Chapter 5

Meanwhile, Ninaz had finally woken and begun to recover from the snake bite and subsequent amputation of his left arm. Dittal had taken good care of him, and the two men bonded as they waited for the return of their younger companions. They grew anxious from waiting, however, and decided it may be best to pursue the others; since Ninaz had recovered enough to travel.

While following the path laid out by the Shammusmi as Taermus and Tiama had shown them, the pair came across a group of foreign tribals. Both Ninaz and Dittal had traded many times with foreign tribes, and were optimistic about interacting with this group. Once the interaction began, however, the men noticed a certain anxiety about the group. The oldest among them could hardly have been full grown by Dittal's estimation. Each of their eyes were set wide, and they spoke to each other in short bursts and frustrated tones. They whispered in each other's ears as they looked upon Ninaz and Dittal with graveness.

The Baltu pair had seen this kind of behavior once before. For a short time, towards the end of the famine that the Baltus endured nearly 20 years previously, the tribe had accepted the rule of a mad man. They never would have accepted him as a leader in normal circumstances, but they were starving and desperate, and he promised change. The madman imposed all kinds of rules and standards, as well as punishments for failing to adhere to these policies, of which the list grew almost daily. He rewarded those who reported others' infractions. There was no trust among tribe members, no sincerity. This led to the entire tribe living in constant fear of punishment, even those favored by the madman were terrified of falling out of favor.

They were finally saved by the Shaman of that time, who declared that Ilatikia would end their famine, but only if they sacrificed their leader. The tribe bound the madman, stripped him and covered his body in honey. They shoved him into a hollow, termite infested log. Then, they floated the log into a festering pond. Dittal did not think the comment significant, but as they observed the beginnings of the madman's slow death, he heard the Shaman softly proclaim, "So is the fate of the Tyrant." Shortly after, the trees began sprouting healthy fruit again and game returned to their hunting lands. Dittal often wondered if this perceived miracle was really just the result of the people being relieved of their state of fear.

The group that Dittal and Ninaz encountered now reminded them of the frantic, fear-driven Baltus that lived under the madman. Dittal, keeping a calm demeanor, spoke with a clear voice as they told the group their story. While the tribes spoke different dialects, these dialects all came from the same ancient language, which was said to have been taught to humans by Ilatikia herself. This made communication between the tribes possible, though still somewhat difficult.

After recounting their story, Dittal asked if the group had seen their companions. One of the younger individuals impulsively answered "we haven't heard of any foreigners around here lately" but an older, though still young, man corrected his younger companion. "Ahem, well, we haven't, but maybe one of the others have. You two should come with us back to our village, and speak with the leaders."

There was something off about this young man, who seemed to be in charge of the group. His eyes were lifeless, his mannerisms unnatural and forced. None of the foreigners offered their names, nor any of the courtesies that the Baltus were accustomed to when dealing with friendly foreigners in the past. Despite their instincts warning them against it, Ninaz and Dittal agreed to accompany the group back to their village, hoping that the leaders might aid them. As they fell in with the group, their uneasiness rose as the foreigners surrounded them. The only difference between them and captives, at this point, was that they had not been bound.

When they reached the foreign village, they were taken directly to a huge tent with a raised platform where two obese men lounged in lavish, throne-like seats as frightened-looking women fluttered about them. Each man had a woman behind them, massaging their enormous, gelatinous bodies. Another set of women dapped and wiped the men's mouths each time they took sloppy bites from the diverse range of foods that other women carried on wooden slabs, holding them patiently until the men decided they were finished.

As Ninaz and Dittal approached the stage, the men completely ignored their presence. Ninaz began to speak but was silenced when the dead-eyed one that invited them placed a firm hand on his shoulder and made a soft "shhhh" sound in his ear from behind, raising the hair on his neck and making his body stiffen. There were several armed men that stood guard inside the tent, and many more just outside. The hope of this ending well for the Baltus faded and was replaced by the fear of just how bad it would end. They stood motionless for several long minutes as the sounds of lip smacking, guttural swallows, gluttonous moans of pleasure, and frequent gas excretions filled the tent.

Finally, the men finished eating. They gazed upon the pair of outsiders as if they were a disappointing prize, before addressing their man. "So what's this?" The man on the right said with a bored and sneering tone.

"They're Baltus, Oh Great Leaders. We caught them trespassing in our lands- uh" the otherwise confident man fearfully faltered with his words, "I mean in your lands, Oh Magnificent Ones."

Ninaz and Dittal looked at each other with concern, having realized for certain now that they had been escorted into a trap. They were about to run, when men behind them grabbed them and thrust them to their knees. Dittal tried to rise and fight when he felt the cold touch of a spear tip at his throat. Ninaz was held in a similar position, and they both accepted their fate.