The Worlds of the Sheaf

Shonnla - Part 4

     "How long have your people lived in this part of the world?" Thomas asked the Mayor during a momentary lull in the interrogation. "Am I right in guessing that your ancestors arrived here no more than a few generations ago?"

     "Quite correct," replied the Mayor. "May I ask how you arrived at your conclusion?"

     "We spotted primitive peoples on our way here. Hiding in the undergrowth, creeping between the trees. They wore animal skins and painted their faces."

     "The feather people," said the Mayor dismissively. "They're harmless. They don't bother us."

     "And they are the original inhabitants of this land?"

     "Yes, our ancestors met them when they first came down from the north, two hundred years ago. They've been living the same way for thousands of years. They'll never amount to anything."

     "Remember that our own ancestors lived much the same way until the rise of the sons of Tragor," pointed out a man further down the table, however, waving a half eaten chicken drumstick in the air for emphasis. "Before that, we were wandering tribes, and had been for as long as our oral history recalls. We rose up to become civilised, however. Maybe the feather people will do the same, one day."

     "More likely they'll blend in with your civilisation," suggested Thomas. "They'll see the quality of life you enjoy and they'll want to share it. They'll come drifting into your cities one or two at a time..."

     "If the bandits and the Southerners don't wipe them out first," interrupted the chicken drumstick man. "They hunt them for sport, so it's said."

     "The Southerners?" asked Matthew, looking up with interest.

     "We came from the north, they came from the south," explained the Mayor. "They claim this land to be theirs, but we were here first. We fought a war with them a few years ago, drove them back, but we still see the occasional patrols sneaking around, testing us for weaknesses. You're lucky you didn't run afoul of them on your way here."

     "If we'd known this, we might not have dared approach your city," said Thomas. "You might have mistaken us for Southerners and killed us out of hand."

     The Mayor shook his head, smiling. "They would never approach so boldly, so fearlessly. You would have greater reason to fear one of our own army patrols. If they had caught you out in the wilderness, it would not have gone well for you."

     Thomas stared excitedly. If they were going to come clean with these people, explain their 'misunderstanding' with the soldiers, this was the perfect moment.

     Matthew saw the look on his face, though, and gave a discrete shake of his head while his eyes stared frantically. Have you forgotten all the men we killed? Thomas imagined him saying. Do you think something like that can be so easily forgiven? Thomas closed his mouth, therefore, and Matthew leapt in quickly before the wizard could change his mind.

     "May I ask a question?" he asked. "How much do you know about the people who built these buildings?"

     "We built these buildings," said the Mayor, looking confused.

     "No, I mean, the people who built them first. They start out tall and you make them shorter so you can live in the lower floors, but who built them tall?"

     Not only the Mayor but everyone around the table was staring at him blankly, as if he'd suggested that the moon was made of cheese. Thomas remembered his use of the Translation spell while trying to reason with the officer in the ruined skyscraper. The insight into the Fechlon world view it had given him. They had absolutely no conception that the skyscrapers were artificial structures.