Chapter 7

A town.

Not a village, hamlet, or small collection of dwellings. As the road exited the forest, Felek could see the low stone wall up ahead. Behind it, two and three-story buildings rose, Kikker in design (which, truth be told, was so similar to Polish structures as to be suspicious). Looking north and south, he saw a stream, either running behind or through the town. Farms and fly ranches filled the surrounding land.

Anelie held up her hand. The column stopped. Ahead, Felek could see at least two guards where the road entered the town. He turned to look behind him.

"Ruta," he said, loudly, "do we go across the stream, or do we follow it?"

"Through the town," Anelie guessed. Felek could only grin. Her pessimistic guesses had been right so far. Some day they would be wrong. Until then...

"Through, I think," came Ruta's reply. His grin turned into a frown. Swinging his horse around, he rode back to the first wagon. He reined in beside it.

"You think?"

Ruta looked at him, expression clearly confused, necklace held in her hand.

"I think. It's..." She looked into her hands. "I don't know." Ruta moved her hand a bit, pointing it north, then south. She looked up at the town. "I almost think we have to turn north once we're over the stream, and the town is confusing it."

"The town is confusing it." Ruta shrugged. Felek could not help but chuckle. "OK, then. I'm not surprised, somehow."

Anelie rode up beside him.

"Figure it out, yet?"

"Through, it looks like." He turned to look west, the sun already behind the trees. "They probably won't like us camping just outside their walls. Should we stay in the town tonight?"

Ruta's eyes lit up. She had not complained about the previous week's camping. Issa, yes, of course he had, if only in jest, but Ruta had transitioned to this new life quite easily. But, obviously, a change would be welcome. Felek looked at Anelie. She, too, was looking at the setting sun, then over towards the town.

Bogdi rode up to the impromptu gathering.

"Something going on?"

"We're considering splurging on a night in the town," Anelie told him. "It's money we don't need to spend, but..."

"I think," he interrupted softly, turning to look back at the second wagon, "it's a good idea." Felek followed his gaze. Adanya was looking back into the now covered wagon, obviously saying something to the kids. He nodded.

"We could use the break. Kikker beds aren't that bad."

"Topping off our supplies whenever we can is also probably a good idea," Anelie admitted. She nodded, as if she had just talked herself into it. "OK, let's go."

"Halt."

Felek reined in before the two Kikker guards. They stood in the center of the road, about ten feet ahead of where it passed through the stone wall. The wall was only about eight feet high, augmented a bit by the ditch dug before it. There was no drawbridge, the entrance protected by a simple wooden gate, now open. Wild animals were obviously the main enemy here. The guards wore blue rope tunics, falling down past their knees. The rope was thick, woven in such a way it probably did provide protection from at least the initial blow from a blade. They held their spears with both hands, eyes wary. One took a step forward.

"Interesting party. What is your intent, Polocks?"

The accent was a bit different from Issa and Adanya's, which in turn was different from the Kikker spoken in the port city of Saribit. It was easy enough to understand, though. Felek took a moment to gather his thoughts, do the mental translation.

"We are passing through, Sir Guard. Our business is much father along. However, we wish to lodge in your town, rather than set up camp beyond your walls."

The guard stepped to his left, looking down past the horses.

"You travel with two fellow Kikker?"

"Yes. They are friends." Felek hoped Issa stayed quiet. They did not need any attempted jokes just then.

"Do you have a recommendation for a good inn?" Anelie asked. Felek turned to her, surprised and impressed. That was probably as good as a bribe, if the guards were being paid to steer travelers to one of the local hostels. The two guards glanced at each other, smiles touching their large lips.

"The Croaking Fly is very nice," the first one said, nodding. "Very reasonable. Tell them Coujoe sent you."

"Oh, we will," Felek said, smiling. "Thank you."

The guards stood aside.

"Take the second turn to the left, follow it to almost the northern wall."

"Thank you again." Kicking into his mount's sides, Felek led them into the town.

