Western Wild

From Almeopedia

“Tell us about the Western Wild”, said the taller and larger of the two men— Bannes, he said his name was. Bannes was bearded and jovial; Sahoro had trouble picturing him lasting in the wilderness for a week.

“If you know about it,” said the shorter man— Dannes, wiry, suspicious, with a wispy goatee. He and Sahoro had taken an instant dislike to each other.

“You can be there tomorrow if you like,” said Sahoro. “Travel in style— take a carriage from here to Pelym. Cross the river; just 20 cemisî away you’ll come to Šari. The Great Western Road starts there. Twenty minutes’ walk and you’re in the Western Wild.”

“So we’ve learned from our map,” said Dannes, showing a cheap printed map.

Sahoro grimaced. Those things would put him out of business one day.

“Very well,” he said. “What are you looking for? Better inns and drugs than you’ll find in Verduria? Sualšor or Akhnor. Boys and girls you can fuck for free ’cause it’s their religious duty? Shrine of the Holy Perversion. A challenging fight? The Kazčalî Fransomî or Ecaä Niruora. A dungeon crawl? Plenty of abandoned castles; I know a couple untouched ones. Enlightenment from big blue people? Telarsanië, if they’ll let you in.”

“All that is in Lácatur,” said the short man, smugly, with a hand on his map.

“How far does your map go?”

Dannes opened the map and checked. “Pérecaln.”

“Your map won’t get you through the mountains,” commented Sahoro. “Still, not that hard to get to. Keep going and you'll hit the elcari. Pleasant fellows, usually, at least if you’ve brought them something they like. Farther on is Čomolunma— biggest mountain in the world, or so they say— certainly the biggest I’ve climbed. Or if you prefer flatter terrain there’s the Irenja, to the north. Good trading at Funky; good music, too.”

“What's west of that?” asked Bannes.

“West of that is Leru Leru. Red people there, speak a funny language, every word is about two feet long. From there you can go into the Rau jungle, but there’s no need— anything good in the jungle, someone’s brought it to Leru Leru anyway. Head south from there and you can visit the múrtani. Maybe you’ll even make it back.”

“And west of them?”

“A long, poor, hot country,” said Sahoro. “No towns; villages where if you stole a pot and a dog you’d have cut their wealth in half. There’s a village near Lake Cuótč that has, I swear, the ugliest women in Ereláe. There’s a region south of there, in the mountains, that not even múrtani go to, because of the witch that lives there.”

“What’s west of that?” pursued Bannes.

Sahoro sighed. Like these overfed city-dwellers would make it even as far as Šari. It wasn’t good business to admit that he had no idea; he’d been as far as Lake Cuótč just once, and never set foot in the witch’s realm. “Not many travellers get past the carnivorous plants,” he said.

“So they stopped you?”

“No, no. There's a way past, on nights when just Naunai is out, and you’ve prepared certain herbs. If you want to head that way tell me, though— the herbs don’t grow in the west; if we can’t pick them up here in the city, we’ll have to stop in Inganoḣa.”

“Suppose we did,” said Dannes. “What’s further west?”

“Míddigur,” said Sahoro. “Land of the Giants, and hiding in a few places, some Ogres. You may have heard that they’re all gone, but don’t you believe it. You think Arcaln is big; well, they could use it as a bathtub, maybe.”

“When do you get to Téllinor?” asked Bannes. “You have to get there eventually.”

“You don’t,” insisted Sahoro. “No one’s ever gone overland to Téllinor.”

“Maybe another guide,” said Dannes to his brother, sotto voce but not very.

“You get to Téllinor that way, come back to me so I can shake your hands. And then go to the University; they’ll write a book about you.”

“We’ll get in touch with you,” said Bannes, amiably. “You say you know the northern lands, too?”

“Been to Nan by land and by sea,” said Sahoro; one of those modes was a lie, but it didn’t seem to matter at this point.

“I know a guy at the Corona who’s been above the Zone of Fire,” said Dannes.

They left coins to pay for their beers and Sahoro’s, and went out. Sahoro sighed. Damned maps, he thought. Everybody thinks they’re an explorer these days. Who do they think drew those maps in the first place?