~
We met with the king for the last time, he had a gloomy look about him and we found out why. Don Trynac's had been persuaded apparently to allow Tnie to leave the city again under an order of banishment. Tnie accepted this information solemnly even though no timescale of expiry or possibility of word of reprieve had been offered. So Tnie it seemed was destined to remain a scapegoat. The king for his part gave a whispered assurance that he would continue to support Tnie and his reputation as long as he was in power. He also promised to work to rescind the banishment order in some way or another, but at the moment he advised that Tnie take the chance of freedom whilst he could. The other disheartening news was Don Trynac’s insistence that passage back to Dahl’Ambronis was sought by alternative means. It seemed that for reasons of his own, he didn’t want us to use an airship to return to Amentura. He did however concede the use of an airship to take us across the great maelstrom surrounding the city, but it was quite plain that we would be dropped onto the desert just beyond to face the sands. Banishment it seemed was to the desert below and no further. I supposed somewhat sarcastically that criminals such as the likes of us were not allowed such preferential treatment as to be given passage on an airship to a place of our desire, least of all one owned by the royal family.
The king told us that our best bet would be to head east and seek passage on a sea going vessel. Apparently there was a port, a town of sorts on the coast of the Rust Desert, this place, rather unimaginatively called Port Town, was situated on the only part of the coast that came down to sea level. Trade routes to Port Town across the Rust desert were quite frequently travelled, so the king told us that he had at least arranged that the airship carry us to an outpost in the Rust Desert known to be frequented by the nomadic tribes of the area as a gathering point before moving on to Port Town.
We asked him what Port Town was like, he told us that he had never been there, but even though it was a Pnook controlled town of sorts, its remoteness meant it was completely autonomous having very little to do with the administration in Scienocropolis, basically it did its own thing including allowing a healthy black market trade to flourish. It was reputed to be a less than savoury place where even though law abiding merchants plied their wares, brigands and pirates were also said to hold out. As long as the local taxes and levied charges were paid on time, anyone could claim the ‘protection’ of the corrupt administration.
We also asked about these nomadic tribes that he mentioned. He said that they were a loosely knit people, Pnook that for some reason had either freely decided, or found it necessary to live outside of the city of Scienocropolis and therefore outside of Pnook. Some it seemed were outcasts that could not come to terms with the close knit Pnook society and had decided a more solitary life in the desert was preferable. Although I did not voice it, I did find myself somewhat sympathetic to this suggestion. Some also lived there after banishment for crimes or other reasons; he looked somewhat apologetically towards Tnie. But no one knew how many there were scratching an existence out of the desert, there was no way of knowing and the Pnook in the city cared little for these people it seemed. In fact the net result was the nomads were treated with some distaste and discrimination by the Pnook race as a whole. I think Tnie saw the irony in these words as he grunted in a rather dejected manner. But he told us later that an underworld of illicit trade went on uncontrolled for the most part between certain factions within the city and the nomads. I thought of Don Trynacs, perhaps unfairly for there was no evidence to suggest he may have any links with such people.
Surprisingly the king also commented that there were reports of human nomads also living in the desert although they were rarely seen and thus thought to be very few in number. But he added that they had apparently been there even before the Pnook built Scienocropolis. These peoples were largely a mystery and contact between them and the Pnook of Scienocropolis had always been extremely rare. So as with all of the nomad factions very little was really known about them, how they survived, or what they did to maintain their existence in such an inhospitable place, it seemed a complete mystery.
So it was, we gathered all our belongings and once again under armed guard were escorted to a hanger where we dutifully met the airship that would take us to the desert below. I noticed that Don Trynac’s was there at our departure with a small contingent of other Pnook all well dressed and looking down their noses at us. Obviously he wanted to be seen to be enforcing his will and upholding his part of the agreement made with the king. In the end I was glad to be leaving this place for many reasons. I did not think I would be revisiting Scienocropolis, for in many ways I found it to be as inhospitable as the Rust Desert that surrounded it. I felt sorry for the Pnook, they seemed to be faced with so much uncertainty, but then weren’t we all? So I resigned myself to a trip through the Rust Desert. It held an adventurous attraction, something I looked forward to as a desirable alternative to a more extended stay within the Pnook city. After all it was to be the first leg of our journey back home to Dahl’Ambronis.
I prepared myself for a repeat of the eventful flight over the maelstrom that encircled the city. But in the end I had nothing to worry about for this time we were starting out from a higher point above the Rust Desert from within the city itself and proved to be a much easier flight over the top of the chaotic winds. This coupled with already having done it once I was prepared. This made the return trip a lot less physically stressful and the drop down to the desert beyond proved far less a cause for anxiety.
The trip was short, not more than a couple of hours in the air and we eventually found ourselves standing in the rust desert looking at a collection of tin shacks surrounded by a strange collection of wheeled vehicles. Behind us the maelstrom of wind and sand continued in its eternal movement but it was far enough away that the sound was quite tolerable. As soon as we had disembarked, the airship on which we had arrived took off and flew back the way we had come.
