By midmorning, Broneslav's ship had manoeuvred into position near Tanaroa. There was no deepwater harbour there, so they moored away from land. Some curious villagers paddled their canoes out to see the newcomers and shouted greetings in strangely accented Common Tongue. They were not hostile. Instead they seemed pleased to have the opportunity to hear the news from further afield.
Broneslav was on the first boat off the ship to meet the locals. The land wobbled unfamiliarly under him as he stepped from the ship's boat onto the beach near the village. He wondered at the strange trees and unfamiliar vegetation, but tried not to look overawed by the novelty of this place.
His first impression was of an alien place. The long houses on stilts were like nothing he had ever seen before. The layout of the village with four areas of housing each surrounding a cemetery with a statue in the middle was new. The huge stone wall with the 70 feet high towers on it was new. Even the tar pits that formed a secondary line of defence behind the wall were things he had not encountered before in his short life. There was clearly something that the villagers needed to keep out, but the rest of the village was not in keeping with the 50 feet high wall. He knew that he needed to be on the other side of that wall. The letter and map he had received told him that. Well, he would try.
As his gaze swept across the village in its jungle clearing, he realised that the only familiar thing here was the pyramid in the centre of the fields. He had seen bigger and more impressive pyramids in Ylaruam, but none of those had a giant brass gong on top of them. Something was threatening this village and it came from the direction he intended to travel. Well, that meant he had a mission. But first he needed to speak to the headman of the village.
"Oh" he thought, "The village headwoman. Right. I guess they do things differently here."
Broneslav shook himself mentally and pulled himself together. The woman, who greeted him, reminded him of his aunt Grushenka, a woman with whom you did not mess if you did not wish to fall foul of the illumin-aunties. This informal group of woman were the power behind many thrones and could make a young person's life miserable if that young person were not careful. Broneslav himself had endured many probing questions about when he was going to make something of himself. Since his Shearing, they had largely left him alone, but he knew it would not be long before questions about suitable marriages and children were being asked.
He smiled in what he hoped was an endearing fashion and weathered the inevitable question.
"You're a bit young to be leading an expedition like this, aren't you, young man?"
The auntie was clearly taking no prisoners. Mind you, you did not get to be chief, even of a village, by being a wallflower.
"A young man has to try to make something of himself," he replied disarmingly, "I am accounted an adult in my country now, so I must act like one."
The auntie appraised him in a way that made him feel like a cut of meat at the butchers. Her eyes surveyed his broad shoulders and the well-used sword at his side. Even unarmoured, he carried himself more like a warrior than a merchant despite not being above average height and barely able to grow the moustache he aspired to. She also noted his youth. He could almost see the calculations going on behind her eyes.
Then she smiled.
"Very well. Let us see what you can do. Why are you here? And what do you have to trade? If you have anything worthwhile, we might be interested."
"My crew will bring samples ashore for you to view. I do not doubt that there will be much of interest, and I am sure that you will have much that I might be interested in. I hear that there are good sources of black pearls here."
The auntie's eyes narrowed. Perhaps it occurred to her that he was not entirely unprepared. Then she smiled broadly.
"Welcome to our village. Come! Let us get to know each other better. Trading always goes more smoothly once you know your partners."
Broneslav gave orders for a selection of goods to be offloaded and the crew jumped to.
The auntie led the way to a hut group where people were watching the newcomers. Broneslav and Captain Decentius followed her. Broneslav did not see it, but Theophilus Decentius stared appraisingly at Broneslav's back. Perhaps he was reassessing this green ship-owner's abilities in light of this interaction. Was the young man more than a spoilt rich kid with the money to buy his own ship after all? Time would tell.
