The morning of Gozhran 3 comes on with light rain falling, having extended throughout the night, and showing no signs of stopping any time soon. The weather is otherwise pleasant enough, with the air a little crisp this morning but hardly cold - if the weather pattern holds the temperature will rise throughout the day, continuing this streak of warmth running through the valley.
Normally the excise procession to the capital is very official, in purpose and in execution, but today is different. There are no soldiers leaving with the caravan, and few official representatives of the government, other than Texikuk, who wanders the handcarts with efficient purpose, checking her lists against the contents of the carts one last time, and barking instructions to her staff about the expected influx of residents from Under-the-Mound in the coming days.
Instead of the soldiers, a rag-tag band of militia will accompany the caravan - seven men and women with prior military service and perhaps even experience in a fight, though with the peaceful times of late, perhaps not. Among them are Utzi, the bear of the man that Imix first fought with when he came to town, and Korya, the Tooyah woman given a reprieve at Oios’ request.
Then there are the laborers, ten in all including the dim Kiko, each ready to carry an oversized cart of goods. However, there would usually be more sent - the Mayor has made good on his word and kept back most of the tribute’s foodstuffs as well as some supplies. The portion of the tribute withheld, while not as valuable as what remains, is very bulky, and would have required at least ten more laborers to take on the journey.
There are also three families making the trip for pilgrimage to the holy sites of Cornucopia, and all three families are in some way in need of it, by the reckoning of those that know them. There’s the Ostens, a family of farmers that are pious in word if not in deed, being known as some of the most covetous folk in town. Marga Sache and her husband Otto will also make the journey, both of them barren of children and barren of disposition, known to find fault of nearly everything and everyone within Shadeholme. And lastly, Maeve and Kalkuk Meadsthon, proprietors of the Copper Coywolf, and their five children will make the journey. Maeve and Kalkuk are renowned gossips, and both are allready busy speculating to the motivations of the Mayor holding back the tribute, skirting just around the edges of calling the man corrupt and opportunistic. Mauni, Maeve’s youngest daughter, spends most of her time following Imix around, shy and quiet but always underfoot, utterly entranced by the Suriname. The pilgrims make up another fourteen people.
Issy stands off to the side, looking to Rigel, ignoring Paola’s requests to let her carry the girl - it seems that though Nando won't be accompanying the excise, he's been talking with Paola. "Or at least hop onto a cart and let Kiko earn his keep," the Chasqui says, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration. All-Feather sits dutifully on Issy's cloaked shoulder, cawing occasionally into the rain.
And so, while Ayida-Wedu is just beginning her daily climb, the excise group sets off, only to be delayed by the arrival of one last group. Bertram Hamfatten, arriving in a huff with four of his junior magistrates, strides through the procession, Bertram’s face flushing red as he passes Rigel. Stopping, he towers over the girl and gives her a leer - part anticipation, part scowl. ”Seems the wife needs some alone time. Thought I’d give it to her, and make some other woman miserable for the next many days.”
Oios considers Drazan's question. When the enemy attacks and comes to eat our flesh and throw our bodies as sacrifices to their foul evil spirits then it truly is the time for Marinette as we must meet their force without mercy to throw them back. But the battlefield is not the only place we need the gods aid Drazan. We need to heal our wounded and protect our young and elderly and that is of Loco. It is through Makaya that we will be able to keep in touch with our fellows and know that we are not alone in our struggle. Oggun's blessings will help us feed ourselves as our farms are burned by the likes of Rheumy. Oios pauses and looks around at the still peaceful landscape of Shadeholme. There are other examples, but more crucial, I feel is that it reminds us that though Marinette is much like Kalfu the biggest difference between them is the reason Marinette fights when she goes to war. Kalfu seeks Destruction for it's own sake. Marinette fights for the people and the land she loves. We ask for the aid of all the gods in these times because that is what Marinette seeks to defend. She fights so Damballah's wisdom can reign, so Ayida-Wedu's loving embrace can even remain possible, so Ayizan's prosperity can bring wealth, so Makaya may continue to learn and teach, so we can laugh at Mami Wati's antics. So that we may indulge in comfort and security in the pleasures that Anaisa Pye offers.
Oios thumps his spear on the ground If we were to just go to war forever then perhaps Marinette would be all we needed but we go to war to defend the peaceful world we have built and that comes from all the gods. Unlike what the Mountain Men believe we are not spears Drazan. But people. And people have need of many things even in times of war, maybe especially in war. Things that neither Marinette or Kalfu can provide
Oios visits Telowo when the head priest has a moment to spare.
We are getting old, old friend. And even in these times we need our sleep. Will you pray with me like we did in seminary?
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Gozhran 2
Istiel looks over each of the other monks, sweaty and warmed up from the morning's sparring as they are, and wonders if any of them could have done what she accomplished last night. How did she compare to her peers? There was no way for her to tell, but they certainly would have a benchmark soon.
Istiel bows her head to her master she she approaches the group. "Yes, master. The group of Tooyah near Shadeholme were chased from their homes in the north by Mountain Men called the Razor Teeth. They meant to enslave, sacrifice, and devour the Tooyah for some evil rituals. We found the closest group of captured Tooyah and killed the six savages guarding them in the night. The cannibals were fierce and strong." By the time she has finished speaking this bit she is in front of the monks, sack still on her shoulder. A little excitement enters her voice. "[/b]I slew one on my own, and assisted in downing three others. I remained untouched."[/b]
The warrior-monk continues, though the good part was over. "A strange, black, scaled bird-lizard creature took flight from their bonfire when the battle was joined. There were many other fires in the distance. Over twenty. Instead of risking the bird warning the other encampments, and us becoming overwhlemed, we left for Shadeholme to bring word of this invasion."
The sack on her shoulder is dropped to the ground, and it sloshes strangely. "Master. The Mountain Men used potions in battle. Lethal wounds healed before my very eyes." She takes out of one of the stoppered gourds, and presents it to him. "I tasted it. A mixture of blood and distilled herbs. The blood may be human. I do not wish to use them in battle for this reason. I do not know if it contains their evil magic either. If it is not magical perhaps we can reproduce it using livestock blood? We could benefit greatly from this concoction."
If he will take them, she leaves four of the gourds in the possession of her master. "I wish to study the gourd brew with you, Master, but I have been volunteered to protect the Excise as it journeys to Cornacopia. We will be requesting soldiers from the King to protect Shadeholme from the Mountain Men. I will be leaving tomorrow morning." Her hazel eyes look over the other monks. "If you have any messages for the Monastery I will carry them."
Her spiel finished, Istiel sighs and accepts her ill-fated wager yesterday. "What are my chores? I must complete them quickly so I can prepare for tomorrow." If they went fishing I will purposely leave some scales on.
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After chores are completed, Istiel makes her way to the bathing chamber. It will be the last chance to properly clean herself before they arrive in Cornacopia, and she visits the monastery.
The bathing chamber is a small room connected to the monk's dormitory, made of stone with a drain connected to the building exterior. There is a water pump, a small cermaic stove for heating water (which also doubles as a source of heat in the winter) that must be stoked from the exterior, and various grooming implements. There are no windows, and the door is made to seal perfectly with a lock on the inside. Inside is complete blackness. It is the only area the monks are allowed to fully disrobe or remove their masks without dire purpose.
After she ensures the water heater is stoked and a pot sufficiently warmed, and a clean set of robes are hung up. Istiel enters and locks the door behind her. The blackness envelopes her senses- only the strange motes that sometimes pass through one's vision remain. She uncouples her mask to hand on a hook, discards her robes, and stands for a moment in the chilly, black air. Lifting her hands up in the blackness, she looks at the places where her limbs would be, and sees their faint outline. The masters say our eyes, hands, and feet connect us to this world. That is why we can see our spirit in our hands and feet, even in the darkness.
With methodical practice she pours water, bathes, and runs a sharpened piece of flint over her scalp. Rough fingers run over the top of her head, and feel the prickles of hair. The flint knife is never good enough to get the skin smooth, but it must be kept trimmed or else wearing the bunraku becomes more uncomfortable than it already is. A thought flashes into her mind- What color is it now? And voice in her head responds quickly. I do not know. It does not matter.
She dumps the warm bucket of water over her head, and shakes it free of her body. She wipes the water off of her invisible form using linens, and begins to methodically clothe herself in clean robes. Next, she would try to get a little sleep before a full day of walking begins.
