The town square of Tucamari was, as ever, busy with people of all sorts. Most were going about their business, but some were waiting for the noon-day bell. Trademaster Horocaxi was going to speak at noon, and whenever the Trademaster spoke there were opportunities for profit, adventure, or at the very least news-gathering.
The bell sounded, its chime almost lost in the noise of the square. Onto the rostrum stepped Trademaster Horocaxi, a guard holding each elbow to assist him up. The spindly figure looked more frail than ever, and his long robe of expensive blue cloth hung loose. But his voice was strong, and when he held up his hand the noise died away to subdued muttering and whispers.
“People of Tucamari, strangers, friends,” he began. “You know me by reputation and by long association. Permit me to introduce my friend Sutek the Seer. It is on his behalf that I speak, and I ask you to accord him the same respect you would me.”
The crowd noise rose in volume as people discussed the turn of events. The respect given to Horocaxi was due to his wealth and the numbers of his hired guards rather than anything else, and presumably any insult to this Sutek would be avenged by the Trademaster’s bullies.
Horocaxi extended an arm, and another figure stepped onto the dais. He too wore a long robe, noticeably tattered and travel-worn. He bore a long staff, more badge of office than weapon, and cradled a strange translucent orb about the size of a human skull. Strangest of all, he wore a plain metal mask – a simple steel plate with only eye-holes breaking its plain surface.
“The Seer has had a vision. In a place not many weeks from here is a great treasure, a hoard from ancient times, from before The Fall. But the road is dangerous. I am here to engage on Sutek’s behalf fearless companions to escort him to that place. The task is simple to describe but hard to carry out. Ensure that the Seer arrives safety at the place his visions show him; assist him in the retrieval of the items he seeks; return him safely to Tucamari. Any treasures brought back will be shared, with a third going to the Seer, a third to myself, and a third divided amongst the Seer’s companions. Who will step forward?”
From one side of the crowd three figures stepped forth. One was a mutant of average size, with a slouched posture and strangely-jointed arms, leaning casually on a metal pole which appeared to be a piece of scrap from an Ancient site. The second was also a mutant of unsurprising appearance, holding a steel-shafted axe. Their companion was a large, tough-looking mutant who leant on a long cleaver and stared unblinkingly at the rostrum; hoses crudely implanted into his face swung gently as he breathed. The first one spoke: “I’m Brol. He’s Vetch. And that,“ - he indicated the large mutant – “is Thok.”
To their left a fourth mutant stepped out. He was burly and bow-legged, and his face was almost entirely occupied by a huge toothy mouth with three eyes above it. On one hand he wore a crude but powerful-looking mechanical pincer, and at his waist he wore a pistol of curious design.
The Trademaster beckoned the four forward to the foot of the rostrum. They stood in a line, Brol and Vetch eyeing the fourth suspiciously and Thok looking around vacantly. Horocaxi took a step back to confer with Sutek, who turned his metal-masked head towards the volunteers. Sutek came to the edge of the platform and looked down at the five. He raised his staff and passed it along the line, pausing for a moment over each head. As the staff hovered over a head the metal mask looked from the face down to the globe he held half wrapped in a fold of his robe and back again before moving on to the next. Having travelled from Brol at the right of the line to the three-eyed mutant at the left he stepped back and gave the Trademaster a curt nod; Horocaxi took the Seer’s place at the edge and spoke loudly for the benefit of the crowd.
“These people have passed the test; they will accompany the Seer on his journey. I ask you all to give them any help they require as they prepare.” He frowned. “Remember, they are under my protection.”
He climbed stiffly down from the side of the platform, with a guard standing solicitously at each side of the steps in case he should fall. Sutek followed him, metal mask looking down awkwardly and robe hitched up, and one of the Trademaster’s guards beckoned the volunteers to follow.
That night found the five housed in a hut next to the walls which surrounded the Trademaster’s complex of huts, stores and warehouses. The hut was circular, its walls a single piece of ribbed metal broken only by a crudely cut doorway, its roof a patchwork of sheets of some slick Ancient material, hides and skins. Brol found the contrast between the walls and some of the roof, clearly of Ancient manufacture, and the poorly-finished doorway and crude roof patches, interesting and pointed it out to the others. The three-eyed mutant, who had identified himself as Akim Jart, showed a polite interest, Thok appeared not to have heard him, and the others showed no curiosity at all. A meal was brought to them by servants, escorted by a well-dressed person, clearly one of the Trademaster’s inner circle. He informed them that the meal was given freely to them by the Trademaster, who was also supplying them with a pack beast to carry the treasure. However his generosity would not extend to food, water, weapons or ammunition with which, as adventurers-for-hire, they would doubtless be well supplied anyway. In return the Trademaster asked only that they select one of their number as a leader and that they should be ready to depart at dawn.
