Early in the evening, there was a knocking at the door.
I was seated at my desk, going over a new map I had come by. It showed the Black River’s tributaries; Dura sat on one of the minor ones. I looked over the Mist; there was a sketch of Cthulhu and not much else. For a place few dared to enter, we all got our water from inside it. As such, it can't have been that bad. Why had no one mapped it? Probably just stupid fear and superstition.
Zana, I had set to cleaning the room. Usually Uru sent up a serving slave in the evening to attend to it–and of course any of my other ‘needs'-but it was good to put Zana to real chores. On her hands and knees near my feet, she scrubbed the floor with a brush. Her throat was still in the heavy collar. It was good to make her feel what most other slaves did.
I looked up at the knock. It wasn’t timid as a slave’s.
“Shall I answer it?” Zana stopped and regarded me.
“No,” I stood and went to open the door.
Standing on the other side of it was the older, fifth traveler, in the group that had been sitting at the large table.
“Hail and well met, Sell-Sword," he began. There was steel in his voice. "I am Rindar, a Slaver. May I present to you proposal towards joint profit?"
"Hi, Rindar. That depends. Will it be dangerous?”
“Somewhat, yes.”
“Then come in.”
Zana quickly disappeared into a corner, kneeling, head down, hands on her knees. Slaves are invisible unless needed.
Rindar studied the maps on my wall as I pulled him up a chair.
“All of these,” he settled into the seat, “they show interest in where we may not tread.”
“May not safely tread,” I sat. “People have crossed the Mist Wall.”
“They have entered it. None know what fortunes followed venture most foolhardy.”
“Maybe they liked it so much there, they didn’t come back.”
The man's creased face smiled, and he shook his head.
“I do not petition that you join me in doomed but no doubt wondrous quest, but instead purpose less grand–but of proven worth. Have you been to Red Water?”
“I have not, sir," I snapped my fingers at Zana, "Wine, Slave."
The Shang female immediately got to her feet. She took a jug of wine from the shelf and poured two cups. She handed one to each us; we took them without looking at her. Then, she sat back in her corner, holding the jug at the ready.
“Red Water is but humble tributary of the great, Black River. It is to the east, six days travel by boat. There are no towns there; the soil is cursed with red clay,” he held up his cloak and showed me its dusty end. “There is little that honest farmer or whipped girl can do to bring forth bounty there. All surrounding it is wilderness; beasts of horn and claw. The mating calls of Shoggoths have been heard in the nights. The wasteland stretches further than the eyes of giants may see. But,” he smiled, “it is where the Landing Beasts arrive.”
I immediately sat up.
"The Landing Beasts? Sorry, I didn't think you were that kind of slaver."
"Pray tell, what sort did you think I was? Do I present image of man too old and feeble to hunt beneath the very noses of the gods themselves?"
"Yes, you do."
He laughed.
"In truth, I am, but I still lead our expeditions. That is why I am here, to find younger, stronger men that I may commission to work."
"I have not seen any postings at the bounty house for work at slave camps."
"Slaving is long and tedious work. It has its pleasures, but many men must come together and work long and disciplined hours for weeks. Bounty hunters and sellswords are rarely apt for such tasks. Yet, so near to the Mist Wall, slave camps are always in danger. Men such as you excel in the face of danger."
"Why me? There are plenty of sellswords up and down the river."
"You spared a man who came to visit grievous injury upon your person."
"It would've been pointless to do so." I took a sip of wine.
"See? That is judgment rare in those in your line of work. It is your judgment that I am more interested in, then simply your way with the sword-though that is not inconsiderable.”
He cleared his throat before continuing.
“Our seer has foreseen that a Landing Beast will arrive a few days hence, in an area of the Red River where we have camped before. The larger part of our group has already traveled there, renewing an old campsite of ours. My comrades and I stopped in town to gather needed supplies. We will work at Red Water until the coming of the new moon. Join us and serve well, and you will take home a share of the profit in gold and in slaves. Do these terms meet with your favor, Gerard of house Stone?"