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Gozhran 3
Istiel is at the caravan before Ayida-Wedu is reborn, quietly doing stretches and waiting for them to actually get moving.
Drazan arrives with the bulk of the others, still weary from having stayed up through the night the other day and sleeping the majority of the next. He is as usual, avoided and standing alone, though it doesn't seem to bother him as he lays about on the ground and watches the others bustle about.
Rigel is awake at first light, although not by her own choice: Issy is excited at the prospect of a journey and won't wait any longer. Rigel blinks blearily - what time is it? Nah, she's good for another hour; rolling over, she hugs her pillow and settles- "Bwah!" Issy won't be denied and tickles her mercilessly until she's thoroughly awake. "All right, you horrible horror. Let's get some breakfast and we can go then." Grumbling, she gets up, washes and puts on some travelling clothes. She grimaces; they're tough and serviceable, but not a great look. Oh well.
...
She is pleased to see that it is Paola who will be accompanying them, rather than Nando; she likes the boy, but Issy doesn't and it means the journey will be free of... complications. She rolls her eyes as Issy stubbornly ignores the Chasqui's requests to carry her. "Oh, go on Issy, she's dying to carry you. Just for a little bit. It won't kill you and it'll make her happy. Who knows? You might make another friend." She smiles at Paola. It's been a while since they really had any time together and she's looking forward to catching up with her during their journey.
Staring thoughtfully at the various people that Gilders has 'suggested' should accompany them, she makes a face. Better to have them here than causing trouble for him, but all the same... It's going to be a long journey if she has to listen to their crap. Still, it could be worse.
The arrival of Hamfatten makes it worse. So much for 'free of complications.'
Bertram Hamfatten, arriving in a huff with four of his junior magistrates, strides through the procession, Bertram’s face flushing red as he passes Rigel. Stopping, he towers over the girl and gives her a leer - part anticipation, part scowl. ”Seems the wife needs some alone time. Thought I’d give it to her, and make some other woman miserable for the next many days.”
Rigel doesn't hesitate, although it would be wiser - by far - to keep silence. She looks over his four deputies, trying to remember what she knows: are they all as corrupt as he is? Do any have ambition to replace him? Can she work with any of them if she decides to bring him down? All of these thoughts flash through her mind in an instant, even as she leans forward and spits at the ground between Hamfatten's feet.
"See that, magistrate? In Shadeholme, that gets me a punishment - but have a look: town's over there. Out here, you got your title, but your writ doesn't run. You've no more authority than anyone here, and less than some." She gestures toward Imix. "That Suriname could gut you, leave your body for the crows and he wouldn't even stand trial." She leans in toward the man. "You cause trouble for anyone - anyone - on this journey and I will make you suffer. Like right now, for instance, I'm wondering out loud why the senior magistrate is waddling away from town right when there's a threat of invasion: shouldn't he be supporting the mayor and facing the danger?" She gives him no time to answer. "So am I finding a few other people to share that question with, or are we coming to some sort of truce?"
In any fair and just world, the glare she gives him would melt all of that fat blubber off him and into a puddle around his feet.
Imix was not accustomed to waiting on others. Watching Rigel leave after their conversation left him with a strange, impatient feeling in his stomach and a tendency to clench his fists.
There is nothing to do about it. Logically, the most important thing is to recover my strength. Sleep. The thought came easily, action was harder. After perhaps ten minutes of lying awake, he instructed Chukix to wake him if Rigel returned, or there was a message.
Closing his eyes he called upon meditation techniques taught to control the changing of form. He felt the lassitude of the Crocodile, and felt himself slip asleep in the cold.
When he awoke it was late afternoon. "Chukix! Why did you let me sleep! What was the answer?"
Nothing.
Nothing was the answer.
He was ignored, like some sort of... entertainer.
Grinding his teeth, he took the task upon himself.
"Chukix. Go talk to the Maester. Tell him that I am looking for ten - no, five - children. Clever, not unfit, not combatants though. Apprentice age." he thought for a second, remembering the young child from yesterday "Yes - they are to be my apprentices."
He looked at the haggard secretary "Then ensure you are also rested. I am off to help Texikuk meet her deadline - and requsition supplies."
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You find Telowo in the High Hall, at the priest's private shrine. The shrine is, like many things in Shadeholme, more utilitarian than beautiful, though it has some pleasing aesthetic qualities.
The room is sparse, with stained mulberry red oak wood floors, a wood bench and wood-burning stove, and some braziers along the walls. At the center of the room sits a circular stone pool, twelve feet in diameter, raised off the ground on a limestone footing. The pool is shallow, the water clear. In the center of the pool there is a simple wavy line, azure tile from the capital inlaid into the pool's stone bottom.
Telowo smiles, his eyes crinkling a little at the edges. Those eyes are circled with dark ash, and more runs down the priest's forhead in a wavy line mirroring the symbol on the floor of the pool.
"Of course, my friend! Step into the pool. I've been following the path." And so you do, moving behind Telowo up one side of the wavy line in the pool's floor and then down the next side, the constant pace and repetitive movements along the line meant to bring about meditation and then, illumination.
The water is cold at first, Telowo having neglected to light the small wood stove in the corner of the room, but in a minute or so you're acclimated and walking the path, slipping into the easy mantra from your seminary days, a simple verse repeated as one steps, meant to free the mind for illumination.
Father, may I follow the path
this day as others
the current taking me
where I am needed
no more no less.
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There is warmth in Domhnall's voice, perhaps even a tinge of pride, you think, as your Master rocks a bit on the balls of his feet, hands clasped behind his back. "One kill and three assists, with no harm brought to yourself? Well done, Istiel! Monks, pay attention! Hit hard and quickly, and work with others that compliment your strength, and you too can be volunteered to travel to the capital. Istiel, when you arrive, visit my old friend Blythe at the monastery - she is Master there. Explain our situation and ask for assistance. Perhaps she has some monks she can spare?"
Taking the sack from you, Domhnall unstoppers one and swirls it within the gourd, holding it up to his ear, and then smells it before pouring a little on his finger and the finger disappearing under his mask, tasting it.
"Yes, there is blood distilled in some manner. I will study these potions these next days, and I hopefully will have some answers for you on your return. Now, for today, I believe the midden heap has developed an unfortunate odor with the recent warm weather. Please take a rake and turn the garbage into the earth, until the smell is no worse than a dog's fart carried in the wind."
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The morning of the tribute's departure, you lay about on the ground, attracting the attention of Utzi; the largest man in town, former soldier, current forager and logger, and thought to be, on average, drunker than most are sober. Utzi has never really had a conversation with you, even when he's seen you out in the wilderness - the few times your paths have crossed, he's simply turned and made his way into the woods, in the direction opposite of you.
"Eh, outlander. Rumor is you were a terror in the fight up there in the foothills. Not that anyone would suspect it, what with the laying about you're doing. You don't know better, I'm sure, but everyone that makes the pilgrimage is expected to carry something. Bait in the trap, you know?"
Taking a pack from his shoulder, he lays it gently beside you. When you open it, you understand why - obsidian mortars and pestles, at once heavy and in danger of chipping if handled too roughly. Nodding, Utzi turns to leave. "Glad you're with us, and not them, outlander."
Drazan rakes several stones hardly even pebbles and carelessly tosses them one by one at the ground disinterested in whatever Utzi set down. "Those will clearly break when the terror of the foothills defeats more outlanders and things that live in shadows. Everyone must bare their burdens and that one is yours." Drazan gestures with a sleight of hand toward the sack. It is of course always difficult to tell how serious Drazan is being with his tone the way it is, but there is definite firmness and determination behind it this time.
Then tapping his kukri, Drazan adds with a smile, "The terror of the foothills bares your safety."
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Chukix has no problem rounding up a group of young boys and girls to serve as apprentices to the Suriname. Five in number, Apchux, Selma, Tepix, Mossy, and Alglin are similar enough in background and motivation - young, enthusiastic, of modest means, and ambitious in one way or another, whether it is a desire of increased station or a desire to see the world; they seem to all believe that hitching their carts to Imix is the best option that they have. They all arrive well before the excise is scheduled to set out, and throw themselves into working for Texikuk and then Imix when he shows up, finishing packing the carts, checking them for safety and usability, and generally trying to be helpful.
Tex turns to you, a smile gracing her sharp features. ”Thank you, Imix. Thank you for rounding up this help, thank you for the solution to our excise shortage, thank you for accompanying me on this trip.” She runs her hand along your arm, casually and a little discretely, but publicly none-the-less.
