Gemworld by Jeremy Bullard Page B

to it as the greeting wore on. Not that he had much choice in the matter, anyway. It wasn’t so much the contact that embarrassed him as the attention. But he was the new guy, and he just went through the interview from Hell. He supposed the welcome was sort of an apology for having to go through that. Apology accepted , he thought, snickering as he hugged a particular fluffy, grandmotherly woman.
    Finally, the crowd disbursed and went their separate ways, leaving the twins and Jaren to help Sal settle in.
    First order of business was to find Sal a place to live. The foursome left the village square for the streets, giving Sal a leisurely tour as they went. Various shops were pointed out—blacksmith, carpenter, fletcher—as well as strategically defensible spots within the village structure. Sal was pleased to note that the rebels, though little more than a collection of farmers, rowdies, and hicks, were fairly well organized. Sal attributed it to leadership. Reit seemed to bring out the best in these people, and that he commanded their fiercest loyalty was unquestioned. Even as they strolled casually through the streets, Sal noticed the gleams of encouragement in the eyes of the villagers as they picked up the pace of their work, if only to garner a smile from their el ’ Yatza .
    The troop stopped at a supply wagon, just a few rows in from the village green. The wagon, though not much larger than Sal’s accommodations from the night before, was heavily laden with awnings, tools, and scrap wood. With the help of his friends, Sal picked out what supplies he needed to build a respectable tent and the amenities to furnish it. These he put off in one corner of the wagon, to be retrieved after the tour.
    They continued on, covering little more than a third of the town by the time they reached Reit’s wagon at the end of a main thoroughfare not far from Sal’s supply wagon. Nearly twice as large as Sal’s “guest quarters”, Reit’s wagon was still sleek enough to be easily moved by one horse. The door and shutters were brightly painted, and decorated to give it a homey feel that obviously did not belong to a bachelor. Sal spied a fire burning in a pit on the far side of the wagon, with a large black kettle suspended over the flames. Reit directed his friends toward a cluster of seat pillows ringing the fire. He didn’t exactly invite his friends to dine with him; it was simply understood.
    Still many feet away from the fire pit, the smell of stewed meat and potatoes tickled Sal’s nose, bringing fond memories of the night before. But before Sal could ask who he had to thank for the repast, she presented herself.
    Delana, the mage from Eastwind Delta.
    “I believe you’ve already met my wife,” Reit said by way of introduction. Delana curtsied prettily, bringing an adoring smile to Reit’s face, and a thunderstruck look to Sal’s. “I apologize if I offend you, Sal, but you were an outsider, and custom would not allow even me the courtesy of properly introducing you earlier. At least she was able to prepare your quarters last night.”
    “Oh no... I understand,” Sal assured him, then turned to Delana, stumbling through an awkward bow. “I thank you for your hospitality, ma’am.”
    This brought a charming giggle from the amethyst, who shooed formality away and embraced Sal warmly. “We’ll get along just fine, Sal. So long as you promise never to call me ma’am again, that is,” she said with mock seriousness. “Besides, it was the least I could do, you boys having just missed Sowing and all.”
    “Sowing?”
    “One of our five festivals. All in good time,” Reit said, waving off Sal’s confusion and offering him a seat.
    They took their ease around the firepit, and Delana served up steaming bowls of the stew. As Sal received his bowl, he asked, “So what was all the fuss about when the ‘interview’ was done?”
    “Being greeted by the village?” Reit asked quizzically. “Are your customs not