Frays In The Weave 11 Departure: 3

Gring watched the mood of Nakora's troops deteriorate over the coming eightdays. It was money, as always the glittering coins meaning more to the halfmen than honour Whenever halfmen perceived a lack of money they immediately resorted to a total absence of honour—would go to almost any length to grab the s.h.i.+ny metal that meant almost as much to them as the right to decide over the lives of their brethren.

Gring growled and ran. If the conversation she had overheard was anything to go by then things might get out of hand soon. The tribe Nakora belonged to had mastered the enslavement of their females to a degree where being female was in itself a reason to be abused. That, Gring once believed, was the case with all halfmen, but the men from Keen under command of Trindai thought otherwise, and so did the outworlders. They almost behaved honourably, something that was hard for her to accept, but so it was, and in the absence of Arthur she preferred to be among half decent halfmen as long as she was denied the company of proper humans.

The thought of her own made her wonder what had happened in the town from where they were jumped to Gaz when she was still a captive together with Arthur and the child, Chaijrild. Dishonour, a grave insult to anything proper had marked their forced visit there, and with thousands of armed halfmen descending on them they were probably all dead by now. That was, she admitted, in order, but she couldn't help worrying about the implications. Each decade saw fewer and fewer humans and with an army from Braka bent on revenging the injustice done to a taleweaver thousands more would die during the summer. One on one a human warrior was more than a match for any but the very best trained of the halfmen, but in large battle formations the cowardly oath breakers reigned superior, and Gring had no illusions about the outcome of the coming war. It would be slaughter unless aid from Gaz arrived in time. Such help, though, was unlikely to come, even if a truth seer from Gaz had been involved.

The memory made Gring growl again. Kharg, not Truth seer Vailinin, was behind the dishonourable act of trying to kill a taleweaver, and Kharg was as human as she. No, there would be no intervention from Gaz, not this time.

Gring ran on over wet, gra.s.sy ground, still hard and frozen where the ground frost hadn't thawed. Soon spring would be here for real, the ground would soften and trailing wagons were sure to be mired in mud before the heat of summer baked the ground hard enough again to bear the weight of hundreds of wagons. Maybe, just maybe, the warmth and greenery that was to come would lift the mood of the halfmen enough to make them withstand the ordeals, but halfmen were weak in body as well as in will, and she didn't dare to raise her hopes too much.

She pa.s.sed the strange equipment wagon the outworlder soldiers called hovercraft and waved. They had captured it from the renegade outworlders in Belgera. The driver, a female halfman named Elizabeth Chang who never ceased describing the marvels of her home, the unimaginably vast city of Shanghai, whenever she had a chance, waved back. The halfmen were always p.r.o.ne to ridiculous embellishments of their own achievements, and the outworlders were worse than most. The driver was worst of them all, always boasting about the grandest building ever made housing more halfmen than any city existing here.

Gring ran on, spreading her hands in silent denial of the madness the outworlders said was everyday wonders where they came from, but she knew that at least some of it had to be true. Arthur had Woven while they were still captives of Kharg.

Now Gring needed to talk with Trindai. Nakora had helped save her and she was honour bound to help Harbend's mate. Gring knew that Trindai had received as many coins as Nakora, but he and his men spent very few of them. Maybe he could be convinced to help.