Page 25 of The Warrior's Oath
“Why is that?”
“Dohrags have been operating in this area lately,” the Pahvlin said, spitting on the ground with disgust. “Not as bad as the Raxxians, but still a generally abhorrent race.”
“And that is why you travel in a convoy.”
“Safety in numbers, friend. I know you Nimenni have dealt with them in the past, so you know full well what they are capable of.”
“Indeed, I do.”
“I don’t,” Nyota said, her sense of security bolstered by the alien’s friendly demeanor.
“I don’t recognize your kind. You look almost Vallish, but you have too few legs.”
“She is a human. Captured by the Raxxians from a planet called Earth.”
“Human? Never heard of ‘em.”
Korvin chuckled warmly, pouring on charm she didn’t know he possessed. “Nor had I until recently. But she is in my care, and we require passage to the nearest trading outpost or town.”
“You’re in luck, we are heading to Molok. It’s a large city with a robust trading center. Quite advanced for this world.”
“Then tell me, friend. What would passage cost? We are sadly short of currency, but we do have items for trade.”
The Pahvlin sized them up and gestured to the lead craft. “You are Nimenni. I trust you will pay with a reasonable trade. And we’re reasonably close to Molok. With Dohrags around I couldn’t in good conscience leave you out here. Not with a female. ”
Nyota felt the hair on her neck stiffen as her ire rose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The Pahvlin’s hands went up defensively. “No offense intended, I assure you. It’s just the Dohrags, they have a propensity for taking females.”
Korvin turned and rested his hand on her shoulder with a sympathetic look in his eyes. “The Dohrag ships are crewed only by males, and their deployments are long. As a result, they are known to sometimes treat female captivespoorly.”
Nyota caught the gist, a small knot forming in her stomach. “Oh, I see.”
“They will not bother a convoy this size,” Korvin added. “And they know better than to attempt any such thing in a trading city, especially not a large one that likely has robust defenses.”
“Speaking of which,” the Pahvlin trader said, “hop on. We should be moving. Never fear, we’ll have you in Molok in no time.”
Soft but strong hands helped hoist Nyota to the deck while Korvin simply vaulted aboard in a single leap.
“Okay,” the Pahvlin said with a friendly grin. “Next stop, Molok.”
CHAPTERELEVEN
Nyota had no idea what an alien city should look like. She had high hopes—it would be alien, after all—but beyond that she hadn’t a clue. Even as night fell upon them, she couldn’t help but wonder if their destination would live up to her expectation.
When they pulled into Molok, the small convoy flew a bit slower, winding through its roadways on the way to the trading center of the city. It was alien, all right, and she felt more than adequately satisfied on that count.
All around, the architecture was fluid in shape. No harsh, right-angle edges and corners. These buildings were softer in design, and though they were clearly made of some sort of high-strength material, they looked almost supple, as if carved by a master sculptor rather than manufactured.
The city was clean and rather compact, opting for mostly low-rise structures that blended well with the looming forests around them. There were, however, more than a few taller buildings that stood proudly towering over the others. Gleaming spires of technology jutting up above the vast wilderness. A guidepost for traders coming from far and wide to hawk their wares.
Eyes wide, Nyota gawked at all the different alien races milling about. Some were humanoid, walking on two legs, but others ambulated with undulating tentacles, while others simply had far more limbs than she’d ever seen on a person.
While some were grotesque, a few of the aliens were utterly stunning in their appearance, standing out to her human eyes for both the exotic look of their bone structure as well as the beautiful variety of coloring they possessed of both flesh, hair, and eyes. Whether the people of Molok considered them an ideal of beauty she had no idea, but to her they were almost too pretty to look at.
“Here we are,” the Pahvlin said as the convoy pulled to a stop at the edge of the busy trading district. “I wish you the best of luck.”
Korvin reached in his pocket and drew out a small orange crystal set in what looked like a gyroscopic bezel of some sort. It was no bigger than a cherry, but the Pahvlin’s reaction made its worth clear.
