Once Around the Realms

Chapter 18

"Maztica," Volo repeated.

"Yeah," Curtis interjected, "that's what the man said."

"Somehow I didn't think we were in Kara-Tur anymore," Passepout added.

"Maztica?" Shurleen repeated the place's name, though this time as a question. "Where is Maztica?"

"It's on the whole other side of the world," Volo explained. "It's on the other side of the Trackless

Sea, farther than fabled Evermeet. It was colonized a few years ago by conquerors and settlers from the Empire of the Sands and the island kingdom of Lantan."

"I see you have heard of our fair land," the man who welcomed them replied in impeccable Common.

"And you are originally from Faerun, the Empire of the Sands, I would guess," Volo continued. "A former soldier, I would say, though apparently one who hasn't seen much action or physical work in the last year or so."

"You are a most excellent master of the powers of observation," the man replied. "What is your name?"

"I am Volothamp Geddarm, master traveler of all Toril," Volo announced proudly.

"I have heard of you," the man replied, "and your guides, but surely you are not writing one on the continent of Maztica."

Volo chose his worlds carefully.

"No, not at the present time, though I'm sure I will get around to it one of these days. At the present time, I and my friends are engaged on a world tour, you might say," Volo explained. "We sort of made a wrong turn in Kara-Tur, passed through a portal, and came out here."

"Uh-hum." Shurleen cleared her throat.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Volo apologized. "This is the lovely Shurleen Laduce Bleth."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Shurleen said to the handsome gentleman, offering him her hand.

He graciously accepted and kissed it. "The pleasure is mine," the man replied.

"And this is my good friend, Passepout," Volo continued.

"The thespian," Passepout clarified, "son of the famed thespians Catinflas and Idle."

"Honored," the man replied, giving the thespian a firm handshake.

"And our traveling companion, and jack of all trades, Curtis," Volo concluded the introductions.

"Curtis," the man repeated, with a faint nod of his head to the young beachcomber.

"And you are…?" Curtis inquired, a trace of insolence in his voice.

"I am Rurk," the man replied. "The, urn, governor of Phantasia. That is what we call this settlement."

"What settlement?" Curtis asked. "All I see is the edge of a desert and a rocky ridge."

"True, true," Rurk replied, "but beyond that ridge lies Phantasia, a land worthy of your wildest dreams. Come. You shall be my guests. Herve, run ahead, and tell the servants to ready the guest quarters."

"Yes, boss," the halfling replied, scurrying ahead through a pass in the rocky ridge.

"Herve is my right-hand halfling, you might say," Rurk explained. "Part interpreter, part manager, he helps me keep things running smoothly and minimizes the troubles with the natives."

"He is a native?" Volo asked.

"Well, yes and no," Rurk explained. "He is a native of Maztica, but from the lands north of here, where I first landed when I came here. He was hired at our camp to take care of certain menial duties and took quickly to the Common tongue. I hired him as my interpreter, and when duty called for me to come south, well, obviously he came along."

"I see," Volo replied. "What was the purpose of your mission, coming south, I mean?"

"Questions, questions," Rurk replied, shaking his head in dismissal. "There is plenty of time for questions later. Even the loveliest desert flower will wilt if left in the sun too long, and I have no desire to subject Miss Bleth to such a risk. Follow me. It is only a short walk to my humble dwelling, where shade and refreshments await. We can continue our getting to know each other a little better later." Rurk then brushed off some seemingly imaginary trail dust from his perfectly tailored doublet of light, gauzy material, and offered his arm to Shurleen, saying, "Miss Bleth, if you will do me the honor."

"Charmed, I am sure," she replied, accepting his arm and falling into step beside him as he set off along the path that Herve had taken a few moments ago.

Volo looked to the others, and inquired, "Shall we?"

"Charmed, I'm sure," Curtis replied in a tone meant to mock Shurleen.

"You know, I can't put my finger on it, but there's something about that guy that I don't like," Passepout offered.

"I know," Volo replied, "but right now he's the only game in town."

The three fell into step and followed the route Rurk had taken.

The settlement known as Phantasia was little more than a few clusters of huts and hovels around a large estate manor house that Rurk referred to as the governor's palace. The natives of the area were of a darker color, similar to that of Herve the halfling, and were for the most part short, with muscular builds and intense black eyes.

As Rurk would pass, the natives would bow, saying, "Mis Ta Rurk," their tone highly respectful.

"That is what they call me," Rurk explained. "They once overheard Herve calling me mister, and they assumed that was my title. I've seen no reason to dissuade them."

Along the way to the mansion they also passed an arena-like structure composed of a playing field between two high parallel walls. They also passed several boiling works where fruit was distilled into a sort of wine juice, and where sap from nearby rubber trees was melted and molded into strips for weaving and tying. Several native women were in the process of weaving the strands into a hammock. The mansion itself had a Tethyrian flavor to its architecture: a large veranda-like porch where several woven thrones had been placed, each framed by two servants, one holding a tray with a pitcher and a cup, the other holding a huge plumed fan.

