Hermes and Kino raced through a brown wasteland. There were mountains to their right and mountains to their left. All were bare of trees and seemed to shiver under the blue-gray sky. The road they traveled was the same unrelieved brown as the wasteland, and were it not for the occasional large cans that dotted the shoulder of the road, it would have been impossible to distinguish their path from wilderness.
Kino was chafing to leave this stretch of their journey behind them. So much so that she pushed Hermes along at a fast clip despite the unevenness of the road. He raised so much dust that Kino couldn't see the tracks behind them in the rear-view mirror. Which was just as well; there was nothing to see.
Hermes' carrier was stuffed with baggage. Kino had acquired a sleeping bag and a large square of strong netting to tie down her things. And she had a new silver cup that reflected the sun and the color of the sky.
It was chilly, so Kino wore her long brown coat. Her pilot's hat was snug beneath her chin, the earflaps down. Beneath her goggles, her cheeks and chin were so cold she was sure her expression must be frozen on her face. She could only hope it was a pleasant one.
They had just passed one of the painted cans when Kino saw something new along the roadside. She allowed the motorcycle's speed to drop. When the cloud of dirt that danced behind and around them had lessened considerably, she stopped the bike, dismounted, and wandered a bit off the road to inspect what looked like piles of dry wood almost buried in the dust.
But they were not piles of wood, Kino realized as she drew near. She stopped and took an involuntary step backward.
"What is it?" Hermes called.
"Bodies.'"
"Human bodies?" Hermes' voice was a thin metallic squeak.
"Yes:" She made herself stand there and study them. Most were in pieces, little piles of hands here or a row of torsos there. All of them had been dried by the arid weather – a heap of mummies lying in the wasteland. Big and small and even tiny, there were so many of them that in some places she couldn't make out the ground beneath them.
"Why... why are they here? Why would anyone leave so many mummies lying in a place like this? Isn't that... strange... even for human beings?" Hermes asked.
"Yes, it is strange. But we've seen many strange things in our travels. We've even seen grave yard s that seem to go on forever."
Hermes rattled as if he were trembling. "Oh, no, Kino. This isn't a graveyard. It's a larder. In a graveyard, they bury the bodies to make them inaccessible. These bodies are just lying around."
"A larder?" Kino echoed.
"Exactly. Dried meat. When they get hungry – whoever or whatever they are – they come here and grab a snack. It must belong to the next city down this road. Just like the junky in your bag, Kino."
"You mean... jerky?"
"Yeah, that." Hermes fell silent. He perked up again a minute later, and made an attempt at humor. "Better be careful, Kino, or they'll catch you and eat you! Of course, you're probably a little tough and sinewy, but if they boil you long enough, I'm sure you'll make a fine meal."
"Thanks."
He sighed. "So, this is the end of our travels. And I wanted to go so much farther!"
There was a long pau se before Kino said, "Hermes, you must be really desperate if you're making up stories like that. I almost half-believed you for a moment."
"Yeah, well, I do what I can with the materials at hand."
"Mm. Hang in there just a little longer; we're almost at the next city," Kino said. She returned to Hermes, mounted, and started him moving again.
They continued to see the piles of mummified bodies for some time before they stopped.
"I can't take it much longer... my front wheel... It's noon!" muttered Hermes, as the walls of the city finally came into view.
Soon after, they pulled up in front of the eastern gate, where a sign read: Welcome to Veldeval.
"Welcome to Veldeval," the guard at the gate repeated, smiling as he saluted. "It's been a long time since we had any visitors."
"I'm Kino. This is my partner, Hermes. We'd like to request entry."
"Business?" asked the guard.
"No. Just sightseeing and relaxation." Kino handed over her pass card. The guard took it and put it into the card reader mounted on his belt. The card re-emerged quickly, and he handed it back to Kino.
"No problem at all. How long would you like to stay?"
"Three days," said Kino. "We'll leave the day after tomorrow."
"Stay as long as you like," said the guard, entering something on the card reader's keypad. "Do you have any guns?"
"Yes," said Kino, taking off her coat, and draping it on top of Hermes. Underneath, she wore her black jacket and, over it, her gun belt. She removed the Cannon from the holster on her thigh, and placed it on the table at the guard's station. Then she reached behind her with her left hand, and produced the Woodsman.
The guard's eyes widened. "This is a surprise," he said, looking the guns over with evident admiration. "You've got some impressive weapons there, Kino. Are you... are you ranked, by any chance?"