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Hamfatten pales and stands silent for a few seconds, color slowly creeping up his neck, and then his ruddy cheeks get even redder. The magistrate's eyes narrow from that first wide shock of fear as the seconds tick by, until they are meer slits, snakelike, the man's whole face scrunched up, as if he's sucked on a particularly bitter fruit.
Stepping forward, the Magistrate's prodigious torso pushes into you, his whole girth pressing you, invading your space. Then he bends down, his voice low and silky in your ear. "The only thing keeping me from gutting you these last couple of days, whore, is the fact that you're the Lord Mayor's whelp. If that's called a truce, dear, then that's what it is. But watch yourself out here - you've got no writ either, and matters of honor in the camp are settled... at a very personal, very visceral level."
Straightening up, Hamfatten looks askance to the nearest cart and reaching over the top, pulls a cord of silk from the top, easily dropping it into your arms.
"Now, make yourself useful, whore, and get walking. And for your edification, Rigel-hips... Gilders asked me to accompany the tribute, and stand with the Suriname before the King. Hopefully save someone a walk into the croc pits."
Seems the Lord Mayor had one more trouble-maker he wanted to get out of town.
Hamfatten's junior magistrates are by and large awful people, filled with avarice and cruelty. It is suspected by those like yourself (that is, in the know about the seedier aspects of town life), that one becomes a Junior Magistrate by currying favors with Bertram on the side - none of the men had much training in the science of law before their appointments, save one.
The Junior Magistrates are:
Ichbud - a particularly angry man, Ichbud was a hunter and trapper before his promotion, known to delight in the cruelty he could afford any animal unfortunate to be caught in one of his traps.
Maelkix - a weapon-maker's daughter, Maelkix eschewed her father's trade and attempted the tests to become a Chasqui, though she failed. She wields a spear and a kukri she made herself, and is known to be an excellent tracker. Rumor is that she gave the silkworm smuggler Rondo a two-hour head start before she followed him into the camp, later dragging his corpse back to town after he 'resisted' her citizen's arrest - an act that caught Hamfatten's eye. They are also rumored to share a bed from time to time.
Casent - the oldest of Hamfatten's magistrates, Casent is the grandson of a former Head Magistrate. He by all accounts is smart and meticulous in taking on his duties, though most everyone in the know assumes he's been corrupted by Hamfatten just like the rest.
Anton - Dim and happiest when he's drinking, Anton is the pure muscle of Hamfatten's outfit. An excellent wrestler in his youth, Anton still partakes in contests from time to time. He's known to be overambitious for his gods-given intellect, leading him to overreach his station on occasion, though his plans have always been easily quashed by the much cannier Hamfatten.
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As the excise sets off, one more traveler appears. Suuha sprints up to you, and barely breathing with difficulty, claps you on the back. "Istiel! Seems Domhnall wanted me to accompany you. Probably came to his senses and realized you've got the social graces of a rancid turnip. Don't worry, I'll help you out when you stammer. You've been to Cornucopia, right? You know I've never been? Never been out of the Towering Forest, actually. What's it like? Is the monastery there huge? How many monks?"
Never breaking his questions, Suuha notes the others and grabs a bag from a nearby cart, and then so it goes, Suuha filling the spaces between your answers, on into the day, any hopes you had for a peaceful walk shattered...
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The excise moves slowly out from Shadeholme, along the Wooded Way, a finely paved and maintained road that leads to the capital. Most of the day is spend moving roughly to the northeast, with the old forest towering overhead. The rain dies off late morning, and again the temperature rises, though the trees overhead provide some relief, from both the rain and the heat.
As Ayida-Wedu climbs to her highest perch, the smell of carrion assaults the players’ nostrils, and two large murders of crows flank the roadside, one to the right, and another to the left. Most of the crows circle the sky as if in frenzy, their cries reverberating throughout the area, while some sit silently in the trees overhead, watching as the excise procession comes to an unsure stop.
This time, Rigel has the sense not to provoke Hamfatten any further - she's about to open her mouth when she catches sight of Issy shaking her head quietly: Don't cause trouble. Gritting her teeth, she grips the cord of silk and does as she's told, walking away from the magistrate in absolute silence.
Only later, once she has regained some equilibrium, does she trust herself to speak. Approaching Istiel, she is uncharacteristically diffident as she addresses the monk. "Any chance I can keep you company? Promise not to talk too much or annoy you."
...
..
.
As the convoy passes along the Wooded Way, Rigel wrinkles her nose at the smell. "Something's wrong. Let's go see." Slipping as silently as she can, she does her best not to disturb the crows as she investigates.
"A dark sign, what else could this be" Drazan says to himself joining the unsure stop. He looks around to see where the few people he knows have gotten to see what they are doing.
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Imix turns, looks around at the others, then puts a hand on each shoulder of the smaller woman, staring intently into her eyes, and speaking quietly. "Texikuk - I want you to understand. Helping with the excise, accompanying you - these are things I do because they are the right thing to do. You are a hard working, talented and loyal citizen. Perhaps a village like this does not understand how lucky they are to have you handling their excise - but I do. You do not owe me any special favour for these acts. Tekixuk the Excise-Head can rest easy that her ethics are as pure as ever." He nods in formal respect - good enough to be seen at court.
Moving his hands from her shoulder, he steps back. "If Texikuk the woman would like to resume her interrupted conversation with her friend Imix from the night before last, my tent is open to you tonight."
He looks over the apprentices and sighs slightly "I feel I will be busy for most of the day."
"Apchux. Selma. Tepix. Mossy. Alglin." he calls on his "apprentices" to assemble, noticing Mauni assembling with them.
"I salute your desire to better yourselves. I intend to be a harsh but fair teacher and taskmaster. You know Chukix - he is my right hand. What he says, I say."
He moves over to a pile of supplies, picking up a backpack from a pile of 7. "Do not carry too much. Do not wear yourself out. You will each carry your own supplies, as will Chukix and I, for the whole day. In this backpack is a canteen, ensure it is filled - after I finish talking Tepix. There is also a bedroll. Two blankets - you will curse the weight today, but be grateful tonight. A mess kit. Five days of rations. Various cooking implements - you are responsible for cleaning your implement, learn which is which. There is tinder - though I doubt we'll be able to have a fire for a while. There is also a grooming kit. As Suriname apprentices you are expected to look presentable. There is one backpack for each of you. As I call your name, come up and receive one."
After the packs are handed out he goes to a small sack and pulls out 7 slings. He keeps one for himself, and hands one out to each of the apprentices. He almost hands one to Chukix, then stops, tucking it into his belt. "I remember your aim, Chukix. Safer for me to keep it." Finally he picks up seven long, wickedly sharp spears. Each spear is twelve feet long, thick wood, with a thick crossbar built into the top. The point is currently concealed inside a mulberry wood blunt training sheath.
"Yes. I am giving you weapons. Do not swing it yet Alglin. I wish to be very clear here. You are not trained in these weapons. You are not warriors - yet. You are to avoid combat. Chukix and I will teach you the basics of a sling. The sling is a ranged weapon, excellent for hunting and useful in combat when used in large groups. You should be able to practice while we walk. The spear is known as a "Crocodile Spear". It is a defensive weapon. The spear is braced - like so." Imix expertly slams the spear into the soft ground, bracing it with his bodyweight. "From here I can ensure anything running at me runs into the point. On a conventional spear a creature might be able to then move down the shaft to attack you. Certainly the men we fight will happily accept their death if they can kill you as well. In this case they will run into the crosspiece and be stopped, allowing others to kill them while you hold them pinned. Stop crying Apchux."
"Should we see combat, you will take up a position around a cart, point the spears in all directions and do your best to look dangerous. Your job is not to kill the enemy, your job is to make someone else look like an easier target while we kill them."
Imix looks, if anything, sterner "If we are attacked, and you run into the woods, your punishment is simple - we will move on. You will be trapped, alone, in woods full of cannibals. You run, you die."
"Selma. Repeat what I said." he orders, listening carefully to the halting recital "Good, but not perfect. We will work on your memory skills. Tepix, what was wrong with the repetition?"
Noting Chukix's quiet cough, Imix nodded approval of Tepix's halting recital, then squatted onto his heels and called all the children forward.