The atmosphere during the meal was tense. Brol was already clearly the leader of the three who volunteered together, and neither Vetch nor Thok seemed to have any difficulty with that. He several times tried to broach the subject, but the others seemed too intent on the food. Finally, after most of the food had gone, he rose to his feet, looking awkward and nervous. “Well, we all heard it. I am already known to these two, and hope that you will accept me as your leader. What do you say?”
Akim Jart, who had crammed twice as much food into his large mouth as anyone else had eaten, turned his three eyes from his plate to Brol’s face and paused with a handful of food part-way to his mouth. He slowly laid the food down, shrugged and then, with an effort, rose to his feet and held out his hand to Brol. Brol took it with an expression of relief and slumped down into his seat. The potent clear liquor flowed freely, and a rowdy night followed.
Before dawn a loud honking awoke the five in the hut and when they staggered outside they found a large awkward-looking beast struggling with its handler, who was attempting to place an empty pack-saddle on its back. They picked over the remains of the previous night’s meal as they watched the tussle, and as dawn broke Sutek the Seer emerged from the compound gate. He spoke to them in a voice made hollow by the metal mask – it occurred to Brol that he had not heard the Seer speak before.
“Are we ready to depart? Our road lies northwards, and we must make some distance before the sun grows too hot.”
Exchanging glances, the others began to gather together their equipment. Within a half hour they were ready, packs shouldered and the pack-beast, now carrying their supplies, unconcernedly chewing the cud. Without a word Sutek set off along the path. It led through the scattered huts, junk-piles and middens which made up the town of Tucamari; soon it passed a rickety watch-tower which marked the northern edge of town and joined the old highway north. This road was of some blackish Ancient material, rock hard in places, but crumbling at the edges. It ran dead straight as far as the eyes could see across the Badlands, dipping and rising slightly with the land but on the whole flat.
By noon Tucamari was out of sight behind a dip, and without a word Sutek veered off the road into a patch of scrub and produced a water-bottle. Brol and the others did likewise, and Akim Jart produced a gnawed joint of meat saved from the previous night. The sun beat down on the Badlands, the coarse sand broken by occasional clumps of bushes or cactus and, at the side of the road, a few sand-blasted shapes of twisted metal that were perhaps Ancient vehicles. A vortex of air swirled a column of sand up, across the road and away. Without warning Sutek stoppered his bottle, stood up and began to walk. The other five looked at each other, and Akim Jart jerked his head at Sutek. Vetch looked at Sutek. “You’ll have to speak to him, Brol”, he said. With a sigh Brol got up, shouldered his pack and weapon, and trotted to catch up with Sutek. The others hung back, making a show of repacking their gear, dusting down clothes, fiddling with weapons. They could see Brol speaking to Sutek, gesturing with his strangely-jointed arms, pointing back at the group, up the road the way they were going. Sutek’s mask turned one way then the other; its blank front gave an impression of bafflement, incomprehension. Abruptly he turned and marched back to where the other four were now standing in a clump. Brol again ran to catch up.
“Brol tells me you need to know what we are doing, where we are going. I cannot see why, but in the interests of group unity I will tell you what I know. I have seen a place, which I believe to be north of here. I get the impression of a name, of the surrounding ground, no more. I feel it is a dangerous place, ancient, ruinous, but full of valuable items left from the time of the Old Ones. I myself seek one particular item which will aid me in my craft and will in the meantime assist the Trademaster with a problem. Its details would mean nothing to you. Lacking the influence to recruit guards, I approached Trademaster Horocaxi. His name attracted you. The rest you know – if you escort me safety there and back, the treasures we find will be shared between you, the Trademaster, and yourselves. Time is passing. I feel that there is a place ahead which will afford us shelter for the night. I will know it as we near it, but for now I can tell you no more and we must move on.”
Sutek turned stiffly and set off up the road again. Without a word the five followed, Thok at the slow steady pace that appeared to be the only gait he possessed and Brol last as if the weight of his pack had doubled.
