The tale about the lava drake is a hard sell, but the songs go down a treat - Dramm insists Arakan repeat them over and over so he can get them off pat.
The pre-dawn watch of Calla and Qualli are eventually roused for their turn at gazing into the dark. The merchant makes desultory idle chatter, asking about the group's adventures and histories, though he doesn't seem overly interested.
Calla replies distractedly, trying to concentrate on keeping a good lookout. SHe happily confides that she comes of a merchant family, but is vague about which one, and particularly vague about her plans once she reaches Tyr.
"How often have you made this trip?"
"Once a year for the last fifteen years or so. The road's not so bad. You don't want to go off it, though - evil spirits and monsters in the desert. Don't want nothing to do with that."
The final watch, like the others, passes quietly, and before dawn the caravan has set off again. The sun rises over jagged mountains to the east, and the chill of the night is rapidly replaced by the heat of the day.
"There appears to be a large group of, something coming this way up the road."
Jareen peers ahead, straining his aging eyes. "Actually" he says to no one in particular. "It looks like cavalry from one of the city states. Would they be from Tyr? Seem a long way out if they are."
Arakan, looks at Jareen suprised "I can't quite make out any detail, but the two closest City-States would be Gulg and Nibenay, in that order. I imagine they are looking to investigate whatever that strange sight in the night was a few days ago. If it was some sign of great power, the Sorcerer Kings will all probably be racing to discover what it was."
Calla looks from Arakan to Qualli. "Do we try to avoid them or ignore them and go on our way? Is anyone carrying anything they'd rather not be found with?"
Irivis spots the cloud caused by approaching somethings, but is clueless beyond that.
"What is your usual policy?" she asks Qualli.
"Probably a patrol out of Balic. Look suspicious if we try to avoid 'em." Qualli squints. "Why, you got reasons to be avoiding 'em?"
"None that I know of," shrugs Irivis, "but you're paying us. If you want us to ambush, we need to get organised."
Jareen pulls the fabric covering his lower face up so that just his eyes show, and moves off to the edge of the group. Feeling under his tob for the reassuring sphere of his orb. Just in case.
"Ambush?" Qualli sputters. "A Balician phalanx? Do I look like Hammanu to you?"
Arakan's assumptions are off, and all things considered, he decides to secure his filter mask and pull some of the desert clothing down around his brow and ears. "It's probably best to stand aside and let them pass. Being in their way may only irritate them."
The column comes into clearer focus through the heat haze as it approaches. A small contingent of cavalry leads a platoon of marching men. Judging by their equipment - long pikes and heavy shields, cuirasses of bone pieces sewn on to leather and distinctive helmets - they are legionaries from Balic.
The column spots the caravan as they approach. They don't break ranks and continue to march at a steady pace, but soon the riders at the front, mounted on kanks, draw level. The nearest soldier leans out of the saddle.
"Greetings. Where are you headed?"
Jareen tries to keep his face hidden from the men, and look as bored and impatient as possible, whilst tring to listen to the conversation, but still not be noticed....
"Journey takes us to Tyr," Calla says. "How are the roads - any trouble we should know about?"
"No, the road was pretty quiet down from Altaruk. Do you have any news of the sky-rock a few nights ago? It certainly lit up the sky."
Arakan busys himself about the caravan, trying to keep it between him and the group from Altaruk. He remains uncharacteristically silent during the exchange.
Calla breathes a silent sigh of relief that Arakan isn't stirring up trouble, for once. She makes a mental note to ask Irivis whether Arakan has any particular history that might get them all in trouble.
"We saw the light and heard the thunder. I think the people at Grak's pool might know more, it seemed to come from that direction." Calla isn't sure why she is being evasive, but she feels unwilling to describe their capture and close brush with death.
Irivis looks demure behind her mask and nods at the soldier.
"We saw the lights and it seems to have stirred things up among the silt runners, so you might want to watch yourselves."