"I remember when I first started training. It was overwhelming. I can only assume you are all the same. Remember that you can do this. It will be hard, yes, but not beyond you. You will not be punished if you truly are doing your best. Should you succeed in your training, you will have the opportunity to become true powers. Magistrates. Priests. Mayors. Marriages will become available that might see your children nobles. More than that, you will have the opportunity to become someone who actually makes a difference. You will have the opportunity to be someone who controls, rather than who is simply controlled. These are opportunities that are worth killing for. Worth dying for, if necessary. You have already done better than almost any child in Shadeholm."
There is warmth in Domhnall's voice, perhaps even a tinge of pride, you think, as your Master rocks a bit on the balls of his feet, hands clasped behind his back. "One kill and three assists, with no harm brought to yourself? Well done, Istiel! Monks, pay attention! Hit hard and quickly, and work with others that compliment your strength, and you too can be volunteered to travel to the capital. Istiel, when you arrive, visit my old friend Blythe at the monastery - she is Master there. Explain our situation and ask for assistance. Perhaps she has some monks she can spare?"
Taking the sack from you, Domhnall unstoppers one and swirls it within the gourd, holding it up to his ear, and then smells it before pouring a little on his finger and the finger disappearing under his mask, tasting it.
"Yes, there is blood distilled in some manner. I will study these potions these next days, and I hopefully will have some answers for you on your return. Now, for today, I believe the midden heap has developed an unfortunate odor with the recent warm weather. Please take a rake and turn the garbage into the earth, until the smell is no worse than a dog's fart carried in the wind."
Istiel says nothing, but she is inwardly beeming with pride from her master's praise. A simple nod follows when Domhnall mentions Blythe. Surely the monks in Cornucopia will join our cause. Cornucopia has little need for them.
She bows her head when he mentions he will study the potions. "Thank you master. I will keep one for my own study on the road." The reveal of the inevitable, stomach-churning chore that follows doesn't even dampen her mood. This monk had achieved glory today, and that was all that mattered.
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Istiel's eyes wander around the Excise as they set off. Was there anyone here likely to cause trouble?
Hamfatten was known for his loose interpretation of the law, especially if it favored his interests, but he was a magistrate none-the-less.
Rigel may or may not be trouble; after their encounter in the mountains, the monk was curious what the woman's true motives and desires are. Perhaps Rigel was right, and she was too quick to judge. Or, perhaps not. Time would tell.
Utzi was a drunk and a brute. Cut from his dependence he could be a liability. She vows to watch him- it is possible only herself and Drazen could detain that bear of a man. It may take both of the warriors.
The monk picks up a pack in addition to her own supplies, but she keeps herself light. Her job was to protect, not be a pack animal. Of course, her "light" excise pack weighed over forty pounds, but caused her no trouble. She begins walking, a fltuter of excitement in her stomach at the thought of seeing the wondrous capital again- and having a few days to privately study the strange mountain man brew...
As the excise sets off, one more traveler appears. Suuha sprints up to you, and barely breathing with difficulty, claps you on the back. "Istiel! Seems Domhnall wanted me to accompany you. Probably came to his senses and realized you've got the social graces of a rancid turnip. Don't worry, I'll help you out when you stammer. You've been to Cornucopia, right? You know I've never been? Never been out of the Towering Forest, actually. What's it like? Is the monastery there huge? How many monks?"
Never breaking his questions, Suuha notes the others and grabs a bag from a nearby cart, and then so it goes, Suuha filling the spaces between your answers, on into the day, any hopes you had for a peaceful walk shattered...
First, she hears the running. Turning her head, she instantly recognizes the flame-like mask of Suuha. A deep, heavy sigh escape from her lungs, and her left eye twitches when she is clapped on the back a few moments later. "Yes. Yes. Ah. Big. Yes." Her head swivels to look at him at the last question. "More than five." Hazel eyes stare out of her mask for a few moments as she tries to grasp the reality of the situation.
He was going to talk like this the whole trip. There was no escaping him. No privacy. No peace. ...no different than monk's mound I suppose. She grunts and looks back at the road. "I do not stammer."
-----------------
Rigel
-----------------
When Rigel approaches Istiel, she is in the middle of trying to tune out Suuha's monologue about how unfortunate it is they have to wait an entire season for most flowers to bloom again. Her voice is a welcome distraction among the constant buzzing, and she immediately turns her head to listen.
"Any chance I can keep you company? Promise not to talk too much or annoy you."
The monk stares at her for a moment or two. Then her eyes squint into a smile, and suddenly she throws her head back to bark several deep and reverberating laughs. It carries on for several seconds, her head falling back to towards her chest, before she looks back at Rigel with mirth in her eyes. "Talk too much? Annoy me?" She gestures to the buzzing monk-fly next to her. "This is Suuha. He will be your competition. Good luck."
After a moment's consideration she notices there is something off about Rigel's posture. Fear? She is a a strange one. Brave one moment, cowardly the next. Lacks conviction, perhaps. Istiel shrugs, adjusting the weight on her shoulders. "Everyone here is under my protection. ...even Suuha. Fear not the open road. Ah, your question- Yes."
---------
The crows are a welcome distraction from Suuha's droning. The carrion smells similar to the midden heap she cleared yesterday, preparing her senses for the assault. It was a simple matter to investigate- the monk draws a flint-tipped javelin from her back, using it to shoo back some of the crows on the right side of the ditch. She tries to catch a glimpse of their feast.
The Suriname's lessons are eclectic to say the least. A few lessons on how to walk with a pack and spear at the start. A series of descriptions of the various known peoples. A quick discussion on the various types of known magics. A quick drill on forming up into a rough spear square in the case of attack. A discussion on the types of plants they are passing. A stomach-churning explanation of barbarian blood-magics. A stone gathering exploration that turns into an impromptu sling-throwing lesson.
Imix is not shy about calling on others to help, either.
"Utzi - would you mind coming here and showing the children your sleeper hold?"
"Magistrate Hamfatten - as the one most knowledgeable on legal matters, could you describe how the inheritance laws apply to persons missing for more than a year?"
"Head Exciser Texikuk - your grasp of mathematics exceeds mine. Could you explain the Exciser system of abstract symbolic addition?"
"Drazan - the ones we fight speak a language I do not know. Can you teach us a few simple phrases? Perhaps 'surrender or die'?"
When the ravens are spotted he nods "The raven. A feeder of carrion. Inedible and largely useless. The raven is, nonetheless, one of the smartest of all birds. This is an excellent opportunity to practice sling skills. Everyone please draw your slings and start aiming - don't aim near anyone investigating."
-----------------
Istiel
-----------------
Rigel cocks an eyebrow quizzically at Istiel's slightly cryptic remarks about "competition," before realising what she means. Despite her impulsive nature, she is a good reader of people and social situations; it doesn't take her long to work out a plan. She gives a sly grin - Rigel likes competitions. And she cheats, unmercifully.
Let's see how long before he decides his vows can't hold up in my company.
Catching Istiel's eye, Rigel gives her a surreptitious wink (Leave this to me), before proceeding to tease the unfortunate Suuha relentlessly...
...in word ("I'm glad we've got warrior monks with us - I hear you spend all day with weapons, you must have strong muscles, right? Let me have a feel... Do you know what my experience is of men with big muscles... You worship all the gods, right, not just Damballah - how do you worship Anaisa Pye? We should compare notes... Is it true that some monks test their purity by sleeping with young women?")...
...and in deed (pretending to be hot, constantly fiddling with her clothing, removing it and putting it back on, offering him "accidental" glimpses of her bare flesh, running her hand over his arm to "see how big your muscles are").
...
..
.
Rigel has a satisfied expression as Suuha leaves them be: Yep, I've still got it.
She looks impishly at Istiel. "Now we can walk in silence."
And - perhaps to the monk's surprise - she proceeds to do just that.
...
..
.
================
================
Texikuk smiles, this time grabbing your wrist and holding it with both hands. "Well, I was counting on your tent being open tonight. That side of the ledger has to be balanced, yes?"
Releasing your wrist, she smiles again and makes her way to the head of the procession, a slight swagger in her hips as she makes her way, the normal rigidness of her posture gone, if only for a few moments.
-----------------
Your child-soldiers apprentices prove to be eager students. Over-eager, perhaps, and certainly prone to the lapses that children have, but despite the headache coming on as the day grows longer, you find yourself smiling as the others heartily taking part in your lessons. It seems a welcome distraction on the road.
