Stormcallers: Chapter 3

Now I must tell you of the Eroseans, once a proud people, who traveled from their distant island to many a land in the great cloud-sea. They knew the art of trade and built an empire of coin to whet the lips of the most greedy of men. There are few Eroseans who can withstand the lure of money, and so across the many islands they traded food and fur, silks and perfume, jewels and steel, animals and stories of heathen nations.

But the Eroseans were no savages, and so they had learned the secrets of the Trade House.

Rukiya had not understood the Trade House, because it was a very Two-chin idea; to have an entire building devoted to offering goods and accepting bonds. For the Orenda people, it was their way to swear one’s word and the deal was done. For the Two-chins, one’s word was not enough; you also had to be in the right place.

Even the promises they made were tinted with magic; They traded not only for the furs in front of them, but sometimes traded for storm-breath that had not yet been collected. They would offer goods for grain not yet harvested, as if they could predict what fortunes the future would bring.

Such strange things to happen in the Trade House! Rukiya tried to imagine what such a place would look like. Would it be like a mountain or a tree? Perhaps a broad basin to collect trades like rainwater? Was it shaped like a long thin river, or a balloon that held air and promises; things that couldn’t be seen but were somehow there?

But fortunate Rukiya, Clashwind town was very large, and it was the way of Eroseans to not know the names of everyone they lived with. So far and wide did they travel, that an Erosean might need a tailor, or a baker, and not know who they are; so they covered their doors with cloth that bore images of what lay behind them.

As Rukiya wandered the streets of Clashwind town, she could see pictures of men chopping meat, hammering at an anvil, weaving cloth, and other strange behaviors she didn’t recognize. Some doors were bare while others had strange designs and patterns that she did not understand, but this was because she did not know that Erosean’s cared much for their lineage, and crafted elaborate patterns and colors to mark their families.

Before long, Rukiya found herself at the center of Clashwind town, where the Great Spire rose above the land. Here she saw the town hall, resplendent in its gold and silver. She saw nobles and merchants walking across the square, paying her the attention they would spare a dog.

Here too, she saw a giant stone building with a doorway twice the size of any other. Over the door was a covering, depicting thin pale people wearing Erosean clothing, sitting at wooden tables and passing each other bundles of food, small metal coins, bags, crates, and any manner of items. In the corner, a bearded Two-chin was handing strange shape across the table, and Rukiya had to stare before she was certain it was not a fat baby with a twisted nose, for you see, she had never seen a pig before.

Was it the Trade House?

It was indeed, and Rukiya knew it could be nothing else. She took a quick breath and muttered a small charm for a strengthened spirit before parting the tapestry and opening the giant wooden door.

How to describe what she saw? To you or I, it was little more than a large room, filled with tables and chairs occupied by puffy-sleeved merchants. But to a child of the Orenda people, who had never seen an Erosean before today? How strange it must have been for her! The Two-chins waved metal cups about and laughed like children, sometimes leaning forward and lowering their voices while their fellow tugged on their beard or scratched under their feathered hats. Their babbling language flowed from their mouths in a cascade of hard and slippery sounds that trickled through Rukiya’s ears like a hard rain. Her father had made her laugh once, with his mocking mimicry of their speech, but this was no mockery.

Poor Rukiya, she was so frightened that she pushed herself against the wall, too afraid to step into the room. Indeed, she might have run out of the Trade House then and there, had not a calm and soothing voice caught her ear.

“Girl child, are you lost?”

Amazed to hear the Lergosian language in such a foreign place, Rukiya turned to see the strangest thing: A Lergosian man sat at a table, a single elbow resting on its wooden top. He was dressed not in Lergosian clothing, but in the fluted and flared tunic and leggings of Erosea. His hair was still long, and his beard still full, but he wore a hat and jeweled rings on his fingers. His smile was teeth, just like an Erosean, but his skin and hair was as dark as Rukiya’s. His names was Hyleastus Asidi, and he had lived among the Eroseans for many years as a broker.

“Are you Lergosian?” She asked.