Left with little alternatives we made our way to the largest of the shacks and pushing open the door stepped within. After the blazing sun outside, the inside of the shack looked dark and it took some minutes for our eyes to adjust to the gloom. In comparison it felt cold within the shack I could feel cooler and dryer air moving about within the large single room. I looked around once my eyes allowed it, the floor was compressed it felt hard and looked although something had been poured over the floor to stick the grains of sand together for the surface was rough and gritty but no loose grains could be seen or felt. The walls inside were wooden for the most part, various planks were attached to the walls, all were bleached dry and almost looked fossilised. Various cupboards and other storage places were arranged around the outside walls of the room, one such cupboard hung on the wall by large metal brackets, in the centre was a circular opening in which a circular metal blade was spinning slowly and this I found out was the cause of the cool air movement within the shack. But it quickly became apparent that the place seemed devoid of anybody. Whoever we were supposed to meet here, if indeed anyone did live here, may have been in another of the shacks. But then a noise from above our heads made us look up. There in the rafters sat a Pnook of what looked like great age by the look of him. He was muttering and cursing to himself and wielding a large wooden mallet which he began to strike against the roof panels.
He didn’t look at us but said, “be right there, gotta fix this damn roof ‘afore the winds come ag’in.”
There was more cursing and swearing but after a while we caught the word “gotcha!” At this the little man jumped down to the ground and bowing before us said, “my fine fellows Master Fattel at y’ur service.”
I wondered that he had jumped down from the rafters, perhaps he was not that old after all for he appeared agile in his movement.
He had short stubbly growth for hair and beard. A deep scar ran up the side of his face over his left eye which was milky white and he was obviously blinded in that eye. He wore short trousers that came t
o just below his knees, this garment had many pockets and loops about it, many tools of varying sorts hung there, the trousers themselves had the look of being repaired many times. His legs were bare and even his feet just had a thin strip of leather for a sole held on by a single thin braided leather strap. On his muscular upper body was a thin garment, sleeveless, also seemingly made from many different pieces of cloth, the stitching more practical than ornamental. His muscled arms ended in gloved hands, but the gloves had no fingers in them to speak of just short frayed portions that ended at the first knuckle of each finger. The index finger and thumb of his right hand were missing which made that hand look like some kind of claw. Where the thumb should have been a silvery metal spike showed. Master Fattel then turned and strode to a table in one corner onto which he placed the large mallet he was holding, then wiping his hands on his short trousers he said over his shoulder, “and how may I be of service t’day?”
Tnie explained that we had come from Scienocropolis and sought passage to Port Town.
Master Fattel looked each of us up and down and raised one eyebrow. I expected him to start asking awkward questions, but then I remembered the description of the Pnook who lived in the desert and decided that he probably didn’t care, I suspected he was used to this as the king did say that this place was a staging area for those traveling the route east.
“Aye, well y’ur luck tis in, I’m expectin’ a Land Train through these parts goin’ to the port, in fact it is overdue by about a week, but I’m sure it is close by.”
We were offered drinks while we waited and this we accepted although the price asked for the water was quite steep. The water itself was tepid and tasted of minerals that gave a slightly unpleasant after taste. I must have made a face for Master Fattel laughed at me his wide grin exposing red gums where his two upper front teeth were missing, and said, “hmmm not to m’ lady’s likin’ I see?”
I blushed and kept quiet.
He said with a frown, “well y’ur lucky t’ have it at all. Water round here is a pretty rare commodity, but the machine I use out back to recycle it is reliable enough.”
Recycle! I felt like spitting the water from my mouth but managed to swallow it, but I found I could not manage another mouthful. So Master Fattel after guessing I was not going to drink any more asked if he may have the mug of water back, I handed it to him and he walked to the tank where he got the water and opening a lid on the top poured my water back in while he said, “waste not, want not.” He didn’t offer any refund and I didn’t think asking for one would result in his sympathy, anyway as we were reliant on Master Fattel’s hospitality to remain out of the Sun and his good wishes in arranging our transport I thought it best to stay quiet.
Master Fattel went about doing whatever it was he needed to do, there was a lot of coming and going to and from the shack we were in, sometimes we heard hammering and other noises outside, but none of us were tempted to go and see what he was up to, it was just too hot and dusty out there.
But soon we heard and felt a soft rumbling noise coming from outside, I wondered if it was the dread winds that Master Fattel had muttered about, but this noise was rhythmical and had a mechanical sound about it. Master Fattel returned and opening the door smiled in satisfaction saying, “better late than never.”
