1 night in Bartholomea’s inn Sem Partoldi had said to her fellow villagers, “We will sponsor an independent rider. Our village.” 
         Everyone chorused, “Ooooh,” with their generous mouths formed into full circles in their large round freckled faces. 
         Sem Partoldi chuckled and her massive jowls and huge belly shook. “This cycle Community is having its own rivalry. All 5 leading families are sponsoring carcs. Bets sprout like fungi and wealth flows like the spring river. We will sponsor a rider for this village.” Sem Partoldi smoothed the luscious silk which covered her round belly. 
         “But how, Sem Partoldi? We don’t have wealth like the 5 families," 1 said. 
        "They have power, messengers, agents of contacts and agents of travel who move all over, everywhere, and see and know who rides well, who speaks true," spoke a 2d. 
        "All of our village doesn’t have the wealth of 1 child of the families,” another said. 
         A 4th, a south district farmer, spoke. “We can’t offer the rider the diversities and wonders of Community. Riders like that. Excitement. How will we do it?” She tugged at her tunic in puzzlement. 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
         “Not all riders are alike," Sem Partoldi instructed. "Many come and go through Community. If they are worth anything they are drawn to the Complex. They cannot help themselves. Like poor lost herders seeking home they find themselves by carcs.” Sem Partoldi chuckled again. “I will go there for a rider. I’ll hire her and she will find us our carc. I’ll buy it and we will be established.” 
         “How will it be our carc?” 1 of the 6 milkmaids at the next table asked. 
         The others wriggled their eyebrows and their ears and said, “How will the rider be ours?” 
         Everyone in Bartholomea’s inn laughed. They rapped the bar and stomped on the floor with their heavy nailed boots and worn clogs laughing. 
        Sem Partoldi lifted a fat-fingered hand like a benediction and her bright green eyes sparkled. “You will buy me drinks and delicacies here. Everyone who buys me something becomes part owner. “ 
        The villagers liked that and so did Bartholomea who wiped her hands foamy with beer on her pink-striped yellow apron. Immediately she provided Sem Partoldi with her 1st dinner. The milkmaids chose her 1st dessert and wriggled their ears and kissed her globular cheeks as they bent over Sem Partoldi feeding her her dessert. Sem Partoldi was pleased for a low rumble issued from somewhere deep within her immensity. 
        It happened just as she had said.