Odd, Bold Fellows

Court III

Dirk rested upon a skin of gazelle as a crazed man danced, hunched over the Imperial. He feared the shaman would step on him, but the deft feet of the older tribal were sure and certain.

Dirk felt the bones in his forearm begin to set and mend, and he clenched his teeth against the pain. The ritual was different, but the mending of bone always hurt. Dirk had been through this before. After an hour of excruciating pain, he left to join his fellows.

The party stood outside a hut made of a wide clay wall, with skillfully woven grass serving as a roof. The basatho was not extraordinary by any means. If anything, it was muted, hiding in the scattering of homes that had dyed stone, paint, and even frescoes. Even the ox hide that covered the entrance was less interesting than the leopard or zebra that adorned other entrances.

K'chak insisted his people never stood within the home. Even children learned the need to be on one's feet as a need to be outside. It amused the tall warrior that such admonishment was necessary, but his friends were short enough to misbehave like children without intention.

K'chak crouched and ducked inside the basatho, into the cool dark room. The Chieftain, a wizened man, white of hair and eyebrows, awaited. The elder sat upon a red and gold mat of grass, enshrouded within a cloak of colorful feathers.

The returning son of the tribe sat, his odd friends to either side of him. They settled and waited, as K'chak instructed them to do. The elder would speak first, the supplicant would answer.

The elder drew a ram horn to his side, using it as both support and hearing aid. He hugged the sturdy curl of horn, the open bottom flattened for the purpose, as he tilted his head against the bored tip. "Do your friends speak?"

K'chak gestured to his right. "Brother Pog, Warrior of the Goblins, is learning. Brother Dirk is an idiot."

"You are all idiots! Why have you come?" The old man was impatient with K'chak's claim of brotherhood to the odd fellows.

"I am sent as emissary and harbinger by the Goblin Queen, to inform you she will be sending goods in hope of exchange and discussions of future trade."

The elder looked to Pog, not eager to deny the offering, but not happy with thoughts of goblins running around the savanna. As the chieftain thought, the dwarf made unintelligent noises. K'chak quickly added, "They will be brought by people, of course."

The adventuring men flinched as the inevitable skirl filled the hut, as Pog reacted, "I'm people! Goblins are people." The response, though accented, was in the warrior's language.

K'chak quickly answered, "You know what I mean. Humans!"

Pog hopped once in agitation. "And you have to be human to be people?"

As K'chak stammered, the elder saw the struggling young man was still an idiot. The wise leader knew in the coming dry season, the goblins would perish for want of water.

The wandering tribesman was still proud, and this strange goblin was quick to fight. Then there was the Imperial, no doubt paying penance for some ancestor's sin he could not understand himself.

"Get out of my home, idiots! Tell the Queen I am here and smiling. At her. Not you. Go!"

"K'chak! We had a deal!" The warrior was turning to leave, but he sighed. He knew Dirk's sales pitch well. As he began to recite it without enthusiasm, Dirk lifted his shield and grinned.

The chieftain immediately thought of a purpose for these bold fellows.