Haladras (5 page)

Skylar shrugged. “I don’t know. He put me on mandatory sick
leave for two weeks. After that he said we’d talk.”

“Well, I hope he lets you back. It would only be his loss if
he doesn’t.”

There was a few seconds pause, in which Skylar didn’t know
what more to say. He didn’t have to.

“Could I walk with you?” she asked timidly. “I’m not
expected at my apprenticeship for another hour.”

At that moment, he could have died from sheer joy.

Their walk to the Gorge passed all too quickly. He had
managed to relax a little more, and soon they were chatting and laughing like
best friends. And then they were at his cave, and Kendyl said goodbye.

Skylar stepped into the cave, his mind floating on a cloud
of thoughts filled with Kendyl. He was so distracted that he didn’t even notice
the dark figure sitting in the corner.

FIVE

S
TILL UNDER KENDYL’S
spell,
Skylar went to his bed
chamber. He removed his satchel and threw it along
with himself onto his bed. He fumbled through the satchel, drew out a physics
book and vainly attempted to study it.

“You should learn to be more cautious,” said a deep voice
from behind. Skylar jerked his head around. A figure in an old gray cloak stood
facing him, his face hidden within the hood.

“Uncle!” Skylar exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

Lasseter pulled back the hood, revealing his stern gaze. “I
could have been anyone wearing a cloak. You didn’t even know I was here. What
if—” he began, but then broke off. “You must to be more cautious.”

Skylar furrowed his brow. “Cautious of what? Men in hooded
cloaks?”

His uncle ignored the question.

“I need your help procuring some supplies. Can you spare me
some of your time this afternoon?”

“Anything to get out of studying,” said Skylar.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to study later.”

Despite his uncle’s bewildering admonition to be more
cautious, there was nothing unusual about his request for help with the
supplies. His uncle bought everything in bulk, so that his trips to the stores
and depots near the Gorge would be as infrequent as possible. Skylar often went
along to help load the myriad of boxes, bags, and crates into his uncle’s sand
rover.

“She was pretty,” his uncle said as he navigated the rover
along the winding paths of the Gorge.

Skylar looked at him with surprise. Had Lasseter seen him
walking with Kendyl?

“Who?” said Skylar, attempting to sound innocent.

“
Who
?” echoed his uncle. “That little red-head who
plastered that ridiculous smile on your face. I saw you two talking. Doubtless
she was the reason for your inattentiveness when you entered the cave.”

“Her name’s Kendyl,” said Skylar, fighting back the smile.
“She’s just a friend,” he hastily added.

“Well, congratulations on your new friend. Just see that she
doesn’t distract you too much.”

Distract me from what?
wondered Skylar.

They soon arrived at the mouth of the Gorge, where most of
the commerce of Kaladra took place. On the surface, it looked much like the
rest of the Gorge. Many of the shops’ proprietors operated their businesses
from small caves. Some of the newer shops were in stand-alone buildings on the
floor of the Gorge. These were constructed of mud bricks or sandstone.

Skylar stepped out of the sand rover onto the hot sandstone
floor of the Gorge and squinted in the blaring midafternoon sun toward the
direction of the granary. His uncle was a man of order; he always stopped at
the granary first for two bushels of wheat, one of legumes—whatever was in the
storehouse. Next, he visited the fruiteria, where he would ask in vain for
fresh fruit. The shopkeeper always responded the same: “Fresh fruit? That’s
tough to come by, Lasseter. What small amount I get sells so quickly…you’ll be
the first one I notify next time I get any.” It was a lie, of course. The
shopkeeper had more important clientele he reserved it for. The usual boxes of
dried fruits would have to suffice. Skylar had never tasted anything like what
his uncle was hoping for. When or how his uncle had, he did not know.

Next, Lloyd’s Dried Meats for ten kilos of dried sausages
and several blocks of cured cheese.

Skylar knew the routine by heart.

He was surprised, then, when his uncle started walking in
the opposite direction on the granary.

“This way,” his uncle called, “to the outfitter’s.”

“The outfitters? What do you need from there?”

“Clothes,” his uncle replied.

They entered the small but tidy cave-shop and were quickly
attended by its eager shopkeeper. The man was dressed as neatly as his shop and
smiled amiably at the pair. Despite the smile, Skylar noted the appraising
glance he gave his uncle. Skylar suddenly felt uncomfortable standing next to
his uncle, so oddly garbed in his long cloak and hood.

Why doesn’t he at least put his hood back?
Skylar
thought in agitation.
Perhaps, then, people wouldn’t think him so strange.

