Redd and the Wyld: Chapter 4

After another day, the underpass opened into a flat, barren field of strange rock formations reaching to the sky among a blood red valley.  The Wyldlands.
         Marcello had changed into a green cape and hat, and was looking around. "This is the Wyldlands?" he said.
         "Yep." Josua replied. "Hot as hell and just about as hospitable."
         "Tel and Josua, you scout ahead," Redd told them. He was clutching a short bow and arrow, as were the other men. Despite Josua's warnings about looking threatening to the Wyld, Redd was not about to give them a free shot just to mollify some red-headed barbarian. "Marcello, take Josua's place on the lead wagon. Don't argue, boy, just do it! Rest of you keep close and to the sides" Marcello sulked, but eventually took the reins while Josua climbed onto Marcello's roan.
         "Let's get moving," Latrelle said, as soon as Marcello had his seat alongside her. "Now!" she screamed, hitting Marcello over the head with her fan when he moved to slow for her.
         The party kept up a brisk pace. The men around the van were tough, competent men for the most part, but the Wyldlands shrank them into little more than city dogs. Redd didn't want to think about what they would look like should the Wyld appear. Think about what you can control, and leave the rest for later, he thought. 
         Redd spent the time keeping his horse up with Latrelle's frenzied pace as she egged on the young boy. Poor Marcello, thought Redd: he comes out for a grand adventure and ends up the driver for a high strung merchant.  Latrelle set a pace like every hour, every minute reduced the price of her wares and that of the canbis.  It ended up as a constant battle between Redd and Latrelle as to when they would stop before the horses stepped into a hole they couldn't see because of the encroaching dawn. Near sundown, Tel and Josua, headed back to where they had finally stopped.
         "We found a pond," Tel told Redd, tossing him a skin. Redd caught it in mid-air, and drank its last contents. "We're getting low on water."
         "You found a pond here?" Latrelle said. "I thought the Wyldlands were all waste and sand, no water at all."
         "It's not much of anything, just a little underground creek in the back of a cave," Tel said. "Josua smelled it before we even got close." Josua waved a hand as he got down, a dismissing thing.
         "All right, why didn't you fill the skins when you were there?" Redd asked. Tel went back to the last wagon and started removing more skins.
         "Thought we should get all of them filled at once," Tel replied. "Hey, why doesn't Marcello come with us? We could use a young back." At that Marcello jumped down from the wagon and looked at Redd expectantly. "Come on, Redd, don't be such a mama, Marcello came out here to get some experience."
         "Could I, Redd?" Marcello pleaded. Redd thought for a minute.
         "All right," the look on Marcello's face was pure exultation. "But you four get enough water to get us out of here and come right back. Nothing else!" He had promised to watch the kid, but the kid had to get some experience on his own, and what could go wrong filling water skins? Marcello nodded eagerly.  Tel put one beefy arm across Marcello's shoulder. "I'll care for him like my own brother."
         Great, Redd thought sarcastically, At least there aren't any bordellos or taverns out here. Tel was one of Cenn's muscle men, good for a riot or a beating and not much else.  He turned toward Josua, who was setting up camp. "Aren't going with them?" he asked.
         "Tel knows what to do, and I want to rest up," he said. He pulled out a book and an ink pen and plopped himself against the back of a wagon. "And as far as I am concerned, this is my time, leave me alone."  Redd obliged him and went to talk Latrelle, who was bringing down a tent.
         "You aren't arguing?" he asked. "I thought you'd be screaming about us stopping while there is still light." He pointed to the west, where a tiny bit of light still glared over the rocks, playing with the shadows.
         Latrelle sniffed. "I am not so much a fool as you would think," she answered. "I want speed, but I want to get there in one piece, and I do not think that I could carry all of those plants. Nor could you, all apologies to your youth," she said.          
         That statement rankled—she was younger than his twenty years—but what he said was, "And would you tell me where you got all these canbis plants? They grow fierce on the coast, but never with that strength?"
         She smiled up at him. "I will, if you tell me one thing?" she asked.
         "All right,"
         "Did you actually pull down Selene's shop by yourself?" she said. "You don't look that strong."