Towards dusk Sutek halted and motioned the others to stop. He lifted his staff, which wavered as if searching for something, and then he pointed. “Over there – the place I saw. We can rest safely there.” A kilometre or two away a patch of grey showed in the desert. Slightly further on the road branched, with the odd right-angled junction favoured by roads built by the Ancients. This new, smaller and more worn road seemed to lead in the direction indicated and the group followed the road. The road led to an area of jumbled grey rocks. These were of all sizes, and in placed were piled many metres high. Approaching them Brol and Vetch discussed the appearance of the rocks. Brol insisted that many of them were suspiciously flat-edged, and that their grey colour was at odds with the colour of the surrounding landscape. Vetch scoffed at the suggestion that they were not natural – how could anyone have made so many rocks, and why? With an uncanny certainty Sutek led them to an opening in the largest pile of rocks, two massive grey uprights with an equally huge lintel across them, which concealed a dark cavern. Some clambering about with a torch showed Brol that the cavern was not large, and that the roof was a single seamless sheet of rock, quite flat, confirming to him his theory that the cavern was part of an enormous Ancient building which had collapsed and that the roof was the floor of another building above the first. The others showed less curiosity, instead breaking out the food, lighting a fire, and sorting out a guard rota in complete confidence in the Seer’s assertion that they would be safe.
That proved to be the case, and at dawn they rose. Returning from performing his morning necessities Vetch spotted a larger-than-usual dust-devil not far away. Looking closer he saw in or near the spiral of sand a figure. Rather than lie down and cover up, the sensible action if caught in a sand storm, the figure was determinedly battling through the dust and seemed to be heading in their direction. After some time the figure disappeared. Vetch watched as the dust-devil moved on and thought he could make out the figure lying in the sand. He mentioned it to the others as they ate their breakfast, and Brol said that as it appeared to be on their way they should investigate. After packing up and struggling with the irritable pack-beast they set off.
The figure was lying not far from the edge of the road. Brol and Thok went to investigate and found a single person covered with a protective sheet of some slick material half covered in blown sand and apparently unconscious. Brol cautiously lifted a corner of the sheet and saw underneath what seemed to be a female human. Brol and Thok pulled back the sheet and as they did so the woman stirred. Brol looked quizzically up at Thok who held out his water-flask. The woman opened her eyes, started in alarm and scrabbled at the sand for a moment, looking wildly around. Thok held the flask out again, and the woman raised herself on one elbow. She drank greedily, choked, and sat up. She looked the two mutants up and down, and they looked back. “Not them, anyway,” she said hoarsely, drank sparingly, and held the flask which Thok took. She stood up, swaying slightly, and Brol noted her strange clothes. She was wearing a tight one-piece suit of a sandy colour which seemed to be made of the same strange material as the sheet. She had a gun of some sort on her belt, and a small pouch. Bending, she picked up the sheet and began to fold it smaller and smaller until it fitted easily into the pouch. She looked around the sand where she had been lying, and Brol thought he heard her mutter ”Respirator”. Appearing to recollect herself she stood up straight and said formally, “Theodora Fane, sergeant, National Recovery Agency”. Thok turned to look at Brol and his hoses swung gently. Brol looked puzzled. “National Recovery Agency?”
Fane looked confused then said, “We were brought out of stasis and sent to . . . sent out on a mission. Our vehicle was attacked and crashed. I think I was the only one to get away.”
She looked up the road. “Which way were you heading?”
Thok pointed and she said “There’s safety in numbers. Mind if I accompany you?”
The two led the newcomer back to where the others waited on the road. Vetch and Akim Jart greeted the newcomer with caution, and after she had introduced herself in the same formal way they more or less ignored her. Sutek, who had been standing staring fixedly northwards up the road all through the rescue and arrival of the stranger, suddenly stalked up to her, and raised his staff to make a pass over Fane’s head. She watched Sutek’s actions with curiosity and apparent amusement. Evidently satisfied, Sutek set off along the road at a leisurely pace and the others, collecting their packs, followed.
Fane fell in alongside Brol. “Is he always like this?” she asked, nodding at Sutek.
“Always,” replied Brol with a laugh.
From Dust:
Introduction
http://www.spodilicious.com/from-dust-introduction.html
Prologue
http://www.spodilicious.com/from-dust-prologue.html
Chapter 1 - The Trademaster
http://www.spodilicious.com/from-dust-chapter-1---the-trademaster.html
Chapter 2 - The Wretched
http://www.spodilicious.com/from-dust-chapter-2---the-wretched.html
Chapter 3 - The Device
http://www.spodilicious.com/from-dust-chapter-3---the-device.html
Chapter 4 - Tucamari
http://www.spodilicious.com/from-dust-chapter-4---tucamari.html
The bell sounded, its chime almost lost in the noise of the square. Onto the rostrum stepped Trademaster Horocaxi, a guard holding each elbow to assist him up. The spindly figure looked more frail than ever, and his long robe of expensive blue cloth hung loose. But his voice was strong, and when he held up his hand the noise died away to subdued muttering and whispers.
