The Slime Farmer - 48 The Missing Caravans

“I’m not proficient enough to teach the Spear of the Falling Star.”

“It’s called the Falling Star?” Renne perked up. “It even has an awesome name! You said you could teach spear arts though.”

It was two days after they had caught him in that clearing, and Defi was already overwhelmed. “I said I could teach two. The Falling Star Spear is not one of them.”

“What if I wanted to learn that?”

“I do recall telling the three of you to tell me if you leave to anywhere?”

“It was just Falie!”

“And you walked all the way to Sarel’s homestead then? Alone?”

“We had Turq!”

He lifted a brow at her. The slime was on his head. He’d missed Turq, who’d been accompanying the three more often. Mostly because he couldn’t stand Markar’s hovering or Bree’s pouting when Turq was not with them.

“Turq only works against menacing beasts, not people.” He pushed the pole into the water, digging into the sand under them.

It had been nearly two weeks since Renne, Markar, and Bree had come to live with him. They wanted to visit the orphanage, and Defi obliged. They were likely to be returning there in a few days anyway.

Today was the day of the savras delivery.

Even telling the children that he’d be on the way to town early did not deter them. He still delayed his trip until after an earlier than usual morning meal.

“If you can’t listen to simple instruction, how can you have the discipline to learn combat arts?”

“They’re different things!”

“No, they’re not.”

“Renne, it’s fine.” Markar spoke up.

“But!”

“Really.”

It was times like this that Defi could see how Markar was the oldest, even only two months older than Renne. Usually, the two decided things together, or switched who was in the lead depending on interest and ability. Markar was the planner, the watcher and scout. Renne was the point, the one who caught the eye and charged in headfirst.

With older siblings like that, how would innocent, quiet Bree grow up?

He resolved to check in on them more than once a week, when they returned to the orphanage.

Still. What was it precisely, that Markar wanted to know? The older of the two boys in his current care trailed a hand along the water, entertaining Bree by startling small fish into sight.

He didn’t ask.

“Don’t talk about the other day or my abilities when in town, if you would. Not to anyone.”

They acquiesced easily.

He smiled at them. “Thank you.”

The docks came into sight.

“Oh, there’s a lot of boats!” Renne scrambled to the bow.

They’d never seen the docks this early, it seemed. “There are more earlier. We’re just catching the end of the dawn market.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Before the sun breaches the horizon, the whole market area is lit by lamps. The fish are so fresh they’re jumping in the tubs. I think there’s a night market as well, but that is mostly cooked food.”

Many of the fisher families who could not afford enough containers inscribed with mid-grade preservation emblems chose to cook the morning’s catch and sell it rather than use minor preservation to re-sell it the next day. Minor preservation emblems did not completely keep the fish and seafood as fresh when they were just hauled in from the lake.

Defi docked and disembarked with the children. He brought up two empty tubs with him.

He needed to visit Grenia and Marte for his daily supply of crab shells and carp bones. The children followed him, looking around in interest. He felt a tug on his breeches. He glanced at Bree, who was walking close, had grabbed him in slight unease at the noise of hawkers.

He hung the tubs from his shoulder by the ropes and lifted the boy into his arms.

Bree grabbed onto Defi’s coat. “Where?”

“I need to buy food for the slimes,” Defi answered. The three had already seen him mix feed for the slimes before.

Marte, the younger of his two usual suppliers, smiled at them as he neared. “Ah, young Defi. These are not your children, I assume?”

“Do I look that old?”

“I would have swatted you if after all this time, you were hiding a wife.”

“Lovely lady, it is only you in my eyes.”

Marte huffed, with a grin. “If only my husband heard that, it would give him such a jolt, the overbearing old man.”

There was such fondness in her tone.

“For you, I would fight a dozen husbands,” he claimed grandly.

She laughed. “Oh come now, do I look so vigorous? Introduce me to this young brother of yours instead.”

“This is Bree. He’s seven. The two over there are Markar and Renne. They’re twelve.” He put Bree down and slipped the tubs from his shoulder. The rope was starting to hurt.

“Good morning, madam elder,” Bree said.

Marte’s smile widened, in the manner of people watching a kitten hugging and playing with its own tail. “How polite!”

She patted his cheek, gentle. “Ah, how sad that all my grandchildren are grown. I feel the need to tell them to hurry up and give me angels as adorable as you. Eh, young Defi?”

Didn’t she say the oldest was about his age? Defi laughed lightly, and hoped she had not been eyeing him as a matchmaker.

He quickly exchanged the empty tubs with ones filled with his usual, bought a few kilogar of fresh silver-blue carp fillets, and made grandiose goodbyes as he towed the children along to stow the provisions in the scow.

