The Burning Ground

2. Yaqshowal: under siege

The land around the harbor at Yaqshowal was grass from horizon to horizon, grass dotted with herds of ruminants whose thick loose skin fell from their spines in folds that shifted with every step they took as they wandered about on their own, their herdmals dead or fled. Dark red glows marked the places where carcasses roasted in huge pits to feed the Pixa phelas which had gathered there to attack the city.

Big guns boomed continually. Those belonging to the phelas were mounted on massive wagons pulled by teams of lumbering red and white skazz; smaller wagons moved with them, piled with shells almost as large as the mals loading them into the guns.

Guns inside the city answered them, the shells rarely dangerous to the phelas though, as Shadith lingered in the clouds above the city, she saw one munitions pile go up and take a gun wagon with it.

The harbor was lit with strings of naked lightbulbs; the harsh shadows they cast seemed to breed swarms of Yaqshowans shouting and shoving, waving bags of coin as they tried to buy their way onto the few ships that were tied up there.

The radio station was deserted except for a single nervous mal who twitched at every loud noise, but kept a close eye on the spools as the wire snaked past the heads, sending out a mix of music, messages, and pleas for help.

He squealed as Shadith burst in, took a look at the rifle she held, and sat where he was, sweat popping out on his temples. In the recent past his crest must have been a bright orange and green, but the hair paint was flaking off, and now it simply looked diseased. His face was thin and pinched, with a network of tiny lines across it that deepened about his eyes and mouth.

The lines deepened even further when Shadith pushed back the hood of the robe and he saw her face.

“I have some songs I want you to record and play,” she said. With her free hand she dug into a belt pouch, pulled out half a dozen heavy silver coins and, one at a time, tossed them at, his feet, the metallic chinks as they landed loud in the small room.

“Ah. I think I know which you mean. A sailor I met had a song wire that got rather a lot of attention.” He glanced at the coins, his mouth curving in a tight, sardonic smile. “Happy to do business with you, kazi.”