I read Jack Vance's "Liane the Wayfarer" for a Fantasy Fiction class I am taking and I enjoyed the characters and the world enough to make an attempt at continuing the story. This is the only story that I've read by Jack Vance, so if there are other important details about his world and creatures that I am missing, it's because my interpretation is only based off of Liane the Wayfarer. Critiques are much desired. I hope you enjoy the first part of this work in progress!
Also, I don't know what to make the title. The original idea was "Unchasable," but I realize that this isn't a real word and I can't find a suitable replacement. Any ideas on that are welcome! :3
It was spring then and the forest was twitching and chirping with life. Chaun had ventured from distant lands, to say the least. The country he had come to was alive enough, albeit drab and ruinous, where mortal men and wizards battled often and wars had decimated the land. Nature was always sumptuous to the eye, but even the trees and the earth looked weary from overuse. Self-serving purposes had taken their toll on this world and the ground ached when it was tread upon, wary of the onset of any traveler or foreigner. The tired earth often crumbled beneath Chaun’s feet as he passed by rivers that had gorged deep into mountains, eroding the broken stones of ruins and old roads. He knew this world was fragile. A somber sympathy filled his face like the rain fills cupped hosta leaves. His deep golden eyes glittered faintly in the afternoon sun.
Following a faint forest track, Chaun stepped into a glade, decorated with the beautiful organized aimlessness of nature with lush hawthorns, bursting daisies and lilies, all girded and supported by their shining leaves and curled thorns. Twinkles of color buzzed and fluttered through the air – they were the small, noble, insect steeds of Twk-men, the news-bearers spread far and wide in the land. Chaun, being a studied man, had sought the Twk-man carefully as an important step in his purposes in this world.
As the blinking speck darted back and forth on their shimmering butterflies, round cicadas and prismatic dragonflies, Chaun glanced around. As the Twk-men noticed his presence, they began to swarm excitedly, curiously fretting over the pouches attached to Chaun’s belt and backpack. They tugged anxiously on the tie on a particularly odorous pouch and Chaun shooed them away gently with a smile.
A patient Twk-man glided gracefully on his dragonfly steed and perched on a lock of ruddy-blonde hair settled on Chaun’s forehead. Chaun looked up at him through the corners of his golden eyes and saw the blue skin and white beard of the patient Twk-man, his ultramarine body wrinkled by the shortened number of days that one of his race could live.
“And who are you?” said the Twk-man with wide, searching eyes.
“I could ask you the same,” said Chaun calmly, his voice rising slighty as he smiled.
“I would have the curious smell in that purse of yours,” said the Twk-man with a diplomatic tone.
“One fifth of a gram,” replied Chaun, calculatedly.
The Twk-man gave a slight hiss as he subdued his disgust at this proposal. “For one fifth, I will have you call me Riz.”
“I seek a witch named Lith, who should have come to this land many years ago.” Distance resonated for a moment as their conversation lulled. Riz leaned forward with prodding expectation, glaring with his beady eyes into Chaun’s comparatively gargantuan golden ones.
“Three grams,” said Chaun with a smirk. At this, the Twk-man shuddered as his eyes grew wide. He lost grip on his dragonfly, nearly rolling off in surprise. Chaun laughed lightly with his mouth closed as the well-trained steed wiggled his abdomen and swung Riz back on balance.
“Ah, you seek the beautiful Lith of Thamber Meadow, frog eater and fear of yellow-eyed men,” Riz reported. “Thamber Meadow lies far to the south. The path of greatest ease would be Phizor Pass through the Mountains Crenel. If you stay true to the main road, it will take you to the Ten Plains. There is a region where the plains meet the Derna River as it courses to the East. In these wetlands is the Meadow where abides the witch. As you rejoin with the main roadway and turn south, follow the signs, which you surely should find readable.”
“Kind sir, your information is most useful. Please accept payment in full.” Chaun’s eyes focused on Riz as he absorbed the information intently. His face formed into a kindly smile as he said this with a warm, yet business-like tone according to the manner of the Twk-man. Chaun pulled out a strange set of scales with plates suspended by a cord of light and reached for his pouch. He carefully weighed out three grams of the potent powder as Riz’s eyes darted back and forth between the gleaming scales and the bag of the unknown substance.
“Fear not, Riz the calculating, for I mean no harm.” Chaun thoroughly explained how the scales and spice were of common use in his homeland, where the strings of the scale were designed to tighten and loosen according to the trading standards of other countries. The mysterious powder turned out to a spice used to cook fiery, flavorful foods that would instigate mirth and laughter like the merry-making of choice wine, save the intoxication, as Chaun patiently explained.
A worried look came upon Riz’s face at this new information, for he had nothing to trade for Chaun’s explanation. “Surely you must want to know something of the land, friend. The informative news you have given me deserves a fair price.”
“Don’t be dismayed, my friend. The news is free,” assured Chaun.
“My lord, I am undeserving to be called friend by one so kind. Please, what of your name?”
This was the first time Chaun’s face looked even slightly unfriendly, for his name was to be kept secret in those lands. “Forgive my sudden rudeness,” he replied, “but although I am wont to be generous in all things, my name is for me to keep.”
Riz nodded formally as a young, yellow Twk-man riding a portly cicada brought Riz several cloth vessels for his traded spice. Riz appeared to be a notable individual among his people as several of them were gathering around him on their buzzing steeds, whispering amongst themselves. Chaun held the small set of scales aloft as the golden-lemon Twk-man quickly gathered the foreign powder into the cloth bags.
Riz had scarcely begun to attend to his newly acquired prize when he looked up briefly to see Chaun taking his leave of the flowered glade.
“Farewell, bearer of foreign zest! Do not be deceived by the dubious Lith, for she has been the death of many men with golden eyes!” Riz yelled in his tiny voice from a distance.
Chaun, having his back turned to the gathering of Twk-men and Twk-women, stole a look at Riz with a smile, unwavering from his path. In retrospect, Riz was very surprised that Chaun could hear his small voice from so far away.