Hoard

Once thrown wide in welcome, the gates of Riincroft were big enough to admit a dragon—a small one, and that just barely. Vadaralshi decided not to bother testing it.

“How about a shoulder ride, just like old times, eh?” she offered immediately upon shifting to her smaller form, grinning down at Liiri.

“I don’t usually have to point this out,” the old woman replied, “but I am not three years old anymore, Vadaralshi.”

“Oh, psh, you’re barely any bigger. Not from my perspective, anyway! C’mon, it’s no trouble. You don’t seem to move around as easily as back then. I remember it being hard to make you sit still.”

“Oy, away with you,” Liiri scolded, batting Vadaralshi’s outstretched claw away with her staff. “People respect me around here. You can’t give the Croft’s elder a piggyback ride, I have a reputation to consider.”

“Well, if there’s one thing a dragon respects, it’s pride,” Vadaralshi conceded. “C’mon, Max, stop being so prissy. You’ll fit easily if you change.”

Vanimax had been dubiously inspecting the wooden gates from up close, so far having put nothing through them save his head—it looked like that was going to be a little tight around the shoulders—but now stopped and hissed at her.

Immediately every one of the Hiiri who had just crept uncertainly forward scattered in a panic, diving through doorways and behind obstructions. The only exception was Liiri, who either felt more secure in Vadaralshi’s shadow or was just too old to be as easily intimidated.

Turning, the elder planted her staff in on the packed sand of the path and smiled up at him. “Max, was it?”

He immediately thrust his head forward aggressively, snarling.

“Whoah, whoah!” Before Vadaralshi could react, Kaln teleported between them, placing one hand against Vanimax’s nose to push him back. “Easy there! She obviously didn’t mean anything by it, let’s not overreact. A dragon’s name is a big deal,” he added, shifting to address Liiri. “His name is Vanimax. Shortening it or giving them a nickname is a great intimacy, not lightly offered. His sister can do that, not the rest of us.”

“Ah.” Liiri thumped her staff down once and shifted slightly forward; it looked like she was attempting to bow, with a spine that wouldn’t bend quite that far anymore. “Please accept an old woman’s humble apologies, Vanimax. You are a most honored guest, a generous traveler and kin to a friend we had thought long lost—you are more than welcome in this place of rest and healing. It goes without saying that nothing here could be a threat to you even if we wished, but our hospitality would spare you even discourtesy if we can. Please, be welcome by our fires.”

“Hm,” Vanimax grunted, looking somewhat bemused by this. He started to rear up, bumped his head on the gate, and hunched back down, wincing.

“Oh, by the stars, he’s adorable,” a Hiiri woman hiding behind a huge basket near Kaln whispered.

“You are an abject howling maniac,” her nearby friend said matter-of-factly.

“All right, if you’re gonna be stubborn, you can carry the cows,” Vadaralshi pronounced. “C’mon, Liiri, let’s go…uh…where would you like those put down, exactly?”

“Now, that’s an interesting dilemma,” Liiri said, peering critically around at the Croft, where the surrounding Hiiri were just beginning to nervously poke their heads out again. “We’re well set-up to handle the community’s typical needs, but in the desert game that size doesn’t exactly…well, exist. Clearly it’ll have to end up in the kitchens and storehouses, and conveniently those are next to each other… Less conveniently, I don’t think even one of those beasts would fit through any of the entrances.”

Glancing casually around while she ruminated aloud, Kaln was drinking in all the details he could, now that Vanimax was holding still and the Hiiri had begun peeking out again. Of the twenty or so individuals lurking in the vicinity a circumspect distance from the dragons, he was pretty sure all were women. Not totally certain, as some of them wore loose clothing on top of the inherent obscurity a thick coat of fur added to their body shapes, but…pretty sure. Of course, some imbalance was to be expected, but he hadn’t realized it was this severe. Or maybe the men were just somewhere else, for cultural reasons? He also noticed that close to half of the women present seemed to be elders like Liiri, but based on Vadaralshi’s comments that probably had to do with Riincroft’s purpose as a settlement.