         "Used a couple of oxen," he shrugged. "I pulled out the beams and the rest gave way immediately. Now, where are those canbis from?"  Redd and Selene quickly set up the tent, then went over to the fire to rest.
         "I grew them," she said when they were finally settled down. "An old hash eater gave me some seeds in exchange for a debt. He claimed that this was a far better plant than others. I felt sorry for the man so I took them, but later on, I wondered. I tried it, a few times," she shrugged. "It was difficult for me to quit, so I imagine it will be next to impossible for an addict. Cenn told me you were one for brash action. You know, you really should plot out your revenge a bit more carefully."
         "And what is that supposed to mean?" Redd had his hands on his hips.
         "I mean, you should wait until the other person has forgotten, when they are convinced the danger is over." She sat on a chair Redd had brought down. "That way, you can inflict shock as well as humiliation."
         "What good is revenge when the person you target doesn't even remember?" Redd shrugged. He squatted on the ground. "Besides which, I wanted her to know, along with every other person in the Market district. You get a reputation as a pushover, and everybody wants to cheat you."
         "As opposed to the reputation of a hothead," Latrelle said. "Remember what that got you. An early entry into the priesthood, and you do not look so pious to me."
         He remembered.

         Two men walked down a badly lit side street of Cibola, on the West End far from the Isle. One had a patch of copper brown hair on the top of his head as well as a neatly trimmed goatee and a pair of glasses. The second was taller, if stooped over, dressed in a white priest's robe with the cowl pulled up so nobody could see his face.
         "I can't believe we're doing this," The man in the white cloak said. "Cenn I'm a thief, not a merchant's guard."
         "What you are is dead if I don't get you out of town," Cenn told him. Sweat spots marked his white shirt. Though he looked a shade overweight, Cenn Garcia had not made it in the world of the Organization through avarice. A scar crossed the opening of his shirt, giving a hint of wounds suffered in half a dozen street fights and Deathbox duels. They stopped in front of a merchant's store. The lights were all on, in contrast to most of the other places. Cenn opened the door. As soon as they were in, Redd lowered his hood.
         "So that woman is the capo's lover, big deal," Redd said. "Donatellan has more lovers than I do shirts." Women had been the reason Donatellan had entered the Organization rather than the army; he wanted to impress a woman he was desperately trying to seduce into bed. And women were the reason why he was still the best, killing off anybody he thought of as a rival with the coldness of a snake.
         "He's taken a liking to Selene, boy, says he enjoys her singing afterwards." Cenn snapped. "I could have told you that, but no, you were so hot to take her down a notch you may have worked yourself into the noose."
         "He enjoys her singing," Redd said in a mocking tone. "Hopefully he doesn't leave any valuables around where she can sneak them out afterwards."
         "Worry less about what she sneaks out, and more about you sneaking out of the city alive and in one piece."
         "I still say this will not work. I've kept myself clear of the Patryn before, nobody's ever caught me," he told Cenn somewhat boastfully. Cenn shook his head with an indication of how he felt about the boy's disbelief in his own mortality.
         "This is the first time you have angered a capo, and few men do that and live," Cenn replied. "Until I can get him calmed down, you need to make yourself scarce," He leaned over the wooden counter and strained to look in the back room. "Now where is she?"
         "I didn't expect you so shortly," Both Cenn and Redd jumped at the female voice behind them. A woman in a fine blue coat climbed through a door in the floor both men had ignored. She was pretty, and her curls framed a perfectly white face. "You must be Cenn, and...Redd?" she laughed. "Such a young man to mouth the words of the gods."
         "We heard that you required some assistance of the Organization in a certain affair," Cenn said.  "Delivering...carpets?"
         "Yes", she said, pointing to the hatch. "Down there, gentlemen, where you may see the...carpets."
         All three went down, and the woman—who gave her name as Latrelle—lit a lantern and handed it to Redd. Below, he could see several rows of plants in pots. Canbis plants; otherwise known as the fumes. She slapped Redd's hand away where it bumped against the low floor.
         "Careful," she told him. "There are sun runes up there drawn just so by a man who knew what he was doing, and I am not so well versed to repair them."
         "So you wish us to escort you?" Cenn said.
         "Yes, to Panem Dea." she said. "This crop will sell for great amounts among their mine workers and border guards. Have a taste of it for yourself." she offered a pipe to Redd.