We followed him outside and there we could see a massive vehicle rumbling towards us. The machine appeared to be constructed in three sections, each section joined to its partner or partners in the case of the centre one, by two articulated collars. It had no wheels at least none that were apparent, instead it seemed to run upon six sets of very wide metal feet, two sets to each of the three sections of the machine. Each set had many feet, for I noticed they arched down in front from somewhere up inside the body of the machine, then after touching the sand they stayed where they were whilst the machine moved forward over them and then they were picked up at the rear and once more disappeared back into the machines body. I assumed they would eventually move forward inside the machine and appear again at the front only to repeat the whole procedure. The machine entered the compound of huts and shacks and slowed, it jerked and eventually came to a halt standing just inside the circle of shacks where we were. The vehicle dwarfed everything else in the compound; in fact it dwarfed the whole compound. It shook and vibrated as it stood there stationary, causing red dust to fly up into the air, brown oily smoke or maybe dirty steam was billowing into the sky above the rear part of the vehicle from a tall vertical chimney stack, the upper portion of which was bent facing the rear at right angles.
As the vehicle stood before us shuddering, there was a collection of grating noises and squeaks and a loud explosion above us which seemed to eject a big plume of the oily smoke into the sky from the chimney, I found there to be something quite comical about the whole thing. Then following a rattling gasping noise, silence fell once again around us. A minute or so later a door in the side of the vehicle high up on one side of the leading section flew open with a loud metallic creaking and then a clang as it swung back striking the side of the machine. A rope ladder was thrown down to the ground from the dark interior. A small figure appeared at the open doorway and after glancing around came sliding down the ladder. The figure appeared to be a Pnook wearing a long leather great coat that looked to be longer than he was, but he stepped to the ground and turning to face us I saw that he had a mask of some sort covering his face and large goggles over his eyes. This attire reminded me of the similar protective gear we wore in the airship on our way to Scienocropolis. The lenses of the goggles he wore made his eyes look abnormally large and added to the whole comical picture presented to us. I sniggered.
This newcomer approached where we stood and slipped the goggles onto the top of his head, then after removing his mask, he stared up at each of us, he looked unwashed, had a wispy fuzzy beard which he fingered whilst he studied us and when he smiled which looked a lot like a sneer. He too had several teeth missing and those that remained were bent at all angles. He looked at me hard, I found my smile leaving my features, he nodded in what seemed some satisfaction and presented himself as to all of us as JDC, he further remarked in a quite obscure manner as if he expected to be asked that we were not to seek what that meant because he would divulge to no one his true identity for reasons of his own. Master Fattel spoke with JDC about our passage to Port Town on the coast. JDC nodded and grasping Master Fattel’s arm walked him across from us to a shady area beneath one of the shacks. A whispered discussion between the two of them commenced and eventually they seemed to come to an agreement. JDC removed a heavy glove from one hand and he spat on his outstretched hand as did Fattel and I got the impression that some irreversible agreement had been made between them. Fattel strode over to where we stood and a price was demanded from us. I gasped, the demanded price was very high, I also felt a little put out that we had no say in the negotiation. I went to remark on this when Tnie caught hold of my arm and looking up at me shook his head as if to say don’t say it! So I didn’t.
Jondris paid Fattel, who nodded in satisfaction then strode across to where JDC stood. He then counted out some of the coin and gave it to JDC; the two Pnook then shook hands.
It turned out that JDC was only here to pick up the miscellaneous array of old vehicles we had noticed on our arrival. After secreting the money somewhere within the folds of his coat, he walked back over to his machine and climbed the ladder part ways so that he was above the level of the feet on which the machine crawled along and could reach the main hull of the machine. He banged on the outside with the flat of his gloved hand; the sound was rather like the striking of a broadsword upon a shield. After a few seconds there was a hissing noise and a large door swung down from the back of the rearmost section of the machine, this opened fully until the upper edge of the door touched the sand. We all moved around to the rear of the machine, the Land Train as JDC called it, to see what would happen. JDC quickly set about loading the various machines into his Land T
rain through the large door which had now formed a gently sloping ramp. He walked inside and reappeared dragging what looked like a heavy rope with a hook on one end. The hook he attached to the nearest of the vehicles. He climbed onto the vehicle and waved his hand, the slack was taken up on the rope and he steered the vehicle as it was slowly dragged up the ramp to disappear inside his machine. This exercise was repeated several times until all the ‘scrap’ as he called it was on board and the large rear door closed again with a similar hissing noise. JDC then disappeared inside Master Fattel’s living quarters and the door was shut behind them. We looked at each other wondering what we should do. There was nothing for it but to follow them, it was too hot to stand around out there on the desert sands.