Despite his uncle’s appearance, the shopkeeper maintained
his façade of cordiality.

“How may I assist you two gentlemen?” he asked, bowing slightly.

“I would like to purchase a cloak,” replied Skylar’s uncle.

The shopkeeper’s smile vanished for an instant, but promptly
returned accompanied by, “Why, yes! Yes of course. Nothing like a new cloak to
keep one protected from those harsh Haladrian sand storms. I’ve never been
caught in one myself, but I’ve heard stories… Anyway, I’m afraid we don’t keep
cloaks in stock. However, I can have one tailored for you. Shall I fetch my
measuring tape?”

The shopkeeper was halfway to the back of his shop before Lasseter
had a chance to respond. And Skylar doubted if the shopkeeper would have
listened had his uncle declined. Within a quarter of a minute the shopkeeper
was buzzing around Skylar’s uncle, taking measurements in rapid succession.

“Will you be wanting this cloak in lightweight millim
cloth?” the shopkeeper asked as he continued taking notes and measurements.
“It’s very comfortable—even in our hottest weather.

“The cloak is not for me,” said Lasseter.

The shopkeeper looked up with a questioning expression which
he quickly replaced with his obsequious smile. “Yes, of course. You already
have a cloak,” he said. “Ah, for whom will the cloak be made?”

“For my nephew,” said Lasseter, indicating Skylar with his
hand.

This completely took Skylar by surprise. What did he need a
cloak for? He didn't want a cloak. There was no way he was going to start
dressing like his uncle.

“Yes, of course. For the boy,” said the shopkeeper,
immediately setting to work at taking Skylar’s measurements.

In a moment when the shopkeeper was looking away, Skylar
stole an imploring glance at his uncle. Lasseter only nodded. Skylar bit his
lip to keep from saying anything that would disrespect his uncle.

“The cloak will be made of paqua hair,” instructed Lasseter.

The shopkeeper paused and looked questioningly at Lasseter.
This time the smile did not return. “Paqua hair, you say?”

“Paqua hair.”

“Yes, of course, of course,” he said, sounding a bit
exhausted. “We are very low on paqua hair as we have little use for it. Usually
just for someone journeying to another part of the empire where the climate’s
colder. I imagine I can collect enough for this young man’s cloak. Yes,
indeed.”

“There we are,” he added, finishing up the measurements. “I
can have the cloak ready in three days’ time. Is there anything else I can
assist you with today?”

Skylar closed his eyes and prayed the answer would be no.

“An oilskin,” replied his uncle.

Skylar thought he could hear the shocked expression on the
shopkeeper’s face.

What in the universe does he need an oilskin for?

“An oilskin, you say?” said the shopkeeper with a halting
laugh. “Indeed, an oilskin...” He furrowed his brow and wrung his hands
nervously. “For the boy?”

“Yes,” said Lasseter.

Skylar’s groaned inside.

“Of course, of course,” said the shopkeeper. “How very
nice—an oilskin for the boy. Of course. Must be prepared. You never know, it
could rain on this big dust ball of a planet one day. Good to be prepared.

“I’m afraid I don’t carry any oilskins. Not very popular
around here, you know.” He chuckled briefly. “Yes, well I’m sure I can make one
in, shall we say, five days’ time? Two days after the cloak. I’ll need time to
treat the cloth, you know. Got to be done right.”

“I suppose that’ll have to do,” said Lasseter.

Soon after Skylar and his uncle stepped out of the
outfitter’s shop and into the heat of the afternoon. A hundred questions burned
on Skylar’s tongue. But he dared not ask until they were out of earshot from
the outfitter. Lasseter led Skylar along one of the many paths that ran in
switchbacks up the face of the Gorge.

“Uncle,” Skylar said when he thought it was safe, “why do I
need a cloak and an oilskin? It’s too hot for a cloak, and it never rains on
Haladras. Meteorologists claim it’s impossible.”

“Is it now?” replied his uncle. “Science does not control
the weather, Skylar.”

“So you think it’s going to rain?”

“I did not say that.”

“Then why would I need an oilskin?”

His uncle took several more paces before replying.

“You will understand soon enough. I only hope it will not be
too soon.”

This last comment he only muttered as if speaking to
himself.

Skylar yearned to ask more questions. But he knew from
experience that he would get nothing more from his uncle. While these questions
and riddles churned in Skylar’s head, his uncle led them on in silence. Shortly
after, he turned and entered another shop.