Utzi feigns indifference before quickly dropping his sack and tackling a terrified and squealing Mossy, while Texikuk provides a dry recounting of simple accessioning principles. Hamfatten offers a quick lesson, verbatim you suspect from the lawbooks themselves. "1.17 - Death and Taxes, Inheritance and Duty to the People. Upon the death of a Takayah, despite the cause; being natural, of misfortune, the will of the gods or man - as in life, 70% of ones' possessions must go to the Capital, while the remainder may stay with the family of the beloved, or if a will is designed, another person or persons deemed successor, up to 30% as in the case of familial inheritance. If there is no will nor any family, 100% of the deceased's possessions shall go to the Capital."
Eyes glinting, the Magistrate kneels to the level of the tallest of Imix's pupils, and puts the large sack he's carrying on the ground. "What that means, apprentices, is that if your mum or da dies, then you'd best hide as much stuff as you can in a sack like this, far in the camp, away from dear Tex here. And don't let me know about it either, har!"
-------------
When the caravan stops, the apprentices grab their slings and begin twirling them, silent and nervous, awaiting further instruction.
==================
==================
Suuha plays along for a while, flirting back and talking of his prowess and form, before eventually begging off as Rigel's attention becomes more intense. "I uh, had something to ask Paola. About, er, boneflowers."
Paola, for her part, seems to appreciate the attention and returns Suuha's sudden interest with a barrage of questions of her own. At times they even talk over each other, both in constant motion, moving up and down the line, often still annoyingly close.
--------------
When the caravan stops, Istiel spreads the brush with her javelin, peering into the woods, which are shaded and dark. Crows perch in the treetops, cawing incessently, most pointed to the south. Just as she sees Rigel's backside moving farther into the woods, Istiel notices Suuha again at her side, his voice thick with tension. "What now? Should we follow her?"
You move through the woods, your boots mostly finding purchase on solid ground and not leaves or snapping twigs. As you go, the crows sit thicker in the trees, their caws ringing in your ears. Others you catch between the branches of the great old trees above you, circling and whirling, black dots against the grey, cloudy sky. There must be hundreds in all, their caws pulsating as you draw deeper into the forest, almost like cicadas at the height of their seven-summer cycle, shrill and agitated.
Within the woods you come upon a grisly scene - five dead men accompanied by large wolves. The men are unrecognizable, their eyes eaten by crows and more recently, their faces by the wolves, six of which are still there, their muzzles slicked with gore. The crows perch, agitated, in the nearby trees, flapping their wings and cawing at the wolves. One particularly large wolf, reddish in coat and with gleaming yellow eyes, lifts her head from the face of a dead man and sniffs the air before she turns her head to you and growls. "Go now, babe-in-the-woods. These men, their faces, loins, innards - they belong to my pack!"
Your attention drawn to the red wolf, you realize with some alarm that four of the wolves have slipped unseen into the woods...
===================
===================
There's some confusion as the excise procession grinds to a halt. The laborers look about nervously, while Utzi's militia and Hamfatten's men circle the excise, weapons drawn, peering out into the woods. It was not unheard of for particularly desperate men to try and raid such caravans...
Doing her best to look inoffensive - and inedible - Rigel raises her hands and backs away slowly. "You want them? Fine, they belong to you, not a problem. At all. No."
Of course, her curiosity gets the better of her. "Er - who are you? If you don't mind my asking. It's just I never met a wolf that could talk. Never met a wolf, actually, come to think of it."
"Oh yes - do you know how long these men have been dead? Or what killed them?"
"Anyway, this has been fun - do I get to go now, please?"
Imix laughs at the squeals when Mossy is tackled, grinning at Utzi "Yes! Surprise is a critical advantage for an attack!" He nods along with Texikuk's accessioning, and looks a little disapprovingly at the magistrate's joke. "The magistrate is joking, of course." he explains, needlessly "The reason so much is taken is to stop the inheritance of wealth displacing a need for each generation to prove themselves."
When the children start twirling he waves them to continue "Remember to watch where your stone will go if you miss your target."
Remembering the interest his little tagalong had displayed earlier, he squats down near Mauni. He nods to her and pulls out his spare sling and a few pebbles from his belt. "Would you like to try as well, Mauni?"
There is no fear in Imix. Ravens would not flock so if something waited in ambush. They sought carrion. Logically, there was a source of much carrion nearby. The road was primarily used by people, so the carrion was presumably dead people. It was probably the site of a slaughter, the bodies dragged roughly off the path. Still...
Imix stands, looking for his secretary.
"Chukix, remind me to advise that the whole line practice a defensive drill. If this were an attack we would have taken casualties already. Oh - and ensure no-one runs off when the bodies are found."
-----
Rigel
-----
Istiel watches, amused, as Rigel attempts to tempt Suuha into breaking his monastic vows. Of course Suuha plays along at first, there is no way the goof could resist. But as Rigel's attention gets more intense, Istiel begins to feel... uncomfortable. Simultaneously a tinge of jealousy strikes her, and she is about to tell the woman that's enough when Suuha makes his own leave.
She doesn't respond to Rigel when she says they can walk in silence. While her silence is perfectly expected,this time it's because she doesn't know what to say. Rigel could probably her the subtle breathing exercises as the monk keeps foreign emotions firmly stoppered- in... out... in... out... through her nose.
----
Caravan
----
Istiel looks to her side as Suuha suddenly appears. and then back towards Rigel. "Yes. Quietly." There was at least four day's worth of emphasis on that word.
Still gripping her javelin, Istiel begins to silently make her way through the brush with Suuha towards the focus of the crow's attention.
The red wolf cocks her head, yellow eyes gleaming in the shadows. A large droplet of drool, red with blood, shakes itself loose from her jaws and lands on the dead man below her, his face an unidentifiable mess.
"They call me Mother Hunger, babe-in-the-woods. Lucky for you, Rage Wolf saw the crows circling, and it led us to this fat feast. Not so lucky for the crows, though. And lucky for you, I don't get to talk to many babes-in-the-woods."
Mother Hunger straightens and shakes herself, blood and drool flying from her maw. Taking a step forward, she lets loose a low rumble. "Lucky for you, you amuse me, for now..."
---------------------
Mauni takes the sling, and though she's half the age of some of the apprentices, the girl seems dextrous - she picks up the basic motion easily enough.
Chukix nods and gives Imix a quick smile. "Of course, Suriname Imix. We'll drill them as soon as we have the moment. Apprentices, stay close! Keep your eye on the treeline, but don't loose your stones unless Imix or I says so!"
Drazan moves toward the front of the procession, "Who called a stop?" he calls looking for the reason behind stopping in such a place.
==================
Istiel
==================
Rigel listens to the sound of Istiel's breathing exercises for quite some time, before finally cracking. "Did I do that wrong? I thought you wanted rid of him so you could get some peace."
She looks - and feels - pretty miserable right now. Everything's going wrong...
...
..
.
"Pleased to meet you, Mother Hunger - I - I think." A thought strikes Rigel. "Who is it that calls you that? Are you a local to this valley, I mean, if I told someone I'd spoken with you, would they know who I mean? Or are you visiting? - Oh, sorry, I didn't introduce myself: I'm Rigel. Rigel Quicklingfay. Also known as Rigel Notdelicious. At all. Rigel Inedible." She's not sure that's believable; she suspects that she looks (and smells) pretty good, even to a wolf. Perhaps especially to a wolf.
She wishes she hadn't thought that.
Rigel tries to gauge how amusing she's being, and when it's time to run; or climb a tree. Most wolves can't climb trees, she's heard. But then, most wolves can't TALK.
She wishes she hadn't thought that, either.
Rigel toys, briefly, with the idea of offering them Hamfatten in exchange, but that's so far beneath her she's ashamed she even thought of it. He'd do it to her, in a heartbeat. But she's not him. It's one of the things she likes about herself. Issy would do it. Hm. She's going to have to keep an eye on that girl, make sure she doesn't become too bitter at the world at large.
To do that of course, she needs to live.
"So, um, shall I go and tell my friends that the men here are yours and that you are keeping them? I'm sure that won't be a problem..."
Eventually, Haffatten speaks up. "Hips and the monks went into the woods. Shouldn't just leave them here, should we?"
Perched on Issy's shoulder, the raven All Feather begins to croak and flap his wings, shifting from clawed foot to clawed foot in agitation.