Felek, perhaps more than any other Pole, saw the world the way King James did. As Shanna, perhaps, did. He had listened, eagerly, as the King told countless stories to the boy. Tales of his old world, of its wondrous machines, its incredible history. More, he had told Felek what it was like to live in a world filled with Humans. Not Poles. Humans. Humans of many colors, many cultures. Humans who had come to see the world in many different ways, yet were still at their core the same.

And why he found parts of this world so strange.

Kikker dwelling were one such strangeness. They were human. That was the problem, as His Grace saw it. The buildings were constructed exactly as humans would do so. Exactly, in fact, as the Polish built them. No special flourishes which indicated some aspect of their culture, no design which would cause a Pole to give a home a second look if it was transported back to Nowy Warsaw. It was as if, one day, the Kikker had gone from living in the ponds and rivers to living in human homes. As they rode down the central street, Felek saw it was no different here. Rectangular wood frame structures, with roofs of either thatch or shingles. Saribit at least had the distinction of having apparently been built directly on top of another race's city, the square frames rising from curved stone foundations with no attempt at architectural harmony. This, though...

He shook his head as they passed a rope weaver's shop. Would things be different, once they traveled far from the borders of his homeland? Would they find, in their travels, a truly Kikker city? Or WAS this their culture? Did they build like this before humans came, and it was all some kind of coincidence the two people were similar in this way?

It was a mystery.

He liked mysteries.

The locals were watching as he led the band of Poles past them. He felt no real wariness, no fear. It seemed to be more a case of curiosity. In fact, he suspected the horses drew more attention than their riders. Humans were just weird, ugly, hairy Kikker. Horses were strange, almost mythic creatures. Most Polish trading was done close to home, letting Kikker and Watu merchants spread the goods throughout the world. That would change, once things were more secure, but even then it would be the ports where Polish merchants set up shop. Few would travel by horse to a place like this.

They came to the intersection. A half dozen adolescents stood on the corner, gawking. Despite himself, Felek found his eyes dropping to the exposed breasts of the girls. Only for a moment, though, and mostly out of ... well, it wouldn't be right if he DIDN'T look. He had been trained to be diplomatic. Raising his arm as he reined in, Felek smiled as he looked at Anelie.

"Should we head towards the recommended inn? We might only be charged twice what we should."

"We could at least take a look."

There was a murmur among the onlookers. Polish, it seemed, was a strange and exotic language. Or, at least strange and unintelligible. They were certainly providing at least some entertainment.

A girl stepped from the crowd, her brown skin mostly free of the blotches which characterized Kikkers. She stopped, eyes flicking from Felek and Anelie to the first wagon. Anelie frowned.

"Yes, Girl?"

The Kikker jumped back, back hitting her companions. They pushed her back into the street, her large eyes widening even more.

"You ... you speak..."

"Yes, we speak Kikker." Anelie's voice wavered between amusement and annoyance. "It's not that hard. What can we do for you?"

"Um..." She looked at the wagon again. Felek followed her gaze.

Issa.

Laughter began bubbling up in Felek. Issa! The girl wanted Issa! God above, the look she was sending his friend transcended race like nothing he had ever seen! And he didn't see it! Issa's face was full of confusion. Had his friend ever been with a Kikker girl? Felek didn't think so. Certainly, he had not told Felek of any romantic encounters, nor of any interest in the girls at his village. Mind you, there were not that many of age, but, still...

Holding in his mirth, Felek moved his horse around Anelie's. The girl looked up at him uncertainly. He smiled.

"I'm Felek. What's your name?"

"O-Ofure."

"Well, Ofure, we are just passing through, but need lodging for the night. Do you know someplace good, reasonably priced, that can house us?" Her eyes went again to Issa. "That's Issa, my good friend. If you know a place, you can ride with him and give us directions."

Felek didn't know which was funnier, the look on her face or on Issa's. The girl ran to the wagon, pulling herself up into the driver's seat. Ruta slid over slowly, face as amused as his probably was as Ofure pressed herself against Issa. Issa tried to move away, only to find Ruta's body halting further retreat. Ofure, eyes glued to his face, pointed down the street.