“Indeed I am,” Hyleastus Asidi said. “What are you doing here? This is not a place for girl children such as yourself.”

At being called a girl child, Rukiya’s temper flared. Clenching her fist, she drew herself up and spoke in a clear voice worthy of any Orenda; “I am no child. I have traveled all the way from Oleni to trade.”

“Mm.” Hyleastus Asidi rubbed a finger beneath his chin, like this. “You are Orenda, then? Why travel so far? What could you need that you could not find in the many villages between here and there?”

Rukiya gripped her traveler’s charm, feeling Old Wana’s ring between her fingertips before she answered. “I need to learn the magics of the Two-chins. An old woman of our village is sick, and we cannot help her alone.”

Now Hyleastus Asidi was a clever broker, and he knew the Two-chins had no magics, but medicines and science. He also knew that the People of Lergos thought these were one and the same, so he asked Rukiya; “Can you speak oman? We are in an Erosean Trade-house, and trade must happen in oman.”

Fortunate Rukiya, that she had listened to her father; oman was a simple language spoken by every island on the cloud-sea, brought by the Eroseans to make their trade easier. If you knew oman, you could speak with anyone from any land.

“Excellent,” Hyleastus Asidi smiled. “Then sit down, and we shall bargain as the Two-chins do.” With that, he stuck out his hand, pointing all of his fingers at Rukiya’s chest. “First you must grip my hand. It is how men greet each other in Erosea. Then we must tell each other our names. My name is Hyleastus Asidi, trade-merchant and goods broker.”

Poor Rukiya, she did not understand. How could she tell the man her name, when she had just met him? For it was the way of the Orenda that you did not share your name until they had earned the right to know it. Strange too was his name; it was composed of two words. Asidi she recognized as a Lergosian name, but Hyleastus?

Hyleastus Asidi grinned at her hesitation. “In Erosea, they do not respect their names like we do. They share them freely as a sign of trust and friendship.” Rukiya did not believe simply knowing a name quicker established friendship and trust quicker, but this man was the only Lergosian she had seen since entering Clashwind Town. Her people were very far away, as were their ways. She was on her own, and in a strange land one would have to do strange things.

At last she took his hand, and spoke; “My name is Rukiya.”

“Good,” at last the man released her hand. “Now we may bargain.”

“What is ‘broker’?” She had never heard the word before.

“Many merchants come through Clashwind,” the man smiled. “They do not know who to sell their goods to, or where the best deals are found. They do not know the different tribes, or even the names of all the islands. I know, and so I buy and sell for them. I prepare meetings. I introduce people. For example, you want medicine; I do not have medicine, but I know many who do, and I know what they will want in trade. You say your old woman is sick? What medicine do you need?”

“I do not know,” Rukiya admitted. “She has been ill for two seasons now, and is not getting better. Her skin is hot. She becomes angry or sobs uncontrollably. She says strange things and sees things which are not there. She blames the innocent for crimes committed years ago, or blames those long dead for crimes committed today. She remembers stories all the way back, before the Two-chins came to Lergos. I need some of the Two-chins’ magic, or else she will die.”

At hearing this, Hyleastus Asidi was thoughtful, for he knew well these symptoms, and he knew the Two-chins had no cure with their medicines. He said: “You need a ‘priest’, not medicine.” Rukiya did not know this word. “We do not have a ‘priest’. My father says there is no cure, but the Eroseans can cure the white chills, or red-throat. They make metal harder than ours, and weave cloth finer. They have strong magic, and must be able to cure Old Wana.”

Hyleastus Asidi was not moved. “Medicine is not magic. If you wish to help her, best to let her die quickly.”

At hearing these words, spoken in a foreign language that felt thick in her ears, Rukiya’s heart began to burn. She spoke, not in oman: “I do not know your tribe, but I thought you would understand. You have a second name, but I thought you would understand. You wear their leggings, but I thought you would understand. I was a fool. You want her to die, just like my father. You are no longer a Lergosian, you are a Two-chin!”

