending the territory,” meaning, the territory just conquered. When no natives were left, after all, the land was protected from them. Besides, “defense” sounds so much nicer around the homelands than “invasion force,” a term that could scare people. “Defense” implies there were omnipresent, powerful enemies to defend against, and everyone likes thinking of themselves as the victim when they have defenders.

So Kordas coaxed, and cajoled, and promised, and eventually, grudgingly, the natives consulted with each other and the blacksmith turned to give him their verdict.

“Tha’ can pass through. But no stoppin’ and no stayin’—”

“I can’t promise that,” Kordas countered. “There are a great many of us, and we’re going to have to stop for the night. The horses can’t safely tow the boats if they can’t see. But I promise we won’t go more than a few lengths away from the river, and we’ll move as quickly as we can.”

They looked sullen.

“Look,” he finally said, as some children decided that they didn’t want to stay inside the barges when there were exciting things happening on the riverbank. “We’ve got children with us! Would anyone sane risk their children by fighting?”

It might not have been the best answer he could come up with, but the sight of those curious faces must have caused some thawing, because finally the blacksmith nodded. “Aight,” he said. “Stoppin’ for the night. But no longer.”

With that assurance, Kordas waved to the front group, which started off—slow as a snail at first, as the horses strained against the weight they were being asked to haul, but speeding up as the barges got momentum.

There was a Doll standing next to the Gate to relay messages back through it to Rose and the rest. He looked at the Doll and nodded. As the first barges cleared the Gate area, a pair of mule heads poked through the shimmer of the Gate and slowly their barges emerged.

Great. Part one of the negotiations. And as soon as they get some idea that there are a lot more of us than they thought, and that begins to rile them up all over again, I’ll begin the part of the negotiations where they actually get something out of this.

Food forgotten, all of the scouting party sat with hands clenched and eyes fastened on Amethyst, who relayed the encounter with the suspicious locals. Fortunately, it appeared that Amethyst was not one of those Dolls who never said a word unless they were asked a direct question. Maybe all of them listening with interest to her story emboldened her. For whatever reason, she literally recited everything that happened, every word Kordas and the strangers said, and even narrated the strangers’ reactions. And when she finally said, “And so they agree, and now the barges are moving again,” they all sighed with relief simultaneously.

“What are they going to do when they finally realize we outnumber them a thousand to one?” Briada Fairweather asked aloud, making Delia tense up all over again.

But her cousin Bart barked with laughter. “They won’t be doin’ a thing. But they’ll likely get a-feared, and Kordas will have to soothe ’em all over again.”

Of course he was right. And of course Kordas would, because Kordas, she was increasingly certain, could fix anything that had to do with managing people.

“Well, this isn’t getting us moving,” Ivar pointed out, and set the example for the rest of them by heading for his horse Manta. In a moment he had put the bit back in her mouth and mounted up. Sai cleaned up what little there was to pick up, tossing the bits of bread left to Bay, and the rest went to their horses—or, in the case of Delia, to the last barge.

Amethyst came with her. “This one can chop the wood that you Fetch, Delia,” the Doll offered. “And this one can carry it to be stacked on the next barge if we run out of room.”

Ahead of them, Tight Squeeze strained in his harness, and Buttercup did her best behind him; the first barge moved, then the second and third, and with a little lurch, the one they were on crept up the river, gradually gaining speed.

“That would be very kind of you, Amethyst,” Delia said gratefully. “Extraordinarily kind, in fact. Thank you. Are you going to be sleeping in the women’s barge?” she added, with a pause to Fetch a dead branch about as thick as her wrist from the top of a tree; it broke with an audible snap and landed at her feet. Amethyst took the hand axe out of her hand and began breaking the branch into neat sections about the length of her forearm.

“This one does not sleep,” Amethyst reminded her. “And this one sees very well in the dark. This one will be taking the night watch all night, alongside some of you.”

“Oh.” She blushed at her own forgetfulness. “I—hope that won’t be tedious.”

“Before the Dolls escaped, this one rarely saw anything outside the Palace,” Amethyst pointed out. “And when this one was a free Elemental, this one rarely paid much attention to the world.” She paused. “A mistake. If we had spent more time studying humans and less time in play with each other, we might not have been caught in that trap.”

Delia took care with her reply. This river was rather sluggish, which was just as well, but at least the horses weren’t having to pull against the current at the moment. Somehow, the water smelled cold and green; at least, that was how she would have described it. There must have been a hard frost along here last night, since on this section, the trees were every color between yellow and a dark purple-red she’d never seen in an autumn leaf before.

“Well, now you know,” Delia replied, after an uncomfortably long pause punctuated only by the thuds of branches hitting the barge and the thwack of the hand axe.

“Now we know,” Amethyst agreed. “But also, the senses these material bodies have are much different from our native senses. Everything is endlessly interesting to this one. And since the Baron has pledged to set us free, our time in using them is limited, so this one, at least, is observing all that is to be observed, and saving the memories.”

Delia was going to say something, but she was interrupted by Ivar shouting “Flush!” and looked up to see ducks coming her way.

Most of the irate locals had gone back to their village, but the blacksmith and two more burly fellows remained. And as the sun climbed higher in the sky and then headed into the west, and the barges didn’t stop coming, Kordas was paying careful attention to their faces.

When at last they displayed what he considered to be the correct degree of alarm—which was about at the point where the blacksmith probably figured that the adult Valdemarans outnumbered his villagers by at least ten to one—he slid down off Arial’s back, ground-tied her, and walked over to them.

“Now we can begin the real negotiations,” he said genially, while they eyed him with distrust. “Now, you take a look down that path—” he continued, pointing at the line of horses. “And pay close attention to all that nice, useful horse dung. That’ll be yours for the taking.”

At least one of the three men must have been a farmer, because his face lit up with understanding and a little greed.