"When do we leave?"
"In the morning, at dawn." He stood up. "I will see you at the dock then."
***
I spent the rest of the evening preparing for my departure. I sent down the surprised (and somewhat miffed) Zana with a note for Uru and a downpayment for my rent until my return. I packed for the journey and polished my weapons.
Landing Beasts! I wondered if we would get a chance to see one up close. Most of them crashed beyond the mist wall in the battlegrounds of the guards. As they hit the atmosphere, Landing Beasts begin to disintegrate; shedding "eggs" as they are called. It is these eggs which appear like glittering lights behind them in the night sky.
Hibernating inside (most of) them, are human captives. About half the eggs burn up in the atmosphere, or overshoot and are lost in the sea. The other half survive reentry and are scattered in a wide landing zone. I had survived re-entry in one such egg, landing not far from here.
I was lucky: I'm a man. Men are very uncommon cargo, though some say men and women were evenly mixed in the deep past. As such, we are seen as good luck charms or signs of the favor of some god or the other. Had I been a woman-well. I was about to find out firsthand what happened to women who awoke into this world on this side of the Mist Wall. A slave camp!
Too excited to sleep, I went for a walk. Many people were still out, mainly traders and revelers. It was a prosperous settlement; a reasonable distance from danger yet well placed for trade. I wondered if Rindar would have us come back here when all was done.
"Already, he walks the streets like a vagrant with no gold in his pouch but the weight of lead instead it seems," I heard a man call out.
It was Scar; I was passing his metal works.
"Go home and get some sleep old man. You can't afford to fall ill; antibiotics haven't been invented yet."
"Would that I had sense to do so," he wiped his hands on his apron. "But I heard that you were leaving on an expedition, and thought I would make a little gift for you."
"That's very kind of you, Sir!" I was touched. "You didn't have to do anything like that."
"Nonsense," he waved me over.
He picked up something about as long as the distance between my elbow and my wrist. It was wrapped in a piece of soft leather. I unrolled it: inside was a thin length of iron that ended in a shape like a letter "X." However, there was a snake-like pattern superimposed on it; it was the letter in High Common for "G."
"You are a slaver now, but what is a slaver without a branding iron? Those who look upon the girls you mark with these will know that you, Gerard of House Stone, was the one who taught them to kneel."
"Scar, thank you so much. This was most kind of you." I turned the brand this way and that, looking at it in the firelight that came from his workshop's entrance. It was widespread for slave girls to be branded on the thigh with the "X" design. However, there were variances in the style of that design to denote the personal work of a particular slaver or slave camp.
"It is nothing, and after all, you may use it so badly that only the "X" shows. That is why I have designed it in this manner, to hide what clumsiness your hands may prove too simple to overcome."
"Unless it falls apart once I put it in the fire." I wrapped it back up and tucked it under my arm. "Have you ever been to the Red River region, Scar?"
"I must confess not," the man shook his head. "Slave camps are far deeper in the Borderlands then most sane men would dare tread. The further they are, the greater the gain-and the risk. You will see ruins of old camps, destroyed not by time but servants of the Gods."
"The maps I have suggest that there is still plenty of distance between the Red River and the Mist Wall. Going there, I will be able to test how accurate they are, and add some more detail in, myself."
"There is a reason, foolish man, that the Mist Wall is avoided. Some say that it is there so that we simply cannot see what happens across it. Our very minds will break at the sight of the intentions and horror of the Gods themselves."
"There are no Gods, Scar. Just creatures we do not understand, that people need to stop worshiping and making sacrifices to. Especially human sacrifices."
"I will not be dragged into this blasphemy again," he wagged his finger at me and turned back to the workshop. "Come and share a drink, Friend. For tomorrow, like a rat hiding in the wall, you will dart out to steal crumbs that fall in from the table of greater beings."