“We’ll have to stage the canyon floor in front of the big kitchens as a butchery,” Liiri decided. “Whoof, that’ll be a pain in the tail, but it’ll all be worth it once everything’s done. This is a truly kingly gift, and our efforts must do it justice. Miini, hop ahead and get everybody organized to set that up. You’re in charge, and tell Zhiiji I said so. Also tell her I said you can punch her if she makes it necessary.”

The nearby woman she’d addressed grimaced, which made her snout twist into a surprisingly intimidating snarl. “Zhiiji fights back, though. She bites. Can I stab her?”

“Only if you do it before the beef arrives, I don’t want anyone bleeding on the food.”

Miini’s grimace turned into a grin and she playfully dusted the top of Liiri’s head with the fluffy end of her tail, then bounded away, laughing.

“Meanwhile, we’ll convey our guests in out of the sun!” the elder said decisively, after shaking her staff at the departing woman. “Tonight, friends, there will be a feast held in your honor—there’s absolutely no question of anything less! But that will take some preparation, and I won’t have you languish in the heat until then. Come, there is ample shade for you, with cool drinks and soft cloths.”

“Ah, and I believe that would be my cue!”

Kaln had been peering about again, just taking note that every one of the Hiiri present had an arm decoration like the gate guard’s—wooden bracelets at the wrist and upper bicep, connected by a braided cord wrapped all the way around the arm—when a new Hiiri arrived, the first who did not. He was also the first obvious male Kaln had seen.

The newcomer wore only a kilt whose hem trailed into multiple streams of beads which rattled with every step, and a scarf loosely wrapped around his shoulders. His fur was a deep tan, and he was also the first Hiiri Kaln had seen who seemed to be using cosmetics, unless those darker stains along his eyelids were natural. Kaln suspected not; they had the same general effect of makeup plenty of humans wore in both Rhivaak and Boisverd (and Shamissar, for that matter), just blended into his fur rather than smeared onto skin.

“Most honored guests,” he said, bowing deeply in a gesture more elaborately courtly than anyone in Rhivkabat would be expected to perform even before the Empress, “welcome, welcome to Riincroft. Vadaralshi, it gladdens our hearts more than my uneducated tongue can express that you have returned to us. Great Vanimax, by your very presence you honor our simple home so highly that I scarcely have room in my poor head to be properly grateful for your most generous gifts—but be assured, I shall find that room, for I will not stand for such largesse to go unappreciated in my home. Kaln, I cannot wait to hear the tale of how you came to be traveling in such company! I have no choice but to host you in the greatest comfort my humble home can provide, in the merest hope of making it worth your while to indulge my curiosity.”

This guy was good—gracious and clearly adept at handling fraught situations and difficult personalities. It was a little more flowery than Kaln would’ve gone, but that was probably just cultural.

“I am Maanet.” The Hiiri man shifted his posture subtly, facing them at an angle that managed to emphasize while also obscuring the sudden tilt of his hips. Being little more than waist-high to Kaln really helped him in peeking coquettishly up through his lashes, which Kaln only now noticed were prominent in a way that only came from the skillful application of cosmetics. His tail helped even more, suddenly waving behind him in languid, sinuous motions; Kaln would never have thought of a fluffy tail being brushed across the dusty path as sensuous, but Maanet definitely pulled it off. “My family has the honor of tending to Riincroft for this turn of the seasons—and so, fate has brought us the far more unexpected honor of hosting you, our rarest and most treasured guests. My home is your home, friends; no comfort which is mine to grant shall be denied you.”

“Looking forward to it!” Vadaralshi said brightly. “We’ll be along as soon as— Max, you lazy butt.”

“What?” Vanimax had taken advantage of Maanet’s florid introduction to squeeze carefully through the gate, and now stood just inside, levitating all four of the huge aurochs via magic. “You were expecting me to…what, juggle them? How many claws do you think I have?”

“Exactly enough to—”

“I need to walk, Vadaralshi!”

“Well, if you’re going to do that anyway, might as well shrink down so you can actually walk in here.”

He hissed at her, scattering most of the Hiiri again, though a few more of them were brave enough to stick it out this time.

“If he’s not comfortable transforming, don’t pressure him,” said Kaln. “Do at least think about it, though, Vanimax. You can barely move through these canyons like that; there’s no way you could actually fit indoors. I’d feel bad leaving you standing out here while we all laze around enjoying their hospitality.”

