Supplies

The red sun rose over the rocky outcrops and the ash coloured dust of the wastes. The dim light fell across the features of a kilirimi woman, illuminating her dark skin and hair, and the two horns curling out of her temples. Her name was Immis. A kilirimi woman, she had left Tarai about a week ago, taking the well trodden road through the plains. She had business in Korulf, and the journey there would be a difficult one.

 

She was dressed in travelling furs that would keep her warm, and she was laden with belts and hooks from which hung various provisions and small pieces of equipment. On her pack was a large pack, hanging from and stuffed into which were even more supplies: water skins, salted meats, flint and steel, a bed roll; everything she’d need for the two month walk through the waste, except for one thing.

 

Immis turned her back on the rising sun, and her almond-shaped eyes fell onto the small settlement behind her. It was situated out here on the frontier, where the last sparse grasses of the plains died away. While practically in the middle of nowhere, the town was on the start of a popular travel route through the wastes, one she herself was about to take, and by providing services to those embarking on it the inhabitants of the settlement were rather well off. Around the bounds of the town were animal pens and plots of farmland, and within was a comfortable inn where she had stayed the previous night.

 

The kilirimi was set for her journey, sans one thing. Having taken in the view of the barren yet strangely calming wastes, she headed back into town.

 

*

 

The breeder spoke of her livestock with pride. A short woman with straight horns that seemed too large for her stature, she gestured enthusiastically into the pen the two kilirimi now stood beside. Within the confines of the wooden fence several small human boys wandered about aimlessly or sat on the ground with vacant expressions on their faces. Their slim frames were covered by thin tunics, and around their necks were collars with small nametags.

 

“If exotic’s what you want, then I ain’t going to be able to do much f’you. No blondes or redheads or anything,” the farmer continued, and moved to lean on the fence, her arms crossed. “But good breeding manages to stamp out most a’the ugly, so if you want a pretty something to keep you goin’ through the wastes, my stock’s what y’want.” The breeder stuck a hand into a pouch of feed hanging from her belt, and then leaned over the fence. She held a hand out to the nearest human, who turned in her direction, stared blankly for a few seconds, and then tottered over and began to eat. “Uh,” the breeder looked back over to Immis, who was watching the feeding boy with a look of charmed bemusement, “Smart ain’t really something I can manage either. Think the breeding mighta stamped that out too, and I ain’t wasting money on educating these things. They’ll talk if you encourage’em enough, but don’t expect to be holdin’ no smart discussions with’em.” The farmer turned her attention back to the human eating out of her palm. “Ain’t that right, fella?” she said, clearly and slowly, then smiled expectantly. The boy turned his gaze to her and gave her what may have been a thoughtful look, while he continued to chew. However, in the end he said nothing, licked the last of the feed from the woman’s palm, then turned and walked away from the fence. The breeder turned back to Immis, wiped her hand off on her blouse, and then shrugged. “Well, can’t blame’em. Like I said, can’t do smart.”

 

Immis laughed and leant on the fence next to the farmwoman. “That’s fine. I just need one that can follow instructions, won’t fall flat on his face while we walk and can keep me sustained for a good while.”

 

“Sure thing, none of these’ll drop dead from exhaustion, provided you don’t push’em too hard. Walking to Korulf can be tough on anyone, and young’uns stamina ain’t perfect, but I doubt whichever one you buy’ll drop dead.” The breeder looked out over the pen and her face once again lit with pride. “Not perfect, but they’re good boys.”

 

Immis’s gaze travelled over the small crowd of humans, before she pointed at one: a pale, dark haired boy, with soft, round features. He sat cross legged on the ground, managing to look slightly less baffled by life than the others in the pen, though his wide, round eyes still had a certain look of vacancy in them. “What about that one?”

 

“Sure, whatever you want,” the breeder nodded. She pulled herself over the fence and into the pen, before heading over to the selected child. Taking him under the arms, the farmer picked up the boy and went back over to Immis, placing the boy down on the other side of the fence before her customer, before she herself climbed back over. The sudden movement seemed to have surprised the boy slightly, but he had not been put into a panic: he had seen plenty of his fellows carried around, showed off and sold enough times to have some idea as to what was happening. Immis bent over and peered at the name tag on the boy’s collar: Tat, it read.

 

“He’ll cost you twenty auks. If you don’t want him freezin’ out in the wastes, I got jackets their size for another two auks. I’ll throw the leash for the collar in free, though!” The farmer laughed again, and Immis searched through one of her pockets. She took out a handful of brass coloured coins, counted out the appropriate amount, and then dropped them into the open palm of the breeder. “Thanks muchly. Feel free to get acquainted however y’feels appropriate, I’ll go get y’jacket and collar.”

 

*