“People of Tucamari, strangers, friends,” he began. “You know me by reputation and by long association. Permit me to introduce my friend Sutek the Seer. It is on his behalf that I speak, and I ask you to accord him the same respect you would me.”
The crowd noise rose in volume as people discussed the turn of events. The respect given to Horocaxi was due to his wealth and the numbers of his hired guards rather than anything else, and presumably any insult to this Sutek would be avenged by the Trademaster’s bullies.
Horocaxi extended an arm, and another figure stepped onto the dais. He too wore a long robe, noticeably tattered and travel-worn. He bore a long staff, more badge of office than weapon, and cradled a strange translucent orb about the size of a human skull. Strangest of all, he wore a plain metal mask – a simple steel plate with only eye-holes breaking its plain surface.
“The Seer has had a vision. In a place not many weeks from here is a great treasure, a hoard from ancient times, from before The Fall. But the road is dangerous. I am here to engage on Sutek’s behalf fearless companions to escort him to that place. The task is simple to describe but hard to carry out. Ensure that the Seer arrives safety at the place his visions show him; assist him in the retrieval of the items he seeks; return him safely to Tucamari. Any treasures brought back will be shared, with a third going to the Seer, a third to myself, and a third divided amongst the Seer’s companions. Who will step forward?”
From one side of the crowd three figures stepped forth. One was a mutant of average size, with a slouched posture and strangely-jointed arms, leaning casually on a metal pole which appeared to be a piece of scrap from an Ancient site. The second was also a mutant of unsurprising appearance, holding a steel-shafted axe. Their companion was a large, tough-looking mutant who leant on a long cleaver and stared unblinkingly at the rostrum; hoses crudely implanted into his face swung gently as he breathed. The first one spoke: “I’m Brol. He’s Vetch. And that,“ - he indicated the large mutant – “is Thok.”
To their left a fourth mutant stepped out. He was burly and bow-legged, and his face was almost entirely occupied by a huge toothy mouth with three eyes above it. On one hand he wore a crude but powerful-looking mechanical pincer, and at his waist he wore a pistol of curious design.
The Trademaster beckoned the four forward to the foot of the rostrum. They stood in a line, Brol and Vetch eyeing the fourth suspiciously and Thok looking around vacantly. Horocaxi took a step back to confer with Sutek, who turned his metal-masked head towards the volunteers. Sutek came to the edge of the platform and looked down at the five. He raised his staff and passed it along the line, pausing for a moment over each head. As the staff hovered over a head the metal mask looked from the face down to the globe he held half wrapped in a fold of his robe and back again before moving on to the next. Having travelled from Brol at the right of the line to the three-eyed mutant at the left he stepped back and gave the Trademaster a curt nod; Horocaxi took the Seer’s place at the edge and spoke loudly for the benefit of the crowd.
“These people have passed the test; they will accompany the Seer on his journey. I ask you all to give them any help they require as they prepare.” He frowned. “Remember, they are under my protection.”
He climbed stiffly down from the side of the platform, with a guard standing solicitously at each side of the steps in case he should fall. Sutek followed him, metal mask looking down awkwardly and robe hitched up, and one of the Trademaster’s guards beckoned the volunteers to follow.
That night found the five housed in a hut next to the walls which surrounded the Trademaster’s complex of huts, stores and warehouses. The hut was circular, its walls a single piece of ribbed metal broken only by a crudely cut doorway, its roof a patchwork of sheets of some slick Ancient material, hides and skins. Brol found the contrast between the walls and some of the roof, clearly of Ancient manufacture, and the poorly-finished doorway and crude roof patches, interesting and pointed it out to the others. The three-eyed mutant, who had identified himself as Akim Jart, showed a polite interest, Thok appeared not to have heard him, and the others showed no curiosity at all. A meal was brought to them by servants, escorted by a well-dressed person, clearly one of the Trademaster’s inner circle. He informed them that the meal was given freely to them by the Trademaster, who was also supplying them with a pack beast to carry the treasure. However his generosity would not extend to food, water, weapons or ammunition with which, as adventurers-for-hire, they would doubtless be well supplied anyway. In return the Trademaster asked only that they select one of their number as a leader and that they should be ready to depart at dawn.