"Here we are," Rurk announced. "Take a seat and be comfortable."

Rurk escorted Shurleen to the throne on the farthest right, and then seated himself immediately to her left. The others followed suit, Volo next to him, Passepout next, and Curtis on the end.

Curtis, however, did not remain seated long, and preferred to sip from his drink while walking back and forth on the porch, causing the servant holding the fan a great deal of difficulty. The servant continued to follow at a respectful distance but had to be close enough to still cool the guest of his master, Rurk.

Curtis quickly became frustrated at running into the plume fan every time he turned around, and finally said to the servant, "Will you just leave me alone?"

A look of mortal terror passed on the servant's face.

Rurk clapped his hands, and Herve appeared at his side. The two exchanged whispers, at which point Herve said something to the servant, who immediately responded with a relieved look and left the porch.

"There is no reason to be uncomfortable or nervous, Curtis," Rurk explained. "The servants are solely here for our comfort. And I do hope my guests are comfortable."

"Why, sure," Shurleen replied, having a peeled grape popped into her mouth.

"And we greatly appreciate your hospitality," Volo offered. "So how many are you?"

"Excuse me," Rurk replied, not quite sure about the question.

"Others from Faerun in this settlement," Volo clarified, "in the province for which you are governor."

"Oh, I see," Rurk replied carefully. "I came down from the North with twenty of my best men. Ten are still here in similar accommodations along the ridge. The others fell victim to the hazards of this paradise known as Maztica. Disease, accidents, you know the risks."

"That flag over there," Volo pointed out. "I don't recognize it."

"It was our divisional flag."

"I see," said Volo, seemingly dropping the conversation.

Rurk stood up.

"My newfound friends from Faerun, accommodations have been made for you in my humble abode.

It is now siesta time, and I am sure that you will all want to rest. Herve will escort you gentlemen to your room, while I will personally escort the lovely Shurleen to her private accommodations."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Shurleen responded, once again taking Rurk's arm.

"Mind if I tag along?" Curtis asked, a feeling of uneasiness in his voice.

"Yes, I do," Shurleen replied brusquely. "It's about time I was treated to some privacy."

Rurk and Shurleen continued down one veranda passageway, while the three male travelers followed the halfling down the other.

"I think there's something rotten in this province in Maztica," Curtis whispered churlishly, "and I don't like it."

Passepout, his heart gradually recovering from being broken, tried to lend a sympathetic ear to the young beachcomber. "I don't like the way that Rurk has his arms all over Shurleen, any better than you do, but you have to admit he's a hospitable host."

"For now," Volo interjected, "for now."

The room that they were escorted to was a more than adequate common room with three beds for reclining, three more woven thrones, and a bell cord to summon servants.

"If you require anything, please feel free to ring the bell. These are your room servants," Herve instructed, indicating three heavyset women standing in the hall. "They don't speak Common, but I am sure that you can make your desires known to them."

One of the servants Volo recognized as one of the hammock weavers from the rubber plant. She was as wide as the chubby thespian, though not as tall, and possessed a face that might have been attractive for a warthog. She gave Passepout a knowing wink and a smile as she closed the door behind Herve.

"I think she likes you," Curtis said to Passepout.

"Not if I can help it," replied the chubby thespian, a shiver of revulsion passing through his entire body.

"Isn't it strange that with such a large mansion available, Rurk would seemingly situate us at the complete opposite end of the building from Shurleen?" Volo pointed out.

"I noticed that," Curtis agreed. "That is why I offered to tag along, to at least see where he was putting her."

"I'm sure that was the only reason," Passepout jibed.

Curtis did not respond, and Passepout thought better of pushing the issue. He changed the subject. "And what was all that business about the flag, Volo?"

"Indeed," Volo replied. "I'm afraid that we are in the hands of a renegade Tethyrian mercenary warlord who has deserted his unit to the north and set up his own fantasy kingdom in this remote settlement."

"That's why there is only the division's flag, his flag," Curtis agreed.

"But what does that mean to us?" Passepout asked.

"It means," Volo replied, "that for the time being he can do anything he wants with us."

A little over an hour later, Herve returned to the quarters of the three travelers to take them down to dinner in the room behind the main veranda where they had been sitting earlier that day. Rurk was already seated at the head of the table when they arrived, and indicated that they should join him, leaving the seat by him free for Shurleen, who had yet to arrive for the meal.

The lovely Miss Bleth informs me that you will probably be wishing to resume your travels eastward as soon as possible," Rurk said, then resumed sipping a cup of distilled fruit wine.

"Yes," Volo replied, not wishing to give too much away, "we have pressing business awaiting us in Suzail."

