Emily, Foskan Army Camp

The trickle of sweat running down my forehead pooled where my glasses were jammed against the bridge of my nose and then ran down the inside of the lens as I tried not to make a sound breathing. I was crouched down behind the water heater in the back of the linen closet, listening to the sound of gunfire out in the Plaza de Armas. The Rondas were breaking down the doors in the hotel looking for anyone they thought was one of the guerrillas. Men yelling and women screaming were punctuated by bursts of automatic weapons. The door to the room banged open. "Chúpate este!" Gunshots spewed across the room, through the flimsy walls, into the water heater, next to my head, the taste of blood in my mouth...

Galt's raspy tongue cleaned the blood off my face and his soft fluffy paws put my glasses back on, "you're not there anymore, Cara mia, wake up now..."

I sat up straight in my bedroll, my hand feeling the place to the right of my pillow for my glasses case. Then I remembered I didn't have glasses in this world. My heart was still racing. That October night in Ayacucho in 1990 was one of my least favorite nightmares. Was that really Galt waking me up or did I just dream that?

"Yes." Galt purred in my ear. Damn cat god.

It was obvious I was getting no more sleep for the time being. I could smell baking bread in the camp ovens so it was not too far from daybreak. I pulled on enough clothes to be decent, grabbed my ankle boots, belt, and my hooded Shrine of Mugash mantle since it was a bit nippy out, and silently stepped around the sleeping lumps of Fassex and Instay on my way out of the pavilion.

I startled the poor door guards, especially when I sat down at the door flap into the pavilion to pull on my boots. I got up to put on my belt, which was still too loose, not that I would admit that to anyone but myself. I remembered to hang the fire opal tablet Imstay gave me last night from its special leather holder on a bronze belt hook. It functioned as a pass for walking about the camp. Pulling on the mantle, I took off for wherever that wonderful bread smell was coming from.

I found the bread operation and it was impressive. Fifty handmade brick and cob ovens were all fired up, with wood fires in the lower chamber and round loaves loaded in the domed top chamber. The smell was glorious. Making sure I wasn't in the way, I spent quite a while just eating the smell of all that baking sourdough.

I noted that some of the baker's hands were setting up tables in a row and heading my way. Before I had time to move, a pair of flour-crusted hands picked me up. The hands gently carried me to a flour barrel in a pile of baking supplies near the ovens, where they put me down.

"Sorry, Great One, but we're about to distribute the morning bread and I don't want you to get stepped on," a raspy baritone informed me. "It's about to get busy. You'll be out of the way here." Before I had a chance to thank him, he walked back to the confusion of setting up tables and moving bread loaves. I could tell from the way he was shouting orders and moving people around that he was one of the people in charge of the bread operation.

Soon pairs of soldiers and guards formed a line, each one carrying a net which the bakers filled with bread loaves at the direction of a clerk with a tablet. One or two people from each group in the encampment collected the bread for distribution to other members of their group. It was a rather grand form of mayhem though I was amazed how much bread was handed out. It had to have been thousands of loaves. I should have tried to count. No wonder bakers got up so early. It had to take a lot of time to bake that much bread.

The sky was growing light in the east behind the mountains when the line finally slowed down. The man with the raspy voice came back. He sure looked like a baker: white tunic, rolled up sleeves, big white apron, big white bandana tying his hair back, and flour all over him. He smelled like fresh bread. That's a smell I think any sensible woman could fall in love with.

"Rumor has it," he produced a white cotton cloth from behind his apron with something wrapped up in it, "that a certain person who sometimes hangs out in the queen's apartments has a weakness for this." He produced one of those incredibly yummy egg-bacon-onion rolls with the sharp cheese baked into the bread that they make in the palace in Is'syal. He handed it to me. In a fit of greed, I had a mouthful even before I thought to say thank you first.

I chewed and swallowed as quickly as I could. "Thank y...you. W...wow. This is as good as the ones in the palace." I hoped that made up for the bad manners just then.

"Well, thank you for the compliment. By the way, I'm Emoskos, the head baker in the palace." He folded his arms, leaned against the barrel, and beamed a satisfied smile.

"You are w...welcome," I took another bite. "Itfs gooffd."

He retied the cloth and turned it into a secure bundle, pulled two cloth loops through my belt, and tied them together. "There, you can take those back with you to snack on."

"Thank you."

"If you're still here tomorrow, I'll have some ready. Garki comes by every morning to get the baked goods for the King's pavilion. I can send them with him. Speaking of Garki, there he is now, coming down the path. If you want to head back, stay here and he'll take you. Or if you're out right now for a walk, head between that stack of flour barrels over there and the path you find in back will take you to the north gate through some very pleasant fields where the mounts are pastured."