To hear these words from a young Orenda girl angered Hyleastus Asidi, for in the darkness of night, the storms whispered to him much the same. But he did not fear Rukiya as he feared the storms, so he leaned forward and raised the back of his hand in front of Rukiya’s face.

He said: “Do you see this ring? I took it from a Castian trader who needed five barrels of bark-wine to sell on Norrholt for five times its value. I have lived on Lergos for over a hundred seasons, and I have never seen such a ring on the hand of a Lergosian. There is a man in Clashwind, a town-headman of sorts, who commands every soldier behind its walls. I have eaten in his house. I have shared his food. If I spoke to him in the streets, he would answer. You, you he would not even see.”

Rukiya hung her head, for she knew it was true. When Hyleastus Asidi saw that she was sorry, he lowered his hand and asked her, “what do you have to trade?”

Poor Rukiya! She had traded away everything she had. Her tie of feathers, her river-fox skins, even her bag of Erosean coins had served her well to bring her to Clashwind town, but now she had nothing else to give. Despair swelled in her heart as she realized she had failed, that she would return to her people without medicine, and Old Wana would be left to succumb to her madness.

When Hyleastus Asidi saw that she had nothing to give, he leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment, for he was a clever and greedy man. He knew young girls from Lergos fetched a fine price to foreign nobles who wanted exotic servants to tend to their homes, so he hatched a clever plan. He spoke to her in the tongue of oman: “Perhaps it is for the best you cannot pay. Though I do know of medicine, would you know what to do with it? How to give it to your old woman so she does not fall sicker still?”

At hearing this Rukiya looked up again, hope brewing once more in her chest, for Hyleastus Asidi had chosen his words with great skill. “My father is our village shaman, and he knows all the healing magics.”

But greedy Hyleastus Asidi acted unconvinced, for this was part of his plan. “Nothing but Backwards hedge-medicine,” he said, waving his hand like this. “This medicine is not a matter of broth or tea. It will take many days of care from a ‘doctor’ to cure her. Does your village have one?”

Rukiya did not know this word, for Hyleastus Asidi had spoken in Erosean so she would not say yes.

“They have a ‘doctor’ here,” Hyleastus Asidi continued, pointing towards the door. “I will have to speak with him; not you, as he will not listen to a tribal girl. He will have to travel to your village and stay for days to make your old woman well.”

“Will you do this?” Rukiya begged greedy Hyleastus Asidi.

“It will cost much,” he said, shaking his head. “Likely more than your whole village has to sell.”

“I can make a promise,” Rukiya said, desperation spurning her words beyond her wisdom. “We will return next season with more furs and feathers. We will bring storm-breath and fireseed. We will leave our fields empty to gather as much as you like, if you tell the doctor” she stumbled over the strange word “to heal Old Wana.”

Greedy Hyleastus Asidi moved his shoulders up and down, in the way of an Erosean. “But if the doctor is in your village, then he will not be here, and anyone who gets sick may suffer and die. Even a hundred carts of storm-breath would not be enough. No, you are not trading for goods, but for a person. You must trade in kind.”

So clever were Hyleastus Asidi’s words that Rukiya thought it was her own idea when she told him: “I offer myself. I will work for you. You offer service, I pay with service. If you speak with the doctor, I will be your servant for as long as it takes to cure her.”

Now Hyleastus Asidi sprung his trap: “I have no need for a servant,” he said, “but there are those who do. I know a man, a Captain of a trading ship, and he’ll be glad to have someone like you. In fact, he is scheduled to dock here this very evening. Are you willing to serve someone for a year whose name you do not know, in exchange for a cure that may not even work?”

What did she say?

Poor Rukiya, brave and strong, she could not let Old Wana die. What was a year of Rukiya’s life in servitude compared to a year of Old Wana’s in health? She could once again open her door to the men and women asking for a poultice or a simple charm. She could tell stories to the children, and remind them who they really were. And perhaps, if she were clever, she could learn the ways of the Two-chins, learn their magics, and return to teach her people well. What else could she say, but yes?