The atmosphere during the meal was tense. Brol was already clearly the leader of the three who volunteered together, and neither Vetch nor Thok seemed to have any difficulty with that. He several times tried to broach the subject, but the others seemed too intent on the food. Finally, after most of the food had gone, he rose to his feet, looking awkward and nervous. “Well, we all heard it. I am already known to these two, and hope that you will accept me as your leader. What do you say?”
Akim Jart, who had crammed twice as much food into his large mouth as anyone else had eaten, turned his three eyes from his plate to Brol’s face and paused with a handful of food part-way to his mouth. He slowly laid the food down, shrugged and then, with an effort, rose to his feet and held out his hand to Brol. Brol took it with an expression of relief and slumped down into his seat. The potent clear liquor flowed freely, and a rowdy night followed.
Before dawn a loud honking awoke the five in the hut and when they staggered outside they found a large awkward-looking beast struggling with its handler, who was attempting to place an empty pack-saddle on its back. They picked over the remains of the previous night’s meal as they watched the tussle, and as dawn broke Sutek the Seer emerged from the compound gate. He spoke to them in a voice made hollow by the metal mask – it occurred to Brol that he had not heard the Seer speak before.
“Are we ready to depart? Our road lies northwards, and we must make some distance before the sun grows too hot.”
Exchanging glances, the others began to gather together their equipment. Within a half hour they were ready, packs shouldered and the pack-beast, now carrying their supplies, unconcernedly chewing the cud. Without a word Sutek set off along the path. It led through the scattered huts, junk-piles and middens which made up the town of Tucamari; soon it passed a rickety watch-tower which marked the northern edge of town and joined the old highway north. This road was of some blackish Ancient material, rock hard in places, but crumbling at the edges. It ran dead straight as far as the eyes could see across the Badlands, dipping and rising slightly with the land but on the whole flat.
By noon Tucamari was out of sight behind a dip, and without a word Sutek veered off the road into a patch of scrub and produced a water-bottle. Brol and the others did likewise, and Akim Jart produced a gnawed joint of meat saved from the previous night. The sun beat down on the Badlands, the coarse sand broken by occasional clumps of bushes or cactus and, at the side of the road, a few sand-blasted shapes of twisted metal that were perhaps Ancient vehicles. A vortex of air swirled a column of sand up, across the road and away. Without warning Sutek stoppered his bottle, stood up and began to walk. The other five looked at each other, and Akim Jart jerked his head at Sutek. Vetch looked at Sutek. “You’ll have to speak to him, Brol”, he said. With a sigh Brol got up, shouldered his pack and weapon, and trotted to catch up with Sutek. The others hung back, making a show of repacking their gear, dusting down clothes, fiddling with weapons. They could see Brol speaking to Sutek, gesturing with his strangely-jointed arms, pointing back at the group, up the road the way they were going. Sutek’s mask turned one way then the other; its blank front gave an impression of bafflement, incomprehension. Abruptly he turned and marched back to where the other four were now standing in a clump. Brol again ran to catch up.
“Brol tells me you need to know what we are doing, where we are going. I cannot see why, but in the interests of group unity I will tell you what I know. I have seen a place, which I believe to be north of here. I get the impression of a name, of the surrounding ground, no more. I feel it is a dangerous place, ancient, ruinous, but full of valuable items left from the time of the Old Ones. I myself seek one particular item which will aid me in my craft and will in the meantime assist the Trademaster with a problem. Its details would mean nothing to you. Lacking the influence to recruit guards, I approached Trademaster Horocaxi. His name attracted you. The rest you know – if you escort me safety there and back, the treasures we find will be shared between you, the Trademaster, and yourselves. Time is passing. I feel that there is a place ahead which will afford us shelter for the night. I will know it as we near it, but for now I can tell you no more and we must move on.”
Sutek turned stiffly and set off up the road again. Without a word the five followed, Thok at the slow steady pace that appeared to be the only gait he possessed and Brol last as if the weight of his pack had doubled.