         "Interesting, but I am told that there is an overabundance of...whoa!" The effects of the drug hit Redd. It was total and complete euphoria. He backed up, and Cenn had to hold him up to keep him from landing on his rear.
         "You see?" Latrelle smiled. "This is no ordinary Divine Mist."
         "Where did you get it?" Cenn asked. For some reason, Redd found Cenn's tone of voice slightly funny. He started laughing, and Cenn knocked him on the back of the head. He settled down, but still had some problems fighting a grin.
         "I would not tell you my secrets, sir, but I would offer you a trade for them," she said. "A third of the profit from this trip for safe passage to and from Panem Dea. This will not be the only time, and the same terms will apply each time.  A merchant earns more in the long term than in one trip."
         "Tame serms?" Redd said, and laughed. Cenn rolled his eyes.
         "Half, my good madam. I must pay the organization itself, and for the guards."
         "All right, four tenths, and you take care of the guards."
         "Agreed," Cenn said. "But we choose the market. I have a man up there who will get you twice of what you think you can get on your own."
         "A man!" Latrelle said.  Typical Cibolan attitude; only women were merchants, and they thought down on any man who thought he could get a better deal than they could. But she finally agreed.
         "Come on, Redd," Cenn said, leading Redd back up the ladder. "We have to recruit a party." It took Redd two tries to start up. He turned back to Cenn.
         "Do we have time to get something to eat?"
         "Now, Redd."


         "Do you remember much of that night?" Latrelle asked him. Redd nodded.
         "I lost a bit of it until Cenn put some food in me," he said. "I gulped down two whole chickens without even noticing." She lit a pipe and smoked it, then passed it to him. Not the canbis, however. That was for sale.
         "I'm not saying this because I am any friend of Selene," she said. "She is rumored to use short weight and shoddy crafts with customers, and that brings down the rest of us. But I suppose she has enough money to rebuild her shop. She says she has a man who is powerful in her bed, and he will not let her starve."
         "That's not the only problem she faces," Redd grinned. "I can imagine by now she's trying to explain to some very angry Patryn how a large stash of temple ornaments got into her possession."
         "Won't this man shield her?" Redd shook his head.
         "Short weighting the customers, that's one thing, but not even thieves of the Organization will dare steal from a holy place, or protect one who does and is caught. No, I'm afraid Selene will be the guest of honor at a flogging." Redd looked up at the night sky.
         "What is this Roberto di Cilla like?" Selene asked. "I still do not believe he can get me a better market than I could myself."
         Redd put his hands behind his head. "The best way to describe Roberto is...well, Roberto is Roberto."
         "That does not tell me much?" she said, frowning.
         "Put it to you this way, Roberto makes other Cibolans complain about fussiness," Redd told her. "He was Cenn's tenante when I was ten, but Cenn had to send him up north because nobody could deal with the man. He was a stickler for detail, and expected everybody else around him to be the same way. He had to use exactly one hundred strokes on his beard in exactly the right way. One off, and he would start the whole thing over again."
         "Sounds crazy." she said.  Redd nodded.
         "There was a story about Roberto shortly before he left for Panem Dea," he told her. "One night, Cenn sent him out to retrieve an object from the treasure room of a minor lord. He was there the entire night, and barely escaped as the nobleman entered the room."
         "He couldn't locate it?" she said.
         "No, he found it in ten minutes, but Roberto was so repulsed by the man's untidiness that he spent the rest of the night rearranging and cleaning the room!" Redd laughed. "The running joke going was that when that noble finally found Roberto, he wouldn't know whether to hang him or make him his chief chamberlain."
         "And that is the person who will be our middleman?"
         "Roberto is odd, but he's the best negotiator and border man around, not to mention a great tenante protecting the wealth of Cenn," Redd said. "The reason Cenn chose him as tenante was that he figured out who was stealing from him before anybody else did because the thief just so happened to be twenty minutes late for his meal. Roberto noticed that he ate at always the same hour with the same exact meal. That led to him backtracking the man and finding a hidden bag of gold.  That was that man's last dinner. He'll get you a good price for your plants. He can sense the slightest thing wrong in any sort of deal, and he's a stickler for remembering details that other men forget."