The soldier nods abstractly. "We'll look out for that. We've been asked to look out for a rogue templar from our city. He's wanted for treason but managed to escape." As he speaks his eyes drift over Jareen and he frowns.
Another man rides to the front of the column. He is dressed in bright robes and fans himself continuously and a slave runs along behind - clearly a templar of Balic. "Captain, what's going on here? Why are we wasting time with these peasants?"
Calla was about to elaborate, but at the appearance of the Templar she simply ducks her head and stares at the ground. Just a peasant. Nothing to see here. Just a peasant traveller.
Jareen raises his eyebrows involuntarily at the new comer, and turns away, busying himself with some piece of equipment.
"By the light of Andropinis" - he and the officer both briefly genuflect - "Jareen! What are you doing here?"
"Do you know this man, my lord?"
"Why, yes, he is Jareen! One of Our Lord's most favoured." The templar gives an insincere smile, grabs Jareen's hand and begins pumping it enthusiastically.
Oh dear. So much for passing unnoticed.
"Jareen! It seems we have been sheltering illustrious company."
"I, ah, yes. Indeed." Jareen's surprise quickly terns back to his usual stern, arrogant expression.
"Of course I am here, clear as the hand on the end of your arm. Now, didn't you have somewhere to be? We both have important things afoot!"
"What? Really?" The other templar looks a little put out.
The officer narrows his eyes. "My Lord," he says, addressing Jareen, "I was not aware you were travelling on this road. Please permit us to escort you to Altaruk."
"I fear that will not be possible." Irivis keeps her tone reverential, but firm.
"There are matters which require His Lordship's attention. It is vital that they are not betrayed by your august presence. It is not permitted to say more."
"You heard the slave, Holos - it's far to important a matter for you to interfere with."
The officer - Holos - frowns and looks like he is about to protest.
Calla looks up from lowered eyes, trying to understand the relative positions of these men. We need to get them moving on past us. Who is really in charge here, I wonder?
Calla can't really work out the undercurrents of the relationship between the templar and the soldier, although ordinary protocol would assume the templar was in charge. In the meantime, the officer takes the templar to one side.
percp
Gorad cannot add anything of value.
Arakan watches the whole bumbling with disgust. Why must he always come in to dig these folks out of the fire? He walks around the wagon with a purpose, first barking at Jareen. "Damn it old man! You had told me that you would be able to usher this templar on with little delay. Yet here I am stuck listening to you fumble for words while my mission gets delayed further." he turns to the new arrival.
"It's real simple, you were already informed that we have a task to perform, and we're focused on making haste. As you can see, Jareen here was moving incognito before your loud and obtuse ass decided to stop and blather on about OUR business. We have somewhere to be, and you need to go on your own way." before he can protest, Arakan jumps in "Don't even try to give me some lame excuse of how you don't recognize me, because a lowly templar at your level wouldn't. I do the work Sorcerer-King Andropinis wants done with the fewest witnesses. Before you delay us any further, I suggest you chose your next course of action carefully."
The templar's mouth open and then flaps wordlessly. The officer begins, "My lord..." But he is cut off with a curt wave.
"Come, this is clearly important business, far above your level, tribune! Form up the men! We must be off!" He taps his nose in a conspiratorial way at Arakan and Jareen, digs his heels into the kank's shell and rides off along the road, slave scurrying after. The officer gives the group a long look each, then gives the order. The column marches past, heading south.
Arakan watches them leave with an imperious air, before rolling his eyes after they are gone, and relaxing his stance. "So, let's carry on." He tries to look his most commanding, seeing just how well he sold the story to everyone else.
It doesn't require a remarkable level of perception to notice that Qualli is now looking at his fellow travellers, especially Arakan and Jareen, somewhat peculiarly. The merchant also pushes the pace to increase the distance between himself and the Balician troops as quickly as possible.
Gorad looks at Arakan with grudging respect.
"See, the eyebrow work does have its uses," mutters Irivis very quietly to Calla.