Mother Hunger stops moving forward and sits on her haunches, and gives you what can only be described as a grin, mouth open and toothy, tongue lolling out of her mouth. It strikes you just how big the wolf is - she must have 100 pounds on the coywolves Shadeholme raises.
"I have always been Hunger, babe-in-the-woods, from when I was a pup. Just like Rage Wolf has always been Rage Wolf, and Sneak has always been Sneak. Then one day I killed the leader of this pack. I took his throat in my jaws and crushed it between my teeth, and then I was Mother Hunger."
"I go where I want, babe-in-the-woods. Hills, forests, it doesn't matter. Only the towns of men have kept us away, and do you hear the crows? They say the time of man is coming to an end..."
Drazan's voice rings out, somewhere behind you, "Who called a stop?"
You ghost through the woods, though Suuha is not so apt - you can hear him stumbling clumsily behind you, seeming to hit every branch and leaf. As you go, the crows sit thicker in the trees, their caws ringing in your ears. Others you catch between the branches of the great old trees above you, circling and whirling, black dots against the grey, cloudy sky. There must be hundreds in all, their caws pulsating as you draw deeper into the forest, almost like cicadas at the height of their seven-summer cycle, shrill and agitated.
Pushing past a large elderberry bush, just now greening with new growth, you stumble onto a gruesome scene - two large wolves sit among five dead men, their eyes eaten by crows and more recently, their faces by the wolves. One particularly large wolf, reddish in coat and with gleaming yellow eyes, sits talking to Rigel, who is stopped about ten feet to your right.
"They say the time of man is coming to an end..." the red wolf says, her mouth open in a wide toothy grin, as three wolves, one to Rigel's right, two to your left, slink through the woods.
Drazan's voice rings out, somewhere behind you, "Who called a stop?"
Rigel catches movement just out of the corner of her eye: Suuha, hiding - badly - to her left, and beyond him, two of the wolves slinking through the trees.
"It seems there are more babes-in-the-woods," the red-coated wolf says, as she lifts her snout to the wind and sniffs. "Take them with you when you go girl. We'll not be surrounded like cows. And tell your friends these men belong to us." The wolf stops sniffing and stares at Rigel, yellow eyes unblinking, her voice a low rumbling growl. "I'm beginning to get bored with you."
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-----------------------------
Last night
-----------------------------
The prayers are as ever a source of great comfort to Oios and he is content to let Telowo lead the ritual as is his right as head priest. The presence of the gods is an ever present reality of Oios' life but in the movement of his hands through the water a certain clarity does come to the former inquisitor on the question of his immediate future. Damballah no longer required him to work as a lone bringer and steward of the law of the Father of Waters but now to serve with others in the defense of the society he had caused to be built for the Three Peoples. The story of Hainu bubbles to the surface of Oios' thoughts and he nods to himself.
As they part for the night Oios gives Telowo a fierce hug. I fear for your safety Telowo though I trust you to Damballah's will. May we meet again soon in better times the day has been long for Oios and though he would love to have spent all night catching up with his old friend the times demanded that he sleep and recuperate for the start of the long journey that would commence the next day.
As he takes his leave he says to Telowo in a bit of an embarrassed tone If you could look after my books I would be grateful but remember that they are by far the least of your concerns. I am fond of them but unlike you, unlike anyone they are just paper and ink and replaceable.
-----------------------------
Next Morning
-----------------------------
Oios nods at the elders of the Meadhston family and Kiko, having met them before and to Korya he says shortly
As they set off Oios notes, as expected, that other than the laborers and Texikuk's retinues, the rest of the people of the caravan stick to their own little groups. It is not surprising that the little group of volunteers that had discovered the horrifying truth of what was happening had become their own little troop and were walking together. Amusingly Rigel and Isitel were walking together rather than Isitel's monk friend.
To them he said.
In my prayers yesterday I remembered the story of what happened to Hainu. It is of some relevance I feel to where we find ourselves
------
Hainu, as I hope everyone here remembers, was the first son of Damballah and Ayida-Wedu, he was the smartest and most intelligent of the gods, it was he who taught the Three Peoples how to build mounds and manage the waters, how to build aquedacts, and canals, and roads, and watchtowers. Without the secrets that he learned and imparted to us the society we have built would not be possible. The engineers and craftspeople that we all rely on are his students and venerate him still.
But Hainu's intelligence and ambition did not stop at the great secrets that he had learned and already imparted to the Three People's but was insatiable.
From the depths of his workshop Hainu's experiments and creations went from impressive to wondrous and even beyond. It is said that he built machines that would allow anyone, even a mortal child, to throw their voices from one corner of the world to the other in a way that would make Makaya's messengers useless. Powerful weapons. Intelligent golems that would supplant human labour. And most remarkably it is said that he even built a device that could construct anything else in the world with complete perfection making Loco's farming and Ayizan's trading unnecessary as anyone could at any time have whatever they wished created for them.
And of course he learned how to mine rare ores from the ground and transform them into the metal that we sometimes get from foreign lands as curios. It is said that far more than trinkets the metal was the key to the rest of Hainu's awesome creations.
It was with great excitement that Hainu invited Damballah to his workshop to show him his wonders but as Damballah surveyed what Hainu had wrought the expression of the Father of Waters changed from approval to despair as Hainu explained how they would improve the lives of the The Three People.
"My son, your creations are truly remarkable but they are disruptive. Already some of these tools are intruding on the domains of the other gods and would weaken them if they were to get into mortal hands. They will make Marinette and Mami Wati terrible a thousand fold more than what they do with even the little toys that you built for them?"
Hainu was crestfallen that his father was not proud of him.
"But Father. Does not Makaya's magic do the same things?"
"Yes my son, but Makaya's powers are exhausting and even the greatest practioners of her art can only do much before fatigue stops them. They still need the support of others. Your creations are relentless and they will make it so that mortals will have no need of each other. They will destroy the society that they are meant to live in. My son, will you not be content with what you have taught them?"
Hainu's face hardened. "No Father, I seek to build a better society and if it means that what you have built will be supplanted then so be it. I will teach these secrets to the people and they will take my teachings and build even more things such that even you would not be able to stop the progress" so saying Hainu shut himself in to his workshop and refused to see anyone as he prepared to spread all of his knowledge."
Damballah pounded on Hainu's door and begged and pleaded for Hainu to come to his senses but Hainu ignored him and when the younger God was ready he walked out of his workshop and pushed Damballah aside as he started towards the people.
And it was at this last moment that with great sorrow and tears in his eyes Damballah left Hainu his fierceness, his strength, and his patience, but took away his cunning and intelligence, turning him from a God into the first of the crocodiles that lived, leaving him with only the first secret that he had learned and imparted. That of how to build a mound to live in.
------
Now this is the story of why the three Peoples are not skilled at metal work and it is also the story of why the crocodiles are beloved of Damballah and sacred to us, but it is also the story of why it is that we as people may have need of each other. It is Damballah's will that we are not self sufficient but that each of us have our strenghts to contribute and it requires us to work together as a society, as a team, to live a good life, to defend ourselves, and to overcome the challenges that life sends our way.
Drazan. We will have need of your strong arm to keep us safe and perhaps even more your strong heart to keep us from becoming like those we defend ourselves from.
Rigel, I cannot tell if you are more a child of Mami Wati or of Anaisa-Pye but we will need friends and allies to help us in the days ahead and I see no one better than you to do this to build the relationships that Damballah willed that we create. That and you skill as a scout are of much value.
Isitel, the monks of Takayah are the greatest of warriors and your ferocious power and skill is what will let us match and throw back the blood lust of the cannibals.
Imix, child of Hainu, it is said that your divine powers are how Damballah in his wisdom allows us access to the intelligence and passion of his son in a safe and measured pace. I hope and believe that your Purpose will be our salvation.
and this old man Oios snorts thumping himself in the chest Will be a hopefully living reminder to the rest of you that life is fragile and we need caution as well as boldness.
-----------------------------
At the smell of carrion
-----------------------------
The crows are Makaya's dark messengers providing us great service by warning us of dire times and events Oios rumbles to Imix as he waits for the scouts (Isitel, Rigel, and Suuha) to report on what happened It would be good if your charges stop after a few have been hurt. Though I doubt they will hit anything.
-----------------------------
To Drazan
-----------------------------
Our scouts are going to see what Makaya is trying to tell us.
Rigel scrambles up. "Understood, Mother Hunger. Pleasure to meet with you. Good hunting - but if you could hunt the mountain-men and not us, that would be better, please."
