50 Iboria

Up in the frozen steppes, Destrar Broeck and his nephew spent each night alone and cold in camp after camp. This was not one of the survival quests Broeck enjoyed so much; this was for the defense of Tierra.

In the early summer most of the snow and ice had melted, leaving marshes and standing pools that became breeding grounds for mosquitoes and biting black flies. The two men wore thick furs and covered their exposed skin with a soapy salve that discouraged the insects from biting, though not from flying maddeningly around their faces.

On their sixth day of wandering the open landscape, following beaten trails and prominent spoor, the two finally came upon the mammoth herders they'd been seeking. Iaros spotted the shaggy beasts while he and Broeck were trudging up to their ankles through the cold muddy waters of an extensive bog. “I knew Iboria was big, but I didn't know it'd be so hard to find these creatures. Look at how big they are!”

“Don't celebrate yet. We'll need at least a dozen herds like this.”

Iborian nomads used the entire landscape as their domain, wandering the steppes in clan units, hunting woolly deer, harvesting lichens and shelf mushrooms, herding mammoths across the open grasslands. Broeck and his nephew stopped to survey the distant herd; he counted seventeen beasts grazing on shoots in the marsh. A black curl of smoke marked the herders' camp.

With evident excitement, Iaros led the way, sloshing heedlessly along, intent on reaching the camp of clustered hide tents. Broeck picked his path with greater care, not surprised when his nephew slipped through a matted covering of grasses and plunged up to his waist into peaty muck. Iaros laughed at his own misfortune and clambered out, wiping the mud off of his breeches. He kicked his leg to shake his hide boots, but water continued to slosh inside them.

“We'll be at the camp soon enough,” Broeck said. “You can warm yourself by a fire then.”

The mammoth herders spotted the visitors when they were still a half-mile away. The vegetation was sparse, and the voracious beasts had already cleared much of the underbrush. In the camp, a group of women sat together next to piles of rushes they had harvested, peeling cattails and adding them to a stewpot, while others wove the dried leaves into mats.

The men were out keeping watch over the beasts, though if any steppe predators attacked, the mammoths could protect themselves far better than their herders could. Some of the beasts were tame enough that the Iborian boys could ride them; several mammoths stood munching on willow shoots, untroubled as herders used combs as big as rakes to brush the rust-colored woolly hair, collecting the strands for their own uses.

These clans generally followed the movements of the herd, instead of actually training or directing them, but Broeck intended to change that.

He and Iaros raised their hands in greeting. The herders were not suspicious people as a rule; out on the steppes, they had plenty of room and few rivalries, and they were far from the nightmares of war. Visitors were unusual enough that the herders left the grazing mammoths and came in to join their families.

Broeck slapped his fur vest. “I am your destrar, and this is Iaros, my nephew.” The herders greeted them in return, showing no awe or deference. Tierran politics had little to do with the life of the nomads. “We have come to purchase your mammoths.”

“How many?” asked the gruff clan leader, not surprised.

“All of them—and any more you can find.”

“If you buy all of our mammoths, then what will my clando?”

“You'll wander the steppes and find another herd,” Broeck said simply.

The man pursed his lips. The destrar reached into his pack, removed a leather pouch swollen with gold coins. “Queen Anjine has given me full access to the royal treasury in Tierra. With this, you can go to Calavik and buy a year's worth of food and supplies for every member of your clan. That should give you plenty of time to gather and adopt a new herd.”

The chieftain regarded the gold, adding sums in his mind. The money itself didn't impress him, for the nomads had few possessions and little need for commerce, but he did understand how gold could make their lives easier.

“It is a challenge to find unclaimed mammoths these days.” He leaned back on his woven grass mat, smoking a rolled cylinder of leaves. “Then again, our lives have been quiet lately.”

While the destrar negotiated with the clan leader, the women prepared a feast of stringy meat from a grandfather mammoth that had been culled and butchered. Old men squatted around smoky peat fires, using tools made of durable Corag metal to etch and carve bits of mammoth ivory.

Iaros played with the children and told loud jokes with some of the men. The mammoth herders had five girls of marriageable age, all of whom giggled and flirted with him, impressed by his long walrus mustache. Iaros would normally have preened, but now he turned away, blushing. He didn't know what to do with the attentions of the young women. At first he seemed flattered, but as the girls pressed closer, stroking his bare arms and his fine (but mud-spattered) fur vest, he seemed to panic. One of the stocky girls nuzzled him, poking him with a finger like a cook testing meat to see if it was done. “Stay here. I'll take you as my husband.”

A second girl crossed her arms over her breasts in indignation. “Oh, but he's mine. I saw him first.”

The first young woman didn't seem bothered. “We can share. It gets lonely enough out here, and there are too many cold nights.”

Iaros swallowed hard, and his voice cracked. “But I am the next destrar of Iboria!”

“I'm sure you can make babies like anyone else.”

“I… I'll have to consult with my uncle.” They laughed as he fled back to Broeck, trying to strut like a proud man but almost running in his haste. He brushed down his bristling mustache and attempted to regain his dignity, but the flush had reddened his entire head.

Broeck had seen his nephew fell large trees, hunt narwhals, and stalk the white bears, but his shy reaction around these girls was unexpected. Iaros had seemed a vain and self-confident man, but now he was tongue-tied. Broeck lowered his voice. “You do know you're going to have to get married and have children someday?”

Iaros remained embarrassed. “Let me face only one fear at a time.”

The clan leader finished counting the gold and stored it securely. Each season, herders brought domesticated mammoths into Calay, where the beasts were put to work hauling logs or pulling blocks of stone. Even so, the clan leader seemed surprised. “You ask for so many mammoths, Destrar. We have never heard of such a need. Is there a great construction project in Calavik?”

“These beasts won't be hauling logs or dragging sledges.” Broeck's eyes took on a far-off gleam as he imagined the reaction of an enemy that had never laid eyes upon such creatures. “No, these mammoths will be outfitted for war.”