Vanimax reared up, scowling down at Kaln incredulously, and whether because his concentration slipped or as a deliberate expression of pique, dropped the four aurochs in a pile.

“Move move move! Get outta the way, move it!”

“Ah,” Maanet sighed, “I hoped we might have another moment, at least.”

“MOVE!” The next Hiiri to join the scene actually bowled over one of the onlookers, and it was only one because the other three in her path were deft enough to dive out of the way. Fortunately, the unlucky huntress only got a kick in the head as the new arrival bounded over them; given that she was brandishing a meat cleaver in one hand and a paring knife in the other, it might have been ugly had she pushed through at ground level.

“Hello, Zhiiji,” said Liiri in a tone of deep and weary resignation.

“Aurochs! Highland aurochs! Fresh! Four of ‘em!” Zhiiji actually darted back and forth in agitation in front of the pile of cattle, which in its entirety was at least five times her height. “Ohhhh, my gods and garters and fancy tableware, this will be my masterpiece! The things I’m going to achieve with this! The stews! The steaks! The only way it could be better is if I’d gotten to kill ‘em myself! Why couldn’t you have brought me a live one, how hard would that have been?”

“Zhiiji!” Liiri barked. “These are a gift to the Croft, from the most important and also dangerous guests we have ever hosted! Some respect from you would be appropriate!”

“I would say necessary rather than appropriate,” Maanet observed.

“What? The dragons?” Zhiiji actually looked up at Vanimax for all of a second, then visibly dismissed him as if he wasn’t capable of ending her in one bite. “Please, do you know how easy it is to bag a few aurochs if you’re a big fuckoff flying terror made of brimstone and magic? This is like picking flowers to—”

“ZHIIJI!” Liiri bellowed. “You stand right there and don’t you move!”

“What’re—oh, come on, Liiri, you’re not gonna—”

And yet, she did stay obediently in place while the old woman hefted her walking stick overhead in both hands, and brought it down atop Zhiiji’s head right between the ears.

“Ow,” Zhiiji said in a mildly irritated tone. “Are you done? Feel better?”

“She has a point,” Vadaralshi noted. “Aurochs are super easy pickings. We’d have brought you a mammoth, but it’s kind of a pain to carry those long distances.”

“Most honored and esteemed Vadaralshi,” Maanet intoned, “I humbly beg you not to encourage our cook. Zhiiji, the virtue of hospitality is universally held by every civilized culture anywhere, but among the Hiiri it is paramount. There is no higher virtue than to offer shelter to a fellow traveler, or gifts to those who grant you respite from the desert. And this Croft is held in trust by and for all our people who need it, the domain of no one tribe, nor the esteem of its caretakers. You are managing to disgrace our entire people.”

Zhiiji gave him a sour look, then turned to face Vadaralshi and Vanimax, and finally heaved a disgruntled sigh.

“All right, fine. Even though I know exactly how much effort you expended to get this—which is to say, none—and what its value is to you—which is to say, also none—it is nonetheless an enormously generous gift to us. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for this kindness and the opportunity.”

She bowed to them, bending horizontally at the waist—it was a style of gesture that didn’t seem to fit with any of what Maanet had been doing. In fact, now that Kaln looked, Zhiiji seemed to be a bit of an outsider here. The Hiiri had fur in various tawny shades with patterns that seemed like they’d be good natural camouflage in the desert, and to judge by hers she was part of the same ethnic group, but she was dressed very differently from the rest of them, in some kind of tunic that was dyed deep green but appeared to have been burned, stained, and mended repeatedly. Also, she was only the second Hiiri he’d seen without an arm cord, and the only female.

“Now, are you gonna help me haul these to my kitchen, or not?”

“Zhiiji is our cook,” Liiri explained. “And she truly is an amazingly skilled one. I do recommend letting her live just so you can taste what she does with this meat. That’s why the rest of us do.”

“I know I ought to be sorely affronted,” Vanimax rumbled, “but this is easily the most entertaining mortal I’ve ever met.”

“Hear that?” Vadaralshi added, grinning. “You get to live another day because my brother doesn’t get out enough.”

“It can’t possibly be the first time,” said Maanet. “Anyway, this should keep her occupied for the rest of the day, which will allow me to host the rest of you in blessed serenity. Please, if you would?”