         "And that business with only carrying exactly 50 of the plants?"  Latrelle asked.
         "That's Roberto. He will not deal in odd numbers. Which is why when you get there, make sure to bring in the plants two at a time, and arrange them balanced on the table." Same goes with the carpets, and everything else. If you have an extra, stuff it for now. We'll get them in some other way, but don't offend the man's sensibilities."
         "You criminals have a strange world," Latrelle said.
         "All humans are strange, ma'am, it just depends on how much." He said. "I wonder where Tel and the others are."
         "You know, we do have some time alone, and I prefer your company to that of that pig Tel." She got up, and grabbed his hand. "Would you care to join me in my tent?"
         Redd smiled. "Never thought you would ask." He walked to her tent. When they were in Latrelle pushed herself into his lips, and then drug him down to the ground.


         Redd awoke to a hideous roar. Quickly he clothed himself while Latrelle slept contentedly under the sheets. That had been good; now he knew what made Tel so eager. Outside, he saw that Josua stood beside the lead wagon, a bow in his hands.
         Redd ran up to him. "You heard that thing too?" he asked. "Damn it if our luck didn't run out. I wonder if the Wyld killed Tel and the others already."  Even though his voice was calm, he felt panic in his chest. Marcello was out there as well.
         Josua shook his head. "Something is wrong." he muttered. "That wasn't the Wyld."
         "How do you know that?" Redd demanded.
         "It just is!" he said, then shook himself. "All the writers say that the Wyld shriek was high-pitched and deafening. This one was low."
         Again the roar came. Redd now could hear it better. Josua was right: this sounded like the roar of one of those black-haired beasts in the menagerie that he visited as a child.
         There was a ruffle, and Latrelle was standing next to them wrapped in a shawl. For such a complicated dress, she sure could get into it as fast as she got out of it. "The Wyld?" she asked.
         "No," Redd told her, "At least Josua doesn't think so."
         "And besides, the Wyld only unleashed that yell when they were upon their foes and they had arrows flying.  Too early, and they gave their enemy the time to prepare," Josua cocked his head. "Men on horseback are coming. About four."
         Tel, Marcello and the others returned. Marcello looked especially sick, hanging onto his pommel like a hale man. "You heard it too?" Tel said, his eyes darting everywhere.
         "What took you so long?" Redd demanded. Tel smiled in an odd way. He pushed a white tulip down toward Redd.
         "Went plucking flowers," he said. "These looked pretty enough to give to Latrelle." He looked behind to see her, took in Redd's undressed, and laughed. "Guess I'm a little too late to be courting. Ah well, what can you say?"
         Marcello slid off his horse and went around the wagons. Redd thought he could hear a retching sound.
         "Didn't Josua tell you not to take anything!" he shouted. "Never mind, everybody sleeps on two hours tonight, and everybody keeps their bow and spear nearby." He left the men and went around the wagon.
         Behind it, Marcello was leaned over, one hand on the wagon for support. "Are you sick?" Redd asked. "If that water is bad, we're really in for it now.  Redd noticed a pile of vomit near Marcello's feet.
         "No, I'm good," Marcello said, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. "I just suppose I ate something that didn't agree with me." He still looked shaken, but he held himself up. "Redd, where are the Hel pigeons?"
         "Back wagon, why, you feeling a need to write home?" he asked.
         "Just, something I need to tell my brother. He may have forgotten about my cats," with that, he walked all the way around.
         "Suit yourself," Redd muttered. He was still skeptical, but went on back. Most of the men were falling down to bed. Only Josua remained standing. "You want to take the first watch?" he asked Josua. Josua nodded.
         "So you still don't believe me?" Joshua said. "I will admit, it's hard to write what a sound sounds like on paper."
         "No, I believe you, which is why I'm setting up the guards." He looked around into the starlit darkness. "If that wasn't the Wyld, it means we have two things to worry over. Picking flowers," Redd shook his head. "I suppose next he'll be singing his love of Latrelle in a voice that the Wyld couldn't help but hear."
         Josua looked at him for a moment, then said slowly, "Redd, there weren't any flowers on the path to the cave, and certainly none that looked like that in the cave."