They found themselves in a dimly lit cave. It was not the
sort of shop Skylar had ever seen before. Tight rows of dingy shelves filled
most of the limited floor space. The shelves, which looked as though they might
crumble into dust at any moment, were cluttered with a strange array of glass
phials, flasks, and beakers. The glassware held bubbling liquids of putrid
green, or gelatinous substances of crimson red and sulfuric yellow. Some
contained dune beetles, orange salamandra, or other creatures unknown to
Skylar, all floating lifelessly in sallow liquids. A foul odor permeated the
dusty air.

Skylar plugged his nose and tried to stifle a cough.
Reluctantly, he followed his uncle deeper into the gloomy shop, where they
found a rickety old counter, covered with bones and jars of live gigapedes. A
small stone plaque, leaning against a stuffed desert rat, occupied one corner
of the counter. It read,
Mansyl Magorik—Apothecary Extraordinaire.

Skylar wondered what was so extraordinary about him. Whoever
he was, there was certainly no sign of him anywhere.

“Does anyone even run the shop anymore?” said Skylar.

Suddenly a figure popped up from behind the counter. Skylar started
and took an involuntary step backwards.

“Oh, yes. Someone does,” exclaimed the wizened old man.
“Mansyl Magorik, at your service.”

“I hope I didn’t frighten the boy,” he went on, chuckling
faintly. “Would you like a candy, my boy?”

The ancient man produced a glass jar from under the counter.
Skylar could not even begin to guess its contents. It looked less edible than
the dead insects on his shelves. Skylar forced a smile.

“No, thank you,” he said.

The apothecary chuckled again and returned the glass jar to
its spot under the counter.

“Well, then,” he said, turning his attention to Lasseter.
“What can I do for you today?”

The apothecary seemed undisturbed by Lasseter’s unusual
garb. Perhaps because he was used to being surrounded by strange things.

“I’m looking for limbreath,” said Lasseter.

The old apothecary’s gleeful manner immediately vanished.
One twiggy eyebrow raised, the slits of gray eyes narrowed, he stared long and
intently at Lasseter. He seemed to be trying to penetrate into Lasseter’s soul.
After a considerable silence, he said, “few have ever heard of limbreath. Even
fewer understand its virtues.”

He nodded his head slowly. “Yes, I have limbreath.”

The apothecary shuffled out from behind the counter, and
around Skylar and his uncle. Just behind them the old man mounted an old stool
and began delicately parting a cluster of bottles on the top shelf. The
resulting aperture was just large enough for his hand to pass through. The old
man reached in a trembling hand. Slowly, he withdrew his hand, which now
gripped a small wooden coffer.

Closing the aperture in the bottles, the apothecary
dismounted the stool, and returned to his place behind the counter, all the
while coddling the coffer as though it held a priceless treasure.

“Here it is,” said the little man, placing the old coffer
upon the counter. “Limbreath.”

With perfect solemnity, he produced a key from around his
neck and unlocked the coffer. From within the box he delicately withdrew a
single dried flower, diminutive in size and gray with age. It bore little
resemblance to the few flowers which somehow defied the harsh climate on
Haladras. The apothecary plucked a few lifeless petals and returned the
remainder of the flower to the coffer. The petals he gently placed into a small
capeskin pouch. Then, with evident reluctance the apothecary handed the pouch
to Lasseter.

“There is no charge,” said the old man. “It is a gift. I
cannot see your eyes to read them, but I believe you will use it wisely. That
is payment enough for me.”

Lasseter thanked the apothecary, and assured him he would
use it wisely.

Then Skylar and Lasseter left the shop.

“What is it?” asked Skylar, once they had walked a few
paces. “What do you need it for? What are its virtues, which seemed such a
secret?”

“It is a medicine—of sorts,” said Lasseter.

“Medicine? Are you sick?”

“No. And I pray we shall not have need of it.”

The limbreath was not the last of the strange provisions
Skylar and his uncle procured that afternoon. Skylar kept expecting his uncle
to purchase his usual goods, but he never did. They bought a few lengths of
cord, some paqua hair blankets, a few waterskin flasks, dried biscuits, cured
cheese, and a few other miscellaneous items. The last purchase was the only
typical one.

Skylar and his uncle stopped to purchase some teryleum. This
did not at first surprise Skylar. His uncle would buy several barrels of
teryleum about once a year. Why his uncle always needed so much, he did not
know. It was more than enough to power his sand rover for a whole year. Skylar
had never cared much to ask about it. And after all the strange items his uncle
had just purchased, this one was least on his mind.