Just then, Shurleen entered the hall, or rather more correctly floated into the hall, her pampered, beauteous body held aloft a foot off the ground by the gown of feathers she was wearing.

Passepout and Curtis's jaws dropped.

"Isn't she angelic?" Rurk commented.

None contested his observation, as Shurleen floated to her place.

"Plume magic?" Volo asked.

"But of course," Rurk replied. "The natives here are particularly adept at it. I've even seen them constructing veritable rafts of enchanted plumes to lift their dwellings off the ground during times of flood. The floating power in these feathers seems inexhaustible."

"Quite," Volo agreed. "I bet your patrons back in Faerun are making quite a pretty coin in profits on your exports."

"Their interests are no longer any concern of mine," Rurk replied, a touch of deadly seriousness apparent in his tone. "No doubt you realize I no longer claim allegiance to my patrons, as you call them. Your observation about the divisional flag, or shall I say that the lack of any other, made that clear to me, so let's drop the facade."

"Agreed," Volo replied. "All we want is to continue our way eastward. We have no desire to expose your private kingdom to the scrutiny of other concerns here or in Faerun. So with your blessing we'd like to resume our journey tomorrow, giving you our word of honor that as far as anyone is concerned, we've never met a Mis Ta Rurk, nor come across a settlement of plumeweavers, camouflaged by a ridge of rocks that obscures them for miles."

"I'm afraid things are not quite that simple," Rurk replied. "Of course, I desire your discretion, but I also desire one of your companions."

Shurleen dropped her cup and looked up in amazement and fear.

Rurk looked to her the way one might look at an uneasy child.

"Yes, my dear," he replied. "I have no illusions that your flirtations masked anything except your girlish ego, and that if given the chance to choose, you would undoubtedly desire to continue along your way with your companions. Fortunately for me, I hold all the cards, and I think it will be better if you stay."

"Why, you!" Curtis yelled, jumping to his feet, and about to rush to Rurk's end of the table.

Rurk clapped his hands, and six Tethyrian mercenaries appeared, fully armed with bows and arrows fletched with enchanted plumes.

"These are some of the men who joined me on my excursion. I wouldn't advise causing any trouble as their arrows are fletched for accuracy by means of enchantment."

"Curtis, sit down!" Volo ordered. "What do you want, Rurk?"

Curtis resumed his seat as Rurk made his pitch. "Sometimes it's boring being a god for these primitive savages," Rurk said. "Sometimes I need a little challenge."

"Get to the point," Volo pressed.

"Of course," Rurk conceded. "Of course I would love to take the lovely Miss Bleth as my mistress, but I'm sure you wouldn't stand for that."

"Right," Volo agreed.

"Not that you can really do anything about it. One of my men is a rather powerful chemist who could undoubtedly come up with a potion that will make her my slave in a matter of moments… but that wouldn't be sporting. What I suggest is that you three take part in a game against three of my best athletes tomorrow. It's called the ball game. You might have heard of it."

"I have," Volo replied.

"Good," Rurk continued. "If you win, you are free to go, if not, the lovely Shurleen becomes my mistress."

"No!" Shurleen screamed, bursting into tears. She was quickly spirited away by several of Rurk's more attractive female servants, evidently his other mistresses.

Volo fingered his beard for a moment and thought.

"How about this?" the master traveler counter-offered. "If we win, you will have your plume-weavers weave us a raft that will be capable of flying us back to Faerun."

"One already exists," Rurk interrupted, "you never know when you will have to make a fast getaway. Sometimes even peaceful and stupid savages like these get restless."

"One might say that this would be fairer compensation for our efforts," Volo pointed out.

"Agreed," Rurk assented. "The game will be tomorrow at midday out on the field we passed getting here. You three against my champions, those tall fellows over there."

Volo and his companions turned to see the individuals that he was referring to. Each was a good foot taller than any of the natives they had seen so far, and all were built like oxen.

"Don't let their bulk fool you," Rurk pointed out. "They have the reflexes and speed of jaguar men."

"Wonderful," Passepout replied, sensing imminent doom.

"And one more thing," Rurk added. "My home court has a particular rule attached to all games. You lose, you die. Death before dishonor."

Passepout fainted, and Curtis revived him with a cup of water.

The three companions ate the rest of their meal in silence, all along Volo fingering his beard in thought, as if trying to come up with a plan.

As the meal was brought to a close, Rurk stood up and said, "I assure you that no harm will come to Miss Bleth tonight. I am more than willing to wait to collect the victor's spoils."

"That goes without saying," Volo replied, adding, "One thing, though. I understand that the game is played in sandals. Would it be possible for us to obtain three pairs in the morning, so that we can break them in for the game?"

"But of course," Rurk replied. "What kind of host would I be not to grant such a simple request?"

Once again Rurk clapped his hands, and Herve appeared to lead Volo and the others back to their room.