Inside the two Pnook sat in deep discussions. They shared the contents of a dark brown bottle Master Fattel had retrieved from its hiding place behind his water processing tank. There was a lot of whispering going on, fingers were waggled and the odd glance shot our way as they talked. These two were obviously swapping news and stories I guessed. Neither seemed to be in any hurry, the pace of the desert was obviously far slower than the Pnook pace of life we experienced in the city. I gathered some satisfaction from this thought. But I soon became bored so I stood and went back outside I walked over to the Land Train machine and eventually my curiosity got the better of me and I climbed gingerly up the rope ladder that still hung down the side. At the top I peered into the dark interior. It smelt of oil and machine. When my eyes adjusted I could see quite a large space full of odd things none of which I recognised. I started as I heard a sound. It was not from inside this chamber but seemed to come from behind a closed door across the room. A wheel device on the door started to turn and the door opened a few centimetres, then it closed again and the wheel device turned the other way. So, there was obviously at least one other person in the machine. I was determined to find out so I made to climb into the machine proper when Jondris called out to me to come down. I frowned, I wanted to investigate these strange happenings, but Jondris called again, I turned to scold him, but there standing beside him was JDC. I decided it was probably best to do as I was told.
An hour later, JDC had picked up some supplies from Master Fattel and finally we appeared to be ready to set off across the Rust Desert to Port Town. After gathering all our belongings, we were ushered into the machine via the rope ladder and through the metal door out of which JDC had first appeared.
After passing through the door we found ourselves in the room full of equipment and other paraphernalia I had viewed earlier. There were no places to sit in the ‘control kiosk’ as JDC called it, for one thing it was full of old bits of metal and what looked like half-finished sculptures, plus a lot of equipment and pipes that I didn’t even begin to understand the purpose of. JDC was the last to enter the control kiosk and once he was inside he reached out and pulled up the rope ladder, this he stowed neatly away under the floor at the entrance to the machine by lifting a metal plate and replacing it again after the ladder was stowed inside. Then leaning far out and around he grabbed a rope attached to the inside of the door and pulled the door closed, with a metallic creaking and a loud clang it shut, he spun a wheel on the inside of the door and we were sealed within the confines of JDC’s Land Train. I sat down on the metal floor of the machine for the only seat in the whole place was the one that JDC would later sit at pulling levers and turning wheels, obviously intent on controlling the progress of his machine across the expanse of the Rust Desert.
I looked around the room in which we sat. The interior was lit by several glass globes inside which could be seen a bright spark of light that shimmered and moved between two long metal pins, I found out later that I could amuse myself by touching the outside of these globes causing the spark of light to split into two and whilst one spark stuck rigidly between the pins, the other was attracted to the tip of my finger and would follow it as I moved my hand around the outside of the globe.
A number of doors all with similar locking wheels led away from this room including the one I had seen open before. These obviously lead to other places deeper within the machine itself. I was tempted to look in each out of curiosity. Then my eyes spied a rack on one wall that had several long metal tubes mounted upon it, each tube had a highly polished wooden handle or paddle at one end, a neat hole was cut through the wood and a little metal lever protruded into the hole. These items caught my eye for they were the only things in sight that looked to be well looked after and as a result were sparkling clean.
I jumped in surprise as suddenly one of the doors flew open, the same one I had seen ajar before. But this time it opened sharply with a bang and a bizarre looking little man smaller than any other Pnook I had seen shot into the room wiping his hands on a dirty, oily rag, he raised the rag and sneezed twice into it then wiping his nose on the same rag placed it into a pocket mounted on the outside of the long leather coat he wore similar to that worn by JDC. He also had the large lensed goggles on, although the glass lenses where hinged up within their frames and his eyes could be seen clearly, I giggled because the raised lenses made him look like he had the most bizarre looking eyebrows. He seemed to stare nervously at each one of us, but his eyes somehow didn’t seem to focus on me as he looked in my direction, it was if he looked my way but didn’t see me. But he walked over to where JDC sat. JDC reached inside his tunic beneath his great coat and pulled out what looked like a leather wallet very similar to the one in which Tnie kept his selection of Biplextors. This he opened and I was not surprised as within the wallet held in little transparent pockets were a number of these little chips. JDC ran his finger down the pockets until he came to the chip he was obviously looking for and withdrawing it from its little pocket, he reached out and grasped the wrist of the little Pnook and then holding it tight placed the chip into his hand. I wondered if the little man was blind as he appeared to be here with us yet not entirely aware of his surroundings. But the little Pnook turned and strode purposefully back across the floor and disappeared through another of the doors with another bang and crash. I looked around at my companions in bewilderment; the best response I got back was a shrug from Łĩnwéé. So I went and sat beside Tnie and asked him why JDC had all those chips and why he had handed one to the little man. Tnie told me that the chips held information on them needed by the Land Trains machinery to ensure it functioned correctly. He assumed the information held on that particular most probably contained some important data key to the Land Train in which we travelled and possibly navigational information required to get us to Port Town. Tnie told me that sometimes operators removed some or all of the chips when leaving machines unattended as a security measure, so that the machines could no longer be used by anyone else or indeed function accidentally and be out of direct control. Satisfied I returned to my seat. JDC had moved to the single seat and just sat at the controls intently watching the monitor screen as he called it. Within a minute or so the monitor screen flashed into life and an image of the desert could be seen upon the screen. JDC pushed a button set into the wall by his side and the machine shuddered, a deep throbbing vibration started and could be felt through the floor on which I sat. But after thirty seconds or so the noise and vibration stopped and JDC cursed under his breath. He pushed the button again with the same result. After another curse slightly louder this time he grabbed hold of a flexible tube and flipping a lid open in the end with his thumb he blew down the tube and lifted it to his ear. After a few seconds of waiting he removed the tube from his ear and placing it around his mouth shouted something into the tube in the Pnook language. After this he grunted and replacing the cap back onto the end of the tube he replaced the tube onto the little hook made for the purpose and pushed the button again. There were the same deep vibration, but this time instead of stopping the vibration continued even after JDC had removed his finger from the button. He nodded his satisfaction and pushed slowly on a lever in front of him and I felt a sudden motion as the machine lurched forwar
d. Looking over JDC’s shoulder I could see the desert moving in the monitor screen it appeared to be sliding down from the top of the screen then disappearing from view at the bottom. JDC turned a black knob situated on the panel in front of him and I could see the picture in the monitor change until the horizon showed about half way up.