He carefully placed the fillets under the seat, and secured the tubs. He straightened. “Do you want something to bring back to your friends? Some fruit perhaps?”

“No, we’re fine.” Renne shook her head.

“You’ve helped me in many things, during these past weeks. Buying something for you to take back is my thanks.”

“Shrimp.” Bree nodded firmly.

“Bree!” protested his older siblings in chorus.

Defi smirked at them. “Shrimp it is.”

They were passing the dock office when the door opened.

Defi stopped. “Natan?”

The dockworker boss stepped out of the building wearing leather armor and metal greaves. A sword was strapped at his waist, a halberd in hand.

Natan paused to contemplate him. “Can you ride?”

“Yes?”

“Will you?”

“What happened?”

“Several of the smaller caravans did not arrive last night or this morning. The town guards are busy with the thefts, and half of them are green. The mayor has made a call for volunteers from the retired soldiers. A scouting party.”

“If soldiers are going, why ask me?”

“You can ride.”

“You’re saying the soldiers can’t?”

“Most are foot-soldiers and navymen, in this town. Expensive, to be an officer, and too few added benefits for the hassle.” Natan gave a faint, pleased smile. “A pragmatic outlook.”

The two-wagon outfit of the savras sellers suddenly came into Defi’s mind. He suddenly had a headache. “I must bring the children to the orphanage first.”

Natan nodded. “We are gathering at the barracks.”

He strode away.

Markar was frowning. “I thought you said not to speak of your abilities?”

“Natan knows I use the sword.”

“You’re really going with soldiers?” Renne crossed her arms.

He moved toward the seller of blue shrimp.

“You heard Natan. It’s only a scouting party. Don’t worry about me, you two.”

He glanced back and saw that Bree looked distressed as well.

“Don’t worry,” he repeated, to the youngest. “I’ll be fine.”

He put Turq into the boy’s arms, quickly wrapped up the purchase of enough blue shrimp to feed a hungry platoon, and walked to the orphanage.

The kitchen door was opened by Gran Lari.

“Oh!” She quickly hugged the three. “This place has been too quiet these last weeks!”

Defi was grateful she vacated the doorway fast, as enough shrimp to feed a platoon was too heavy for a single pair of arms. He placed the stacked tubs down in relief.

“Gran Lari, I’m heading out.”

“You’re not staying?”

“There’s a need to scout out the road. Some caravans didn’t arrive last night?”

“Oh, isn’t the harvest frenzy coming too early?” She clicked her tongue. “Those hooligans!”

There was a name for it? Defi had thought Rocso was more or less exaggerating his stories as usual.

He smiled at the children. Markar and Renne didn’t look happy. Bree was hugging Turq tightly. “I’ll see you three later. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

He jogged to the barracks.

He’d just had the apothecary confirm that his savras slimes had produced something worth continuing. He didn’t want to just stop with Ziv and Zav.

The barracks were full of people. Normally, the fifty or so town guards didn’t fill it to capacity.

His eyes took in the number of older people; men and women who had served as soldiers in the imperial armies. There were many. Some groups were already leaving.

“Defi.”

Natan waved him over to a smaller group of fourteen people, varying age. There was even someone his age.

“Take the equipment from that room. We’ll be leaving immediately.”

They were in a hurry. What was in the caravans, that the town mobilized so many?

Defi quickly found something that fit him and buckled on the leathers, put on greaves and elbow guards, tried on the leather and metal helm.

It was an ill fit. He put it down.

“Roll a rag under it.” The woman beside him said. She took the helm, twisted a torn blanket into the inside, and gave it to him.

To his surprise and appreciation, the helm was comfortable now. It sat snugly on his head, the leather falling comfortably down the sides and back. “Thank you.”

She gave him a brief smile and continued buckling on her armor.

He snagged a sword and spear, then left the armory.

Natan and the others were already mounted at the entrance to the barracks.

Defi ran over, grabbed the saddle horns and swung a leg over the horse. He secured the spear on the saddle and looked around.

“We’re the second group of riders.” Natan said after looking around. “We’ll be taking the road to Genlet. We’ll be going fast. Keep your eyes sharp for tracks.”

“Sir!” replied about half the contingent.

Defi and the young woman, the only one in the group that was his age, glanced at each other.

Natan led the way.

He and the young woman cantered side by side out the town gate.

“Heran,” said the young woman. She looked as apprehensive as he felt.

“Defi.”

He did not know these mountains. His experience of this world was so far limited to a very small part of it. Somehow, in some way, this party of scouts felt like going out on his first hunt.

He only hoped this experience would not be as eventful.