"Help down, please?" I smiled up at him. Emoskos was alright. He gave me a lift down and waved as I disappeared down between the flour barrels. The pathway to the north gate was every bit as nice as described. I hoped to see Asgotl. I climbed up the fence to the top rail and looked around for several minutes but didn't see any griffins in the twilight that looked like him. Giving up, I strolled out to the north gate. I was feeling a bit wobbly by the time I got there so I found a comfortable tree trunk to lean against and happily watched the traffic in and out of the gate. The gate officer's pavilion was on the opposite side of the road into the camp so if I needed help to get back to the King's pavilion, I didn't have to go far to get some.

The sun was just breaking over the mountain tops, sending long shadows, making the shadows of the Cosm at the gate into the silhouettes of grotesque monsters. A Coyn and a Coyn-scaled horse, or maybe it was a pony, came toward the gate at a canter, pulling up just before the gate and walking the rest of the way.

Oh boy, I'd take this young man home with me in a second on looks alone. Copper red hair in a long braid down his back, green eyes, broad shoulders, strong chin, neat ring beard and mustache, strong hands, cute butt. Yep, I could look at this gent all day. Definitely eye candy.

"Welladay, I am Py'oask, stores manager for the Villa on an errand to the camp on a matter of some urgency about a shipment of grain. Can you please direct me to the quartermaster or the head of the bakers?" He took a fire opal tablet off the hook on his belt and held it out for inspection to the two soldiers barring the gate. I knew by now that only the King and Queen gave out tablets of fire opal, so Py'oask must work directly for Aylem on her estate.

I saw the young silverhaired gate officer in her pavilion to the side of the gate looking up from her work table with interest at the exchange. Her light blue guards' tunic had the light grey and black facings of Aybhas. I didn't realize until now that there were some Aybhas folks here.

"Look here, runtman, we can't be wasting our time with every jolly tale spinner at our gate. Where's your letter of authorization?" the shorter of the two soldiers started harassing the Coyn.

The Coyn had pulled out the top of a stalk of wheat from inside his tunic and held it up. The taller half-haired soldier swore at the sight of it. "Shut your mouth, Stymos. You don't know crap from clap."

The stalk of wheat got my attention too and despite feeling a bit on the uncertain side, I got up and walked over, pulling my fire opal tablet off my belt. I held it up to the taller soldier and then the Coyn on his pony. "May I see that pl...please?"

Py'oask handed it down to me. "Claviceps purpurea, also known as ergot, commonly called the purple grain rust in Foskos," I said, studying the purple horn-shaped fruiting bodies of the fungus growing on the wheat, a thing I had only seen in pictures before now. "W...when did this shipment of grain leave and w...when is it expected here?"

"Today, and it's flour ready to use, not grain," Py'oask said, looking relieved that the problem was being taken seriously. "It left yesterday morning from our mill. When the miller came with the stalks they found on the milling floor, I left immediately and swam a few canals to try to get here before it arrived. I've been riding without stop and now that I'm here, could someone help me with my poor mount? She needs some care because I'm afraid I pushed her too hard."

The gate officer came striding out of her pavilion, "Willikos!"

"Coming!" Another guard came running out in Aybhas facings, half-haired, about thirty.

"This gentleman's pony has been ridden hard all night to get here," the officer pointed at Py'oask and the pony. Will you please take care of this poor beast properly and take it to the ground mount stable when you are done? The pony is the Queen's property so take all the time you need to do the job properly."

"Ma'am," Willikos saluted. She walked up to Py'oask and the pony. Py'oask dismounted and held the reins out to her.

"Thank you, sir. What's your mare's name?"

"She's Sweeper. There are some of her favorite parsnips in the right-side saddlebag."

"Got it. I'll take good care of her for you, sir," she took the reins and then felt the pony's neck and side. "Breathing is a little heavy but there's still sweat. She should be alright after a walk to cool off. Come on, girl, how about a nice stroll?" She clicked her tongue and two departed at the pony's walking pace.

The gate officer got on her knees in front of Py'oask and me. "May I see?" I handed her the wheat stalk. "Was the first of the wheat planted at harvest season?" she asked Py'oask.

"Yes," he answered with a grimace. "We just started milling four days ago. We're already looking at the rest of the fields and calling back all of the flour we've made, and are thankful it's just four days' worth. It would be bad if we had to burn the fields. We've already sent word to all the neighboring holds and farms."

"This needs to be reported to the Shrine of Mueb," the gate officer looked at me. "May I impose upon your resources to have word sent quickly to the shrine? Today, if possible?" She did a bowing obeisance which confused Py'oask who hadn't figured out who I was.