I never did get used to the lurching motion of the machine as it seemed to claw its passage over the desert sands. Because we were some several metres above the ground every slope whether traversed sideways or front ways was accentuated within the vehicle. With each lurching motion things hanging about on the wall of the control room swung this way and that, a particularly annoying flexible hose kept banging into the side of my head where I sat so I moved away from the arc of its persistent swing making sure nothing else could strike me.
After an hour or so of travelling Tnie made his way over to JDC’s chair and started to try and engage in conversation. JDC was quiet at first preferring I assumed to concentrate on driving the machine across the desert, but after a few compliments from Tnie on his driving skills and ability to read the desert JDC loosened up a little. Soon another hour had passed and it seemed by the flow of conversation that Tnie and JDC were now the best of friends. I was surprised when JDC got out of the chair and Tnie sat down and took the controls. JDC stood by his side giving advice and how gentle movements were better because the controls were a little over sensitive. After a few big jerking movements as Tnie got familiar with the controls we settled down again to the rhythmic movements as the machine progressed across the desert. Tnie remained in deep concentration, but JDC once he was confident of Tnie’s capabilities relaxed even more and started to chat. In fact during the rest of the journey Tnie and JDC shared the driving; this was much to the delight of JDC because we were now able to travel day and night. Whereas when on his own even JDC had to sleep sometimes, so his journeys were interrupted at night time. I asked why the other little Pnook man didn’t drive. JDC just grunted and laughed saying that he wouldn’t let the other drive if his life depended upon it.
In the days that followed I got chatting to JDC about various things. For a while he spoke about his machine which seemed to be the love of his life, indeed his very existence seemed to rely heavily on the Land Train, it was both his home and his livelihood. He explained how he had come across it as a wreck many years ago whilst in Jethrent. A human trader had shipped it to the place in many parts on many sand sleds dragged by Duagnuats. JDC explained that he had won it in a game of Clastitor and he had repaired it himself out of odd parts he either found or bartered for in various other places across the desert. I asked him excitedly about this Jethrent for I assumed it was a place somewhere in the desert, obviously where the various nomadic peoples met, perhaps it was even the city of the humans that the king had said were supposed to survive in the desert. He told me that it was not a town, rather only a ramshackle collection of tents, it was a nomad’s haunt, but it did not describe a place, more a recognised gathering, an event where the human tribes met once a year to exchange stories, get goods, meet other tribes and clans and get thoroughly drunk. It appeared that they even found partners and got married there to. He explained that there were many more humans living in the desert than anyone thought, although the actual number would be impossible to come to. The humans it seemed lived in several clans, within each clan were numerable tribes, extended family groups really and there was no centralised government or any organised administration.
I asked then about the Duagnuats he had mentioned and was told that these were hardy beasts of burden, not native to the desert for nothing lived here as a natural habitat. It was the humans that brought the Duagnuats here from some unknown lands. These beasts were very hardy and strong, they could survive on little food and water. Human families living in the desert had at least one Duagnuats, most had several, for these creatures were vital to life in the desert.
I asked him about the Rust Desert itself and how long he had been traversing it. He told us that he had been travelling the desert for many years, too many for him to remember, he couldn’t shed any light on the history of the desert though. All he said was that the desert was trouble if you did not afford it the respect that it demanded. He told us only the nomads like himself and the human nomadic tribes he had previously mentioned travelled across the desert in family groups. But these people, the humans that is, were mysterious, they never showed their faces, at least not in public and would go out of their way to avoid you if you approached them, unless of course they needed something that you had, then they would confer for hours with each other before nominating one of their family members to approach and do business. You never knew who you were getting, sometimes a male but equally it could be a female, sometimes an adult but equally it could be a small child. One thing for sure though, they were all of them astute and very, very clever. You had to agree a price with them for if you did not generally you would find the item being traded went missing anyway so you may as well earn something from it. He mentioned that he did not like their company too much on the whole because he always felt an outsider, they never seemed to accept him. But he said he made a good living trading with both these folk, the Pnook nomads and humans.