"Fourth-rank black belt," replied Hermes, before Kino could speak.
Kino smiled. Ah, the pride of ownership Hermes takes in me.
The guard bowed slightly at the waist. “I stand in awe. Since you're ranked, feel free to take these in with you. I'm sure you won't need them, though. This country is perfectly safe. At any rate, we welcome you both with all our hearts, Kino... Hermes. Please enjoy your stay. Here's a map. I hope it will be of use to you."
Kino thanked the guard, holstered her guns, and took the map. The guard saluted again, and the gate rattled open. She pushed Hermes through.
The moment they emerged into the town, they were surrounded by smiling people. Kino flinched backward. Young and old, man and woman, everyone there took one look at Kino and Hermes and shouted a variety of greetings, each one delivered with a big smile. Some people even played instruments, and others danced as if to entertain them.
Hermes whispered, "I'm telling you, they're going to eat you, Kino. They look hungry!"
They didn't, though. Each person looked well-fed, well-dressed, and happy.
After some pleasant conversation, the welcoming villagers gave Kino directions to an inexpensive hotel with a shower and a place for Hermes. The hotel stood next to a large and obviously ancient building with a sign proclaiming it to be the Museum of Local History. The first thing Kino did after checking in was shake the dust from her coat and bags and give Hermes a much-needed bath.
"While you're at it," Hermes suggested, "you could change my spark plugs."
Kino ignored him, opting instead to take a shower, change her clothing, and eat. The hotel cook prepared and served a kind of fish she'd never seen before, and it was delicious. She told the cook as much, and the poor woman was seemingly overwhelmed by Kino's praise.
Sometime later, Kino pushed the baggage-free Hermes around town. The two of them still seemed to be the center of attention, and nearly everyone who greeted them recommended things for them to see and do. More than one person suggested a trip through the museum. The curator, she was told, knew more about the history of Veldeval than anyone alive, and the exhibits were supposedly amazing.
Since it was so near their hotel, Kino and Hermes visited the place that very afternoon. The building was of traditional folk construction, Kino noted, as she rolled Hermes up a ramp from the street. Its interlocking arches reminded her more of a shrine than anything else, and she wondered if perhaps it had once been a holy temple.
When Kino and Hermes had passed beneath the arches into the bright and airy interior, a woman came out to meet them. She was an elderly white-haired woman, but her figure was slim, and her back was straight. Her eyes were kind, and seemed to look through Kino – to her very core.
In a musical voice, with no hint of age, the woman said, Welcome to the history museum. I am the curator."
"Good afternoon, curator. I'm Kino. This is my partner, Hermes."'
The curator guided Kino and Hermes around the museum. They were the only visitors. The interior was outfitted with wheelchair ramps, and the height of the exhibits had been carefully thought-out for people of varying sizes. Kino was able to push Hermes around everywhere.
The exhibits were well-crafted and included detailed models ranging from the first settlers in this wasteland through the gradual evolution of the city. A number of artifacts from the various eras, including the first issue of the Veldeval newspaper, accompanied the exhibit. Kino relaxed and enjoyed herself as she read the easy-to-follow explanations on the plaques and the curator cooed many colorful details.
Eventually, they reached the modem history section. And there, the tone of the displays changed. Where the focus of the earlier displays had been on lives lived, cultural artifacts, and artistic, humanitarian, or scientific accomplishments, most of these newer exhibits featured weapons and protective gear, diagrams of battlefields and everything connected with war.
The sign at the entrance of the new section read: The History of Slaughter: War with Relsumia Begins.
"After this, everything is war," said the curator, expression unchanged. She led Kino and Hermes to view the more recent history of Veldeval.
For many years, the city-state of Veldeval had been sporadically at war with the neighboring state of Relsumia. The two cities had different religions, customs, and dialects. It was easy for each to view the other as an enemy – and once war broke out, the conflict escalated quickly.
Each city had vowed to destroy the other. With that simplistic goal, war broke out again and again. But their forces were too evenly matched; neither side was able to annihilate the other. Wars raged out in the wasteland, but the victors never had enough resources left to pursue the retreating forces back to their city and capture it. The opposing armies would eventually cut their losses and drag themselves back behind their respective walls in tatters.
After a brief suspension of hostilities, both sides would start to build up their military again, eventually lining up their armies in the wasteland. They would exhaust their resources once more, and stop fighting before either side succeeded in obtaining any sort of strategic advantage.