"I w...will endeavor to do so, though I need to get back to the royal pavilion first and I'm afraid I've already w...walked too far today." Py'oask looked even more confused since it was just after dawn.

"Yes, I saw you resting over by the tree across the way and was wondering how long it would take you to come over. You don't remember me, do you?" She smiled kindly.

"W...we've met?"

"Well, I was wearing my sallet at the time so half my face was covered, but we met on a gravel bar when a certain disabled soldier was valiantly protecting you from a rogue griffin with a piece of driftwood."

"Oh! you're the guard with the w...wax tablet?"

"That's me." She smiled. "I'm Leftenant Looxyas.

"Sorry about startling y...you w...with the stall turn," I apologized.

"I shouldn't have been following you so closely," she conceded. "It was some beautiful flying that griffin did."

I nodded, "he's a good griffin." I thought for a moment. "Do you know w...what happened to that homeless soldier? I sent someone from the shrine during the cold season to see how he w...was and if he needed help but he was gone."

"No one told you?" Lt. Looxyas asked. "Captain Tyoep got him a job at the garrison. Turns out he knows the queen's numbers. He now works in the quartermaster's office keeping the books. All he needed was a break and his brave defense of you did that for him."

"That's w...wonderful. That's good to know. I didn't know w...what happened to him and w...was afraid that he met an unhappy end. Did he ever take that lame foot to see a healer?"

"It wasn't a lame foot," Lt. Looxyas replied. "It was no foot at all. He was limping around with a broken prosthetic. He didn't know he was entitled to a new one, but the Captain got him all fixed up."

"It makes me happy to hear he is doing w...well," I smiled at one less worry in my life. "Py'oask, was it one wagon or more than one wagon of flour?"

"It was three wagons of flour in standard 400 stone barrels," he said. "It needs to be dumped in the river or burned."

"Hmmm," an idea came to life in my head, but I needed to check a few things out first, "not right away. Better to set the shipment aside until I can make some inquiries."

"If you are thinking about what I investigated last night," a musical bass answered my train of thought, "the answer is that we should talk to the King, but yes, set them aside for now with a guard." Usruldes appeared a few steps away. Py'oask flinched, Lt. Looxyas gasped, the two soldiers on gate duty turned white and I had to roll my eyes. What a ham that guy was.

He knelt next to the Leftenant and pulled out a flat leather wallet. He removed six small pieces of paper which were already impressed with his spider seal. Five levitated while he wrote on the sixth with what looked like a silverpoint stylus. He wrote: "I authorize Lt. Looxyas' orders concerning the three wagons of flour from the Villa." Then he dated it and drew a little hairy dot with eight little legs. As he wrote, his writing appeared on the other five pieces of paper.

He waved and the papers flew to his hand and he handed them to the leftenant. "I will trust you to find or intercept the three wagons of flour. There is one slip for the other gates, one for the quartermaster and one for the bakers, who you should send a runner to right away in the unlikely case the wagons beat Py'oask here. I would use the sixth slip to assign duty couriers to scout the roads between here and the Villa and locate those wagons. Just a suggestion."

He looked at Py'oask and turned back to the leftenant: "Please find Manager Py'oask a place to sleep today and tonight, see he gets fed too, and then see him on his way in the morning. If there are any problems with his arrangements, send word to the royal pavilion, and we will intervene. Ask for me by name and if I'm not there, ask for the King, who I will inform forthwith."

He turned his gray eyes on me. "Now, for you, young lady who went running around too much this morning already," he extended his arm, "grab my collar and hop on, and I'll take you back." I grabbed his collar, and he seated me on his arm and stood. "We can talk to the King about the contaminated flour and the phenol-whatever-you-call-it. Given that we have the high priestess Fassex in the camp, it should be easy to arrange a message to the Shrine of Mueb. That leftenant is quite on the ball in remembering that ag diseases must be reported as soon as possible."

I tried leaning back to see if I could see Py'oask and the leftenant, but my arm was too short, and Usruldes was too wide. Then a wave of lightheadedness hit me, and I swayed and almost lost my balance. Usruldes caught me before I fell. He shifted his grip and changed to carrying me in both arms.

"You managed to sneak out without waking anyone, so I have no idea how long you've been out running around," he scolded me lightly. "I know you walked almost all the way to the west side of camp because you were at bread ovens even before Garki arrived to get the bread for the royal pavilion. I know because Emoskos told Garki you already retrieved the rolls he made for you. From there, you walked to the north gate. No wonder you're falling over..."

I heard his voice continue to talk, but I faded in and out. I had a fuzzy memory of someone tucking me in. I slept until Aylem woke me.