Apparently he was dealing mainly in water as it was very rare to find any in the deep desert proper, apart from once a year in Jethrent, which is one of the reasons apparently that the nomadic tribes congregate once a year. The Jethrent was always held in a special secret place where water could be found. The only other way to get water in any quantity was to either buy it from merchants like him. The alternative was to gather condensation, but this only obtained a small amount at a time. He also dealt in anything else that the people of the desert valued from time to time. He commented that he should get a good price in Port Town for the scrap metal from the vehicles he took on board at Master Fattel’s place. When I asked about where the vehicles came from he explained that the desert peoples found them from time to time and would bring them to Master Fattel’s trading post. Before I could ask more I became distracted for he started to mention more about our destination of Port Town.
It transpired that like most merchants like him, he obtained his water from Port Town where we were headed. He explained that Port Town had water desalination plants and water was available there in quantity as desalinated sea water.
At this he walked over to a basin on one wall of the control room and holding a battered metal cup under a small tap filled it with what I guessed was water.
He offered this to me and said, “try this girly, ’tis desalinated sea water from the Trad, you may find it better than t’ vintage that Fattel sells.”
I took the mug and sniffed at the contents suspiciously, and gently brought the lip of the mug to my lips and sipped the tiniest drop of liquid possible. I was surprised, pleasantly surprised in fact, the water tasted not at all bad, it still had a slightly flat, salty flavour but it was ice cold and actually pleasant enough to drink, so I kept the mug and drank some more.
JDC nodded approvingly and went on to explain that the tanks that held his water were chilled because he always hated warm drinks.
It also turned out that JDC admitted being something of a collector, at this I smiled looking around this room at all the various artefacts. He said, “aye much can be gleamed from places where the desert tide is right.”
I asked him what he meant by tides, for he had already said there was no water here. He explained that the red dust behaved like water. The moon as it journeyed round the world dragging the dust which being ferrous exhibited magnetic properties of its own just as if it were water. Dependant on where you were in the desert, depended how high the shifting dusts would rise and fall. You had to be careful and he showed me a cupboard full of charts that he had made himself that contained sort of maps with many figures scripted upon them that denoted tidal flows with measurements of dust flow. He seemed quite proud of these as it had taken much journeying and many years to accum
ulate the information contained within these charts. He also said that the work had paid off in the long run because no one else possessed this information and many were as a result keen to pay for his skills as a guide.
Then he said a curious thing, “out in t’ deep desert I have seen odd things. Sometimes the wind blows in such a way and when assisted with the tides the dust is removed from a whole area right down t’ the bed rock below, sometimes strange constructions are revealed mostly metal structures that look like the skeletons o’ buildings. There is normally quite good scavenging t’ be had at these times, you never know what will be uncovered.”
“Like those vehicles you have stowed away in the Land Train?”
He nodded, “exactly so girlie, yes.”
He went on to say that he employed nomad kids with a small annual retainer to keep an eye out for such occurrences, he showed me a tattered note book where he wrote down the name of the kid that had informed him, the time of year that the sighting had been made and the sum of money paid to his informant. He told of how down there below were the remains of a city perhaps, at least the very tops of a city, for the lower regions seemed to be buried deep within the bedrock. Sometimes entrances could be found that if you managed to get them open enabled you to descend through the interior of the buildings deep into the earth through the bed rock itself below the deserts surface and if you got lucky many treasures could be found. He believed it all originated from a lost civilisation, long forgotten now. He said that he could link such places with his tidal maps and could now begin to predict when and where these things would become accessible, not only that but a more accurate idea of how long this access would stay open for. He had started to test his theories a couple of months previously with some success.
He reached down into his inside coat to what I supposed where pockets, he retrieved a little flat box shaped item. He pressed a button that was invisible on the surface and a square of light formed on the upper edge of one side of the box, he pressed another button and a faint sound of some kind of music started to play and I could see what looked like human men and women moving around. As I looked at the area of light they seemed to be playing some kind of game with children involving the throwing of a spherical object that the children tried to catch. I was transfixed by this, was it reality or just some made up thing of arcane making I did not know, but those represented in the moving pictures looked real enough. But I could see no sense in what they were doing, I mean I knew what they were doing having fun, but why put these images in such a little device, what possible reason or use could it have. Then the little device went blank only to brighten again moments later, the same humans were sitting around a table drinking from glasses as if they were in a tavern. Following this the image shifted again and a small child appeared throwing a similar spherical object across a large area of short green grass, a small animal that looked like some kind of miniature wolf chased after the object and after returning it to the child dropped the object at his feet. The child took up the object and again threw it, once more the wolf went after it and returned with it. As I watched in fascination this repeated several times before the picture went black and no more could be seen. I remained transfixed by the imagery I witnessed within the box.
I asked, “what is it for?”