She whirls rapidly, seeing Suuha. "You! Get whoever's with you and follow me! We are leaving - NOW."
...
..
.
Rigel carefully says nothing about any talking wolves when she returns, but she gives Oios, Imix and Drazan a significant look: We need to talk. Soon. Her report is utterly truthful, just not completely honest: "Looks like 5 dead bodies. No idea who, they'd been pretty badly eaten. Couldn't get close, there were wolves. About a dozen of them. Let's move on, shall we? There's nothing to see here."
She can't resist a little dig at Hamfatten. Smiling sweetly at him, she says "I think they were drawn to the smell of your blubber, to be honest, but they'll settle for carrion - for now. Don't waddle too far from the convoy, though, will you? You'd feed a pack of wolves for a week. Two, probably."
At a convenient time, Rigel gathers you all together, out of earshot of the others and recounts her story. . "I know it sounds mad, but the big red wolf spoke to me. Said she was Mother Hunger and there were others, too - Rage Wolf and Sneak."
"Does the name Mother Hunger mean anything? Is it a fable? I'd never heard of it. Talking wolves? I don't believe me, and I heard it - but I'd never make something like this up. I can fib, sure, but the trick to that is making them believable..." She is slightly worried that she imagined it all. She looks anxious. "Istiel, you heard them didn't you? Said that the time of man was coming to an end... But then they heard that from the crows, she said - and you know what they're like. Never take a crow's word for anything..."
She laughs, nervously. It's that or go slightly mad.
Imix looked over at All Feather, a thought percolating in his mind.
Imix's eyes narrow at Rigel's dig at Hamfatten.
The Suriname holds up a hand to silence the magistrate, looking at Rigel carefully.
Imix considers the magistrate carefully
The insolence is risky. All must know their place, and she has chosen to appear low-caste. If I punish her, then it undermines her case for self defence. I need to stop him killing her, though - and prevent the obvious hostage taking.
Imix nods convulsively, apparently coming to some internal agreement.
"We need to move. Apprentices in front of me." he looks at Hamfatten "I do not speak on this." he points over at Iseult and then at the apprentices "You with the Raven. Here."
----
Rigel
----
The monk shrugs, not even bothering to look at Rigel. "Do not worry. I enjoy the peace." Is all she is willing to say about the matter. Her mind clear once again, she instead thinks about what could possibly be in those concoctions they picked up from the mountain men...
---------
The Forest
----------
Istiel's eyes widen at the sight of five dead men and the wolves surrounding them. Wolves hunting people? No. Their eyes are missing. The crows found them first.
The monk freezes in place as she is spotted by the large wolf, and it... speaks. Momentarily stunned, she shakes it off with a roll of her shoulders, standing upright from the brush. Rigel is distressed. Rightfully so. What is this?
Briefly, Istiel considers attacking the beast out of percaution. There are only four others she sees- between her, Suuha, and Rigel they might be able to kill them all before the others appear to help even. Yet... There is no glory here. These strange wolves have not wronged us. Let the wilds be.
She looks to the bodies, and then to Rigel as the quick-tongued woman begins to retreat away from the canines. Once the woman is past her, Istiel gestures for Suuha to return to the road as well. One last parting look at the large, strange, talking wolf, and the monk silently leaves.
------
Back on the road
------
Istiel returns her javelin to its shoulder holster, and moves back to the road with Rigel. She looks at the woman curiously, wondering why she left out that the wolf spoke. It matters not. Suuha will tell everyone about it soon enough.
Istiel looks back at the excise as they huddle around, sharing stories like a bunch of children that had just found a colossal silk worm. When asked for affirmation, the monk crosses her arms and nods. "She speaks the truth. The large wolf spoke. Some creature or beast-man, perhaps. Quite strange. Quite foreboding."
He looks thoughtfully at Rigel "I am more interested in what it said, than in how."
"Why do your people seek your justice on men of the mountain for eating other men, but wish to simply walk by these wolves which are guilty of the same act? These wolves must be dealt with." Drazan turns to half face where Rigel and Imux had returned from.
Istiel turns her head slightly to Drazen. "Men follow the laws of nature, but expecting nature to follow the laws of men is foolish. The wolves did not kill the men. They were returning them to Loco."
"Men bend nature to their will all the time, to argue this is a joke. If the wolves did not kill them what did? Were the men of Three People?"
---------------
With the others
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It spoke? It can perhaps be reasoned with. Rigel, I know the wolves terrify you but is it possible that you could ask 'Mother Hunger' to let us examine the bodies and then we can leave her pack to their meal? Oios grimaces If they are of the People then this is not... ideal burial practice. But we can bury the remains after the pack is done. It is what would have happened if we had happened upon them later.
"Oios drives at another heart of the matter. If these wolves can not be reasoned peacably..."
Rigel's voice is cool, and dry; dry as a bone. Irony sharpened to a cutting edge.
"Oh yes, she's very capable of being reasoned with: we came to an agreement that the bodies were hers, and that I'd get to live. I call that very reasonable. And Oios, honey, my 'ideal burial practice' is that I'm not the one being buried... But if you're so bursting with machismo that you absolutely HAVE to go and attack a pack of talking wolves - who, incidentally, haven't done you any harm - feel free. I'll say a prayer for your souls, as I SURELY won't be seeing your bodies again in this life."
She shakes her head. "And if we're done, I'm going to find Issy. I've more chance of hearing something sensible..."
Istiel simply shakes her head at Drazen- it was like arguing with Suuha, always some clever come back. She wasn't in the mood. "We are here to see the Excise to the capital and request soldiers for Shadeholme. Do not forget your duties. Mine is to protect the Excise. The wolves are no threat to us, and we waste time." She's on a different, but constructive wavelength as Rigel and clearly wishes to move on.
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Korya snorts, and speaks fluently in her own native tongue.
"I have you to thank for my freedom then, old man? I'll have to share a cup of chicha with you some time in thanks. And don't worry, you need not worry about advocating for me a third time. I'm here, aren't I?"
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Color creeps once again up the Magistrate's face and his nostrils flare a little, and then he slumps a little, giving you a look - not of defeat, exactly, but of resignation. It is the look of a man that has made up his mind.
Shrugging, he turns, and says flatly, "Don't have to worry about me, Rigel-hips. I'm not the one running around in the woods. By myself."
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Back when the world was created, there was no language, only talking. All of Damballah’s creations talked incessantly; the birds, the wolves, the people, even the earth and the air. At first, all was lovely. The rivers told the people, I am going to crest now, and afterwards you can sow your crops. The wind told the flowers, Bloom, and tomorrow I’ll carry your seed far and wide. The bears told the bees, I would like some honey, so do not sting me when I reach into your hive.
And so it went, all of nature working together, talking, deciding what was needed then and there, and cooperation begat more cooperation, nature living in harmony with nature.
None talked more than the crow, and the crow was a jealous creature, for it had little to offer. It was weak and could not carry others. It was always hungry, but could not grow its own food. The crow only had its voice to offer, and its voice was a shrill thing, mysterious and foreboding, but hardly beautiful.
The crow was jealous of the river, for without the river the crow would die. The crow was jealous of the wind, for without it flying was difficult, and it was jealous of the seeds, for they flitted about with no effort on the slightest breeze. The crow was jealous of the bears, for they were big and strong, and jealous of the bees, which created such a delicacy that all creation loved them, even though they had a painful sting. But most of all, the crow was jealous of mankind, for it could work and create and imagine, while the crow could only watch and covet and scheme.
So the crow set about trying to destroy mankind. It made sure to spend its time only around man, and it worked, always in the background, always talking, to see that man’s thoughts were poisoned.
See the bear with his honey? the crow cawed into man’s ear, perched upon his shoulder. You could use that to make your food delicious. You could ferment it to make you silly and happy. And so man drove the bear from the bees, and forced the bees to live close to him, to work day and night only to steal every lost bit of labor from the bees.
See the river run free? the crow cawed. You could bind it to your will. Divert it from its channel. And so mankind did, and tamed the river, creating canals, and growing food when he wanted, and despite the rage of the river at being so abused, there was nothing the river could do, for mankind had built levees to keep the river safely at a distance.
Take the seeds, take the fish, take the hides of animals and their meat, the crow said, and mankind did. Man took what it wanted and so he began to eat the flesh of beasts, and wear their skins, and take the crops from the wind.
