Among Strangers, Part 2
> Northern Grusaak, deep in the mangroves
The northern tribes had brought in strangers before, usually traders who had wandered too far south or scouts from nearby settlements checking us out, but this was neither.
I heard about them before I reached the fire. A hunting party had gone out after a herd of pigs recently seen in the area and returned instead with two outsiders. One was dressed for travel rather than trouble, with tools and instruments still hanging from his belt. The other sat quietly observing, bound to a pole with a stillness in her expression that wasn't born of fear. Her eyes glowed as brightly as the fire she was looking at, and she sat at the center of camp while half the tribe stood around deciding what to do with them.
I made the hunting party stand down before anyone decided for me. Whatever these two were, they hadn't come in swinging, and I'd spent four years making sure that wasn't reason enough to kill someone anymore.
Up close, the man looked less like a threat and more like someone who had catalogued every plant in the distance. Despite having his hands bound behind his back, his eyes were still moving, still cataloguing, even now. The woman beside him was another matter entirely. Something about her stillness didn't read as fear.
It read as waiting.
Observing.
"I don't suppose either of you speaks the Common tongue," I said, mostly to see which one answered first.
"You speak Common?" The man's head came up quickly, surprise breaking through his composure.
"Badly. But yes." I crouched near the fire, close enough to be heard but far enough to keep my spear-bearers comfortable. "You're a long way from wherever you started. Most people who end up this deep in Grusaak aren't lost by accident."
"We were looking for you, actually. Or, well, Grusaak. I hadn't quite accounted for finding it this abruptly." He shifted against the ropes, wincing. "Percival van der Berg of Koperdam, but I don't imagine that means anything to you."
It did. Well, not by name. But the accent, the practical clothing, and the careful way he spoke, more like a man used to writing everything down for people who weren't there to ask questions, told me enough.
A cartographer. An adventurer. Maybe an inventor.
But not a raider.
Raiders didn't usually introduce themselves.
"Kaelurun Voltkr," I said. "Hand of Driisir, for what that's worth to you. You'll forgive my people for the welcome. We've had reason in the past to be careful about strangers coming out of the trees at night."
Percival's tone shifted. Something changed in his face, not fear, but something closer to recognition.
"That's fair," he said quietly. "More than fair, actually."
I glanced at the woman. She still hadn't spoken, but her eyes were burning through me, tracking every movement I made.
"And her?"
"Semet."
A pause, and something careful entered his voice, like a man choosing which truth to lead with.
"Queen of Kedet, if titles matter to your people. She doesn't say much to strangers." A faint, tired smile crossed his face. "She'll vouch that we're not here to burn anything down, if that helps. So will I."
I studied them both for a while longer, long enough that the fire cracked twice and nobody around it moved.
Then I nodded to the warriors holding the ropes.
"Cut them loose."
Once the ropes were gone, Percival rubbed his wrists and looked at me with the curiosity of a man already thinking about how he'd write this down later.
"You're younger than I expected a head of state to be."
"Everyone says that."
I sat back down across the fire from him, this time without a spear between us.
"You said you were looking for Grusaak. Why?"
"Cartography, mostly. Diplomacy, if you'll have it. Koperdam doesn't send people this far without wanting to know who else is out here."
He glanced at the scars still visible around the camp, the guarded, half-rebuilt look every Grusaaki settlement still carried, nine years on, and something in his expression softened.
"I'd rather draw an honest map of a nation than a hostile one."
I found, somewhat to my own surprise, that I believed him. And after a day like the one I had had, a stranger who wanted nothing from me but conversation was closer to a relief than a burden.
Even the Queen, silent as she was, had stopped watching me like a threat and started watching me the way Percival did, like something worth understanding rather than something to fear.
"Then you're in luck," I said. "I've got nowhere urgent to be until morning."
That was more or less how it started.
We talked about the past, about Koperdam, about Grusaak and its tribes, and about maps of places nearby which we both wished to visit someday. He asked more questions than anyone had in months without a single one being about the Covenant's wheat reserves, and I found I didn't mind answering.
Even Semet spoke once, making a single observation about the shape of the mangroves at dusk that told me more about her than anything Percival had said all night.
By the time the sky started turning grey, Semet still wasn't saying much, but she seemed much calmer. Percival, meanwhile, was arguing with me, entirely good-naturedly, about whether Grusaak's decentralization was a strength or a slow-motion catastrophe.
I let them go the next morning with an escort to the border, food for the journey, and a gift from me personally. I also made them a standing offer, half-jokingly, to come back when Percival wasn't half-starved and freshly untied.
He took it more seriously than I expected.