JDC just shrugged and returned the small device back into his pocket and was silent. I looked again around the room in which we sat, it suddenly occurred to me that much of the collection of stuff in the Land Train may have been scavenged from the desert. I confirmed this with JDC he smiled and said that yes that was just so, over the years he had found all sorts of things.
“Including those?”
I pointed to the rack of long tubes on the wall that I noticed earlier.
He eyed them and said, “ah yes, me rif’als.”
I looked questioningly at him and he explained that they were some kind of long forgotten human weapon a bit like the gnome projectile weapons in that they fired a sort of arrow, or shell as he called it, but fired it so fast you couldn’t see it going through the air and it would travel for some thousand metres before it fell to earth. He explained that the Pnook had copied the weapons he had found and they were now a common weapon for Pnook guards to carry. I did recall seeing similar things amongst the guards that had arrested us on our arrival to Scienocropolis.
“But those are unusual,” he went on to say with a hint of pride in his voice.
“I ‘ave kept these a close secret because they are particularly special. I was very fortunate to find ‘em. Once far to the south the wind had uncovered a portion o’ desert, the exact position was revealed to me by some nomads I regularly traded water with. In exchange they told me about the cleared area, so I rushed down there as fast as I could. This hollow was deep, right down t’ the bed rock, well not a natural bed rock but a kind of manufactured rock was laid bare, flat and level it was. Several rusted vehicles lay lined up neatly just as on the day they were buried it seemed. These had hulls of thick metal and no window to look out of anywhere, when I got down to ‘em I could not see a way inside to start with, but finally up on top was a round kind o’ hatch affair. After a bit of hammerin’ and leverin’ I managed to get this hatch open. Once the seal was breached there was a hiss of air that came out, stank it did, but after a while I hung m’ head down to take a peek inside. Immediately below me sat a human skeleton dressed in a green overall, in front o’ ‘im where controls I guessed for drivin’ the machine. I jumped down inside but as I brushed against the poor fella’ at the controls he crumbled to dust. I shone m’ light down the length of the vehicle inside and believe me girly I got the shock o’ me poor life I can tell ye. For there, sittin’ on seats along each side starin’ at each other was about twenty or so human skellies. How they died was a mystery at first for there was no sign o’ any struggle, they just seemed to have died where they sat. They each wore armour o’ a sorts, helmets with visors over their faces and body armour and underneath this they wore some kind of suit that covered every part o’ ‘em, head t’ foot. Strapped to each o’ their backs were these ‘ere ri’fals, well I didn’t think these guys would mind a hoot if I took an armful along whit’ some ammo. But imagine my surprise when I disturbed the bodies to get at the ri’fals I discovered that each body was missing the skull and spinal vertebrae. Each helmet was empty. These parts were gone, no trace remained. It was as if some unmentionable thing had taken each one cleanly and surgically from the body. Well it wasn’t a pleasant job recovering those ri’fals I can assure you, but that’s how I came by ‘em.”
“So what makes them so special then,” I asked.
“Ach, well girly these fire an explosive projectile that is quite devastating on impact. I may sell one o’ ‘em t’ the Pnook or t’ any other highest bidder one day if I am a little short o’ funds, they are part o’ my retirement fund if you will.”
I made the comment that he sounded although he had regular contact with the Pnook of the city. He replied that he did not, in fact he seemed adamant that he had no contact whatsoever with Scienocropolis. He spoke of the city as if he disliked the very thought of dealing with it. But, he added, there were a few within the city who could be trusted and who saw a benefit to keeping old Master Fattel sweet. Some obviously saw value in Master Fattel being a go-between with those who lived in the desert.
“The king, he knew of Master Fattel’s outpost?” JDC just placed his finger to the side of his nose and winked at me. He would say no more.
We travelled like this for several days. Progress was slow but at least we had drinkable water, dried food and shelter from the burning sun and the violent sand storms that we came across occasionally. To relieve the boredom JDC showed us around the Land Train, he was obviously proud of it and never tired of taking one or more of us for a little guided tour whilst the machine was driven by Tnie. It was quite large inside, but many of the various compartments were filled with all manner of old junk and things. Occasionally
we bumped into the strange little Pnook that had flittered in and out of the control room when we first set out. It turned out that this little man whose name was Citac had a natural talent and skilful way with all things mechanical, so he spent his time running about the machine keeping everything in fine working order. I asked JDC for information on Citac’s history, all he would say was that Citac had actually come with the Land Train. JDC said he was invaluable during the months that he was reconstructing and repairing the Land Train and once this had been done Citac would not leave it. It was as if Citac was part of the Land Train, for it was clearly because of the machine that he stayed, not for any love or friendship he had with JDC. He went on to explain that on the odd occasions when Citac had left the Land Train he seemed to be lost, literally lost, for he would flounder about grasping with his hands as if he were blind. Yet JDC knew that the little man could see. It was as if Citac’s physical form was in this world, but his psyche and vision were locked within the Land Train and he left this part of him behind if he left it. JDC told me that the trader he had won the parts of the Land Train from told him that Citac had something to do with the wrecking of the Land Train, but could not, or would not provide any further details. He seemed to regard this history with some fear, or at least trepidation. This understanding and resulting fear was the reason JDC would not allow Citac to take control, not that the little man had asked to do so anyway.
“This trader of which you speak, what race was he?” I did not know why I asked this question, it was just provoked by something sparking in my mind.”
“I don’t know for sure. I never saw his face, he kept it hidden within the hood of his dark robes at all times. I always thought him to be human, but now I think about it, his accent and the way he moved did not seem human, at least not now.” JDC looked at me as if sizing me up in his mind.
"You think he may have been one of my people? A T’Iea?
He just shook his head and remained in thought for a few minutes.
I found all this fascinating, I even tried to talk to Citac himself, but all of my attempts were met with a bizarre stare for he did not seem to acknowledge my voice, his eyes although looking in my direction always appeared to be gazing past me through my head to a point somewhere in the distance, it was always quite an unnerving experience. Never, not once, did Citac speak back to me or even seem to acknowledge my presence in any other way. When I asked JDC about him he just said that the little Pnook wasn’t all there.
During the early morning on the last day I went through one of the doors in the control room that JDC had shown me a number of days before. This door didn’t open into another room, but opened at the base of a vertical metal tube that had a single ladder affixed to the inside. As I had done a few times before I climbed this metal ladder and climbed the metal tube, then opening a hatch at the top of the tube climbed out onto the roof of the machine. Here there was a circular lookout area surrounded by a safety railing, I liked coming up here as did the rest of the party, for it afforded some relief from the heat and oily smell of the interior of the machine. From the height of this viewing platform you could see for miles across the desert. Not that anything other than red sand could be seen as far as the eye could see. But on this particular morning a spied a blue line on the horizon in front of us. I sat and leant against the railing and watched as this line got thicker and thicker as we moved across the desert. It suddenly occurred to me that it was the Trad Ocean and we were nearing the end of our journey in JDC’s Land Train. There was a little speaking tube with a whistle by the side of the hatch, I blew down the tube and shouted down, “hey all of you, you should come and see this.”
So up came Jondris, Serinae, Teouso and Łĩnwéé, apparently Tnie was again taking a stint at driving the machine so stayed below. I pointed to the blue horizon and the four of them gazed out at the obvious sight of the approaching ocean. As we got nearer something else began to show itself, there was a small dark area that could be seen between the blue of the ocean and the red of the desert. We seemed to be heading directly towards this dark area.
Serinae was also looking at this and said, “my guess is that is where we are headed. Port Town.” She pointed at the dark area.
The rest of that morning all five of us stayed up on the lookout platform gazing at the view ahead. Soon Port Town filled most of the view in front of us. It looked like a drab collection of metal huts, no building was higher than a single storey and the streets between the buildings were just dust roads of the same red dust that made up the surrounding desert. As we approached there seemed to be the remnants of a high fence surrounding the port. This fence, where it showed above the red dust, was made of ancient and rusting metal sheets. It seemed that someone had tried to ward the desert away trying to keep it from encroaching into the port. But they had obviously given up, as the desert had proven such an irresistible force. The red sands now strove to break down the man-made barrier and had even engulfed some of the outlying buildings. I thought how it must be a constant battle for the port to remain here and not be reclaimed by the persistent onslaught of the desert sands.
Soon the machine came to a dead halt and the motor that drove it rattled, sputtered and sighed to a stop, its final encore the explosion and ejection of black oily smoke from the chimney at the rear. We climbed back down the ladder and into the control room. Here Tnie was in deep conversation with JDC about something. As we gathered our belongings in anticipation of our departure, JDC reached up and taking one of the rif’als off the wall handed it to Tnie. Then opening a cupboard below the rif’als he brought out a number of boxes which he placed inside Tnie’s back pack.
I caught JDC saying something, but the only words I could make out were, “thank you again Tnie, make sure you treat this weapon with respect use it sparingly, for I can only give you limited ammunition.”
Tnie nodded and putting his pack over one shoulder he picked up the rif’al and loosening a leather strap attached along the length of the tube he slung it over his other shoulder and across his back. There was something about the way that JDC had spoken to Tnie when he thought no one else could hear, his accent had disappeared?
So we left JDC to his business of filling up with water and unloading the scrap vehicles from the rear of the Land Train. We all thanked him for his passage and wished him well on his return journey. He smiled and said in his accented voice, that it was his pleasure and should we need him again that he regularly visited Port Town normally every three to four months unless he got delayed exploring the deep desert. He told us in any case to wait for his return and he would gladly ferry us back across the desert should we need to go.
We turned and waving farewell walked into the narrow streets of Port Town, my final view of JDC and his Land Train was of the Pnook walking across the red sands dragging a large silver hose which he proceeded to connect to some receptacle after opening a metal door in the side of one of the buildings.
I turned and followed my companions towards Port Town proper.