See how man takes and takes and takes? the crow said to the bears, the bees, the river, the flowers, and all of Damballah’s creations. You must take it back… And all of nature was horrified of the transgressions of man.
The earth shook, the waters raged, the sky rained down lightning and fire, the animals clawed and bit and stung. And man fought back, and many creatures were sent to Legba.
All the while, the crow circled above and cawed happily, for soon there would be much carrion on which to feast, and the time of man was coming to an end.
But Damballah had other plans, for mankind was his favorite creation. ENOUGH! he said, his voice thundering across the skies, the forests, the towns, the rivers. All this talking! It has lead to nothing but turmoil. From now on, every thing will have its own way to speak, only to its kind and nothing more.
And so language was invented, but not shared among different things. No longer could the rivers understand man, or the wind the flowers. And no longer could they be corrupted by the crow.
There are two interesting things happening with the birds, All Feather and the crows. While the croaking and flapping are certainly common to a raven in an agitated state, and it is certainly possible that All Feather is worked into a frenzy by the other nearby birds, it is also a sustained agitation unusual from what you know.
Ravens, while similar to crows, are not the same species of bird. These flocks of crows seem excessively big and vocal.
Drazan turns to walk back to where he was before, "No threat until they get hungry again... Fine your duties it is, leave your people to the wolves and rot until the day when their is no one left to abandon to your duties."
Drazan presses people to move forward again as he crosses the procession, "Move on, your stopping neglects your duties."
"Yes! We do not wish to camp here tonight, do we. Move along."
Imix returns to his apprentices.
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Issy approaches you, All Feather perched on her shoulder, both the girl and the bird eyeing you warily. The look on the girls face is clear enough. What!?
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The rest of the day passes uneventfully, the forest unfolding along the road as the excise makes its way further north and east, interrupted by the occasional hamlet, rustic Way Point, farmstead, or trapper's hut. Occasionally a lone traveler or small group passes you on the road - always the news is the same. Nothing much is happening to the west.
The day turns out comfortable, cooler than the last couple, and as the afternoon wanes, the rain picks up again, a bit harder and more chilling this time. Night falls, and Texikuk urges everyone on a little bit longer. The village of Tolver's Crossing lies ahead, at the Junction of the Wooded Way and a small river called the Horna that travels roughly to the southwest. Tolver's Crossing is used as a beachhead for the lumber trade - rafts are floated downstream on the Horna where they are carved up. There is fine Way Point there, with a large hearth and friendly proprietors, Tex tells everyone, anticipation in her voice, and if anyone is so inclined, warm rooms for rent.
Fittingly, the building of Tolver's Crossing are largely constructed of lumber. The village is small, probably less than 100 people, but the excise will be large, being mostly lumber. I hasn't left yet, piles upon piles of stripped trees and planks of wood laying at the base of the town's mound, a small, mostly round hillock. Atop the round mound, the Way Point sits.
The laborers and militia stay with the excise, to deter theft, settling in for an evening in the rain along with the other excises stopped for the night. Texikuk, as befits her station, leads the rest of the group up the mound to the Way Point.
Dag's Inn is busy, as it should be, given the time of tribute drawing near. A couple of groups, obviously other excises, huddle with their own, while a young barmaid, mousy and about fourteen, flits around the room, delivering food and drink. A young man, younger than the barmaid even, works behind the bar making drinks, his head barely showing above the bar, at which a few customers sit. A one-eyed man, empty socket looking out into the room, barrel-shaped like Hamfatten, sits alone at one of the tables, nursing a cup of chicha, frowning.
Tex smiles as she eyes a plump woman running some food out to the bar from the kitchen. "Meg! Nice to see you again! It's been, I bet, about six months!"
The woman stares back blackly, her voice flat. "Texikuk. And her excise from Shadeholme. I've got no rooms upstairs."
There's a noticeable shift in the mood of the room. Eyes look at your group askance, but meet the floor when you look back. Others turn their backs to you completely.
Istiel goes with Texikuk, mostly wanting a hot cup of mate to ward off the wet chill.
Hazel eyes dart over the room as they enter, searching for threats. Her appraisal of the situation is interrupted when the atmosphere of the room suddenly changes. It puts her on edge. Something was afoot.
She tolerates the silence for a few moments longer before projecting her voice across the room, notes of frustration apparent in her challenge. "Speak up if you have something to say."
Rigel follows Texikuk, eagerness to have a proper roof over her head mingled with curiosity: she's never (for very obvious reasons) got to know the Excise-woman well, but it's clear that Texikuk is extremely honest and highly devoted to her duties - qualities that Rigel respects whenever and wherever she encounters them.
Adopting her brightest, nothing-to-see-here-we're-all-friends-right voice, she steps forward. "Hi, Meg - is it? Glad to meet you - actually, we're not the excise, we're just travelling with Tex to Cornucopia. Have you heard? The mountain men have been making incursions and we're looking to the capital to protect us. I'm surprised you haven't heard the news, but maybe this far in from the frontier, you're safe... Anyway, between that and the wolves we'd be really, really glad of some beds tonight for all of us. You can fit us in, can't you?"
It's chatter mainly for the sake of noise, but it communicates the desire for friendship and the intention of not being here to cause trouble. She also keeps a wary eye on the room - what's really going on here? Things were fine just a moment ago...
With no reason to do anything other than go with the official Oios narrows his eyes at the sudden chill in the room. Texikuk obviously was not expecting the cold shoulder so something had changed in the six months from when she had visited last.
Kiko, Utzi, Korya and the others pull the carts close to one another and after a quick conference, decide on a watch schedule. Still early in the evening, the group gets out some smoked eel and sets about a quick and wet dinner. There will be little comfort tonight - no fire, plenty chilled and damp. But that is the lot of the laborers and the guards that accompany the excise, and there is little grumbling.
After dinner, Utzi pulls a small barrel from his pack and passes it around the group - chicha, brewed by Utzi himself, sour and strong and warming.
Eventually, Utzi rises and takes the barrel over to another of the excise groups. "I'll pass the cheer around a little."
A few moments pass, and shouting starts, first an unknown voice, and then Utzi's baritone, rising over the rain, urgent and angry.
"You're with the apprentices for now, girl. What are you called?"
Imix wasn't happy about pushing on through the dark. The apprentices were obviously flagging, and pushing them to collapse would set a terrible precedent. Best not to interfere with the ruler, for now. She has made the decision. His lessons turned less physical, and he kept his eye on the apprentices.
Once there he stopped, and called the apprentices together "Alright apprentices - follow me. You have done well. We will see if we can get you all a warm room tonight. I will demonstrate some arcane principles after dinner."
The reaction to Tex struck him as strange. He concentrated on Meg, completely missing Alglin wandering over to talk to the barmaid, and the glint in the young man's eye as he hefted his new spear over his shoulder.
Something has happened. Unsure what was happening, he let Suriname instincts take over, and he moved to stand behind the others, then froze into immobility.
Apchux - tween. Cried when told about defensive formations.
Selma - tween.
Tepix - tween. Acts without thinking or waiting as he tried to fill the canteen.
Mossy - tween. Tackled by Utzi.
Alglin - . Swung the spear the moment he got it. Hit on barmaid at Tolver's crossing.
Mauri - female young, not a formal apprentice. Wants to become a Suriname.
Fixed
Drazan is more than content in the rain as he sets down to eat. When Utzi's voice rises, Drazan looks up from his chewing to see what is happening. It was common for the other slaves to squabble, but Drazan supposes everyone must do so regardless of standing.
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Iseult and All Feather stare at Imix for a few long seconds after the Suriname addresses the girl, a mixture of conflicting emotions playing across Issy's face; eventually, fear wins out. Whether it is fear of the Suriname or of being apprenticed to the Suriname, with the other children, it is difficult to say. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head wildly back and forth, the message clear. No! I don't to!
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You can make out a few handcarts pulled together, behind which Utzi went with his cask. A few guards and laborers sit in the rain, watching the commotion behind the nearest handcart of the excise to you. Utzi's voice drifts over the rain, and you can make out a few words. "Bastard... not true... murderous..."
And then what is undisputedly the form of someone not Utzi, sailing over the nearest handcart and landing in the mud. The members of the excise are immediately in motion, sliding off their carts and standing, and running behind the cart, fists raised.
"Balls!" Korya curses, and dropping her dinner, the woman runs towards the handcart, Kiko following.
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The