Towards dusk Sutek halted and motioned the others to stop. He lifted his staff, which wavered as if searching for something, and then he pointed. “Over there – the place I saw. We can rest safely there.” A kilometre or two away a patch of grey showed in the desert. Slightly further on the road branched, with the odd right-angled junction favoured by roads built by the Ancients. This new, smaller and more worn road seemed to lead in the direction indicated and the group followed the road. The road led to an area of jumbled grey rocks. These were of all sizes, and in placed were piled many metres high. Approaching them Brol and Vetch discussed the appearance of the rocks. Brol insisted that many of them were suspiciously flat-edged, and that their grey colour was at odds with the colour of the surrounding landscape. Vetch scoffed at the suggestion that they were not natural – how could anyone have made so many rocks, and why? With an uncanny certainty Sutek led them to an opening in the largest pile of rocks, two massive grey uprights with an equally huge lintel across them, which concealed a dark cavern. Some clambering about with a torch showed Brol that the cavern was not large, and that the roof was a single seamless sheet of rock, quite flat, confirming to him his theory that the cavern was part of an enormous Ancient building which had collapsed and that the roof was the floor of another building above the first. The others showed less curiosity, instead breaking out the food, lighting a fire, and sorting out a guard rota in complete confidence in the Seer’s assertion that they would be safe.
That proved to be the case, and at dawn they rose. Returning from performing his morning necessities Vetch spotted a larger-than-usual dust-devil not far away. Looking closer he saw in or near the spiral of sand a figure. Rather than lie down and cover up, the sensible action if caught in a sand storm, the figure was determinedly battling through the dust and seemed to be heading in their direction. After some time the figure disappeared. Vetch watched as the dust-devil moved on and thought he could make out the figure lying in the sand. He mentioned it to the others as they ate their breakfast, and Brol said that as it appeared to be on their way they should investigate. After packing up and struggling with the irritable pack-beast they set off.
The figure was lying not far from the edge of the road. Brol and Thok went to investigate and found a single person covered with a protective sheet of some slick material half covered in blown sand and apparently unconscious. Brol cautiously lifted a corner of the sheet and saw underneath what seemed to be a female human. Brol and Thok pulled back the sheet and as they did so the woman stirred. Brol looked quizzically up at Thok who held out his water-flask. The woman opened her eyes, started in alarm and scrabbled at the sand for a moment, looking wildly around. Thok held the flask out again, and the woman raised herself on one elbow. She drank greedily, choked, and sat up. She looked the two mutants up and down, and they looked back. “Not them, anyway,” she said hoarsely, drank sparingly, and held the flask which Thok took. She stood up, swaying slightly, and Brol noted her strange clothes. She was wearing a tight one-piece suit of a sandy colour which seemed to be made of the same strange material as the sheet. She had a gun of some sort on her belt, and a small pouch. Bending, she picked up the sheet and began to fold it smaller and smaller until it fitted easily into the pouch. She looked around the sand where she had been lying, and Brol thought he heard her mutter ”Respirator”. Appearing to recollect herself she stood up straight and said formally, “Theodora Fane, sergeant, National Recovery Agency”. Thok turned to look at Brol and his hoses swung gently. Brol looked puzzled. “National Recovery Agency?”
Fane looked confused then said, “We were brought out of stasis and sent to . . . sent out on a mission. Our vehicle was attacked and crashed. I think I was the only one to get away.”
She looked up the road. “Which way were you heading?”
Thok pointed and she said “There’s safety in numbers. Mind if I accompany you?”
The two led the newcomer back to where the others waited on the road. Vetch and Akim Jart greeted the newcomer with caution, and after she had introduced herself in the same formal way they more or less ignored her. Sutek, who had been standing staring fixedly northwards up the road all through the rescue and arrival of the stranger, suddenly stalked up to her, and raised his staff to make a pass over Fane’s head. She watched Sutek’s actions with curiosity and apparent amusement. Evidently satisfied, Sutek set off along the road at a leisurely pace and the others, collecting their packs, followed.
Fane fell in alongside Brol. “Is he always like this?” she asked, nodding at Sutek.
“Always,” replied Brol with a laugh.
From Dust:
Introduction
http://www.spodilicious.com/from-dust-introduction.html
Prologue
http://www.spodilicious.com/from-dust-prologue.html
Chapter 1 - The Trademaster
http://www.spodilicious.com/from-dust-chapter-1---the-trademaster.html
Chapter 2 - The Wretched
http://www.spodilicious.com/from-dust-chapter-2---the-wretched.html
Chapter 3 - The Device
http://www.spodilicious.com/from-dust-chapter-3---the-device.html
Chapter 4 - Tucamari
http://www.spodilicious.com/from-dust-chapter-4---tucamari.html
