Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [60]
Unlike the farms they had seen south of Aboqua, these were not patches of forest or desert reclaimed for planting. Neat hedgerows and stone walls demarcated fields that had been planted and harvested for hundreds of years. Venerable irrigation canals carried water to faultlessly straight furrows. There were fields of wheat and rye as well as vegetables and ground-hugging fruits, orchards as tidily pruned as flower beds, vineyards clean enough to sleep in. Sturdier trees hung heavy with nut crops, and melons lined the ridges of water-filled ditches like bumps on a lizard’s hide. Flocks of songbirds and small parrots filled the trees with color and the air with song. All were intoxicated with pigment, a golden parrot sporting a bright emerald crest being the most prevalent. A small flock of these opalescent birds performed aerial acrobatics above the heads of the travelers as they advanced, as if greeting them with avian sign language.
Flowers brightened the fronts of even the smallest houses, and the weed-free dirt roads soon gave way to sophisticated stone paving. They passed through small clusters of homes and craft shops that had not quite matured into villages, and then into the first real towns. Wherever they went they excited stares and gossip among the well-dressed populace, due in large part to the inability of even the most supercilious residents to ignore the hulking presence of Ahlitah on their spotless streets. But Ehomba and Simna drew their fair share of stares as well, thanks to their exotic costume and barbaric aspect.
“I don’t like being the object of everyone’s interest.” The swordsman strode along insolently, oblivious to the giggling of the women and the disapproving glares of the men. “This would be a hard place for us to hide—if we needed to hide.”
“I fear we will just have to resign ourselves to being conspicuous.” The worn butt of Ehomba’s spear clacked against the stone of the sidewalk every time he took a stride forward. “This is a much more cosseted country than any we have passed through previously. I do not mind them looking down on us, or thinking we are uncivilized savages, so long as they leave us free to go on our way.”
“We don’t need food. Our good friend the sheepherder saw to that.” The swordsman was peering hopefully at storefronts and into windows of real glass. “But I could use something stronger than tea to drink. It was an easy hike but a long one out of those mountains.”
Ehomba sighed resignedly. “You always need something to drink.”
His friend shrugged. “Can I help it if I have thin blood?”
“I think a thin constitution is more like it.” From his greater height, the southerner searched the street on which they found themselves. “But a tavern is a good place to find information. And that, friend Coubert did not supply in great quantities.” Lowering the tip of his spear, he gestured at a likely-looking establishment. Birds nested in the eaves above the entrance, suggesting either that they were inured to noise and violence or that it was a well-behaved place.
The nattily dressed owner took a stance directly opposite the door as soon as he saw what had entered. His disapproving scowl vanished the instant Ahlitah’s eye caught his, and he seemed to shrink several inches. While he did not invite them in, neither did he find it expedient to bar their way. Mindful of the fuss their foreign presence had roused, Ehomba and his companions settled themselves in the most isolated booth in the place, thereby relieving the perspiring owner of one major concern, if not exactly endearing themselves to him.
Gold from Simna’s rapidly dwindling Chlennguu hoard turned out to be as welcome in Tethspraih as anywhere else, and drink was duly if coolly brought. The tired travelers drank, and watched the comings and goings of patrons, admiring the cut of their fine clothing. Silk and satin were much in evidence, and this was only a modest municipality and not one of the Thinking Kingdom’s great cities. Its citizens smelled of wealth and prosperity. And