Braka: 3

They reached the first of their planned destinations a day later. It was the port where ships from Keen had once landed their wares before raiders made shipping all but impossible.

Harbend saw stone walls rising higher than any of the rooftops inside, and they had to pass through the gates before he could see any of the houses. The town was smaller than he expected. For all the important trade once passing through it was very little more than a harbor with some houses attached to it. Two, maybe three thousand souls made this place their home, and only if he included the surrounding farms. Harbend couldn't imagine why anyone even bothered with walling an over-sized village like this.

He looked at the harbor. It lacked the defenses of Keen's ports, but he couldn't see any signs of damage. The raiders apparently didn't sail here, but why should they? With no ships coming from Keen it was of no use for anyone but the sea hunters, and from the size of the town there couldn't been enough of them to justify warships to come here. Gods! If he didn't know it was here all traders to Braka sailed there wasn't anything justifying anyone sailing here.

That was one more reason to continue with the caravans. That and the people living on the Sea of Grass. An unexpected bonus, and they were closer to Keen than Braka. Close enough to swell any caravan going to Braka with traders from Ri Khi and Erkateren who didn't want to be away from home for too long. Those added wagons would pay for the extra escort needed for climbing the mountains, maybe even for setting up a smaller roadhouse on the Sea of Grass. That would make the mountain pass as safe as it would ever get.

Harbend would like that to happen. Every roadhouse away from the main roads eventually gave birth to a small town, and they all served as hubs for hunters, travelers and of course traders. One built on the plains would become something of a port if given enough time. It could happen during his own lifetime. He smiled at the thought. It would be something to be remembered for. The indirect founder of an important trading town.

#

"Would you like me to scratch your back?"

"Mm, yes, do," Nakora murmured and turned in the narrow bunk. She stretched and smiled, allowing herself to enjoy Harbend's hands on her back. Cramped or not it was still a luxurious feeling, and she intended to the most out of it.

"Like it?"

"Uh um."

"Want me to again, later?"

On the verge of lazily answering him she heard the edge in his voice and caught herself. "How much later?" she asked with apprehension and a little fear.

"As much as would please you," he answered.

"When we return?" Now, she had said it.

"Yes, I think I would enjoy that very much," Harbend whispered, and digging his lips into her back he fell very, very silent.

Tears came to her eyes. Would she dare sharing her life with him? Would she dare not to? But in the end the answer gave itself as she finally admitted what she had known for some time now. "I love you."

Harbend hugged her closer before echoing her words.

#

Harbend thanked the harbor master and mounted his horse. The trade had been good, and he didn't mind transporting wares from the port to the capital in exchange for a slightly better price for the goods he sold here. They even managed to buy a fair amount of livestock, and he was already longing for the change in diet. Nothing wrong with horseflesh and lizard, but a change, any change was more than welcome.

They snaked slowly through the landscape. The progress was fast enough for him though. Within an eightday they would reach Belgera, the capital of Braka, and there the real trading would take place. It would be the reward everyone in the caravan waited for.

Harbend smiled and hoped no one saw him. He probably looked as if he was growling. They were all happy now, looking forward to reaching their goal, but he knew there would be a return journey as well, and it was bound to be just as slow and time consuming as their way here.

Would there be protests, the same kind that had forced him to order the executions? No, probably not. They would be on their way home then. Harbend hoped he was right. Never again would he give the order to kill anyone just because they voiced a different opinion than his own, no matter how dangerous such opinions were. You didn't kill people for saying out loud what they were thinking. That wasn't right.

Harbend smiled again, a more honest smile this time. He must have spent too much time with Arthur. Soft Arthur from his soft world of strange powers. Then Harbend remembered the weapon Arthur had used in the mountain pass and later in the mad rush for freedom in Gaz. If such things were made for personal protection there was no end to what they could make for aggression. There was nothing soft behind curbing that kind of power.