Serialized Pulp Novel: The Rogue and the Merchants (Part 16)

Here is serial 16 of my pulp novel, The Rogue and the Merchants. As usual, here is a link to the full transcription, thus far, if you want to know more about the project, the source of the manuscript, or the story of the novel's genesis. Also, all of the illustrations I've been composing are there as well: Pulp Novel Project: The Rogue and the Merchants

***

It was a cold, gray morning. Into the Rogue's hand a particularly young villager--wearing a cloak woven with crudely flattened plates of what appeared to be metal--thrust a ceramic canteen of something very warm. It steamed in the cool of the morning. It was obviously liquor of some sort--perhaps a mulled wine--for it burned and made the Rogue's insides feel warm as it went down. He grunted his thanks to the young man as they began walking to the village center.

There it was swarming with beautiful women and children of every size and age. The Rogue glimpsed young Asha among them, sitting on a roof, her bare feet dangling over the side. She watched the Rogue as he approached with the group of warriors and grinned when he nodded to her.

The graybeard was squatting near a fire, warming his hands. He was flanked by two other warriors who looked  old and grizzled and sour, and their faces were scarred. As the Rogue came closer, the old man stood, took up his staff, and grinned.

"And you survived the night!" he exclaimed gustily.

The Rogue, however, was slightly distracted, and so the words the graybeard said did not register with him completely. When he came into the village the night before he did not see the peculiar place where these people had built their village-town.

High, high up on the section the canyon walls upon which their village was nestled were ruins built of the same black stone of the canyon. These ruins were built into the very wall of the canyon quarry that no doubt furnished the thick, black brick that composed it. Of these ruins's architectural style, the Rogue knew nothing, in spite of his great knowledge in the area and his old age. Worn smooth by years and years of wind and sand-blasts, the rock were smooth and sturdy, but the manner of construction--constituted of interlocking bricks of various sizes and arches with beautifully carved keystones--seemed far beyond the skill of these people. And there was an evil, "fang-like" quality to the ruins, which seemed to bulge and curve like so many fangs out of a mouth. They also suggested to the rogue the rib-cage of some dead and decayed god.

The graybeard saw the Rogue looking at the ruins, perceived his surprise and horror, and could not help but grin: "Yes, we live in the shadow of a great empire," he said. "The ruins are forbidden to us, and to you. We guard them. We welcome your friends, if you find them, but know this: we jealously guard those black-stone piles. We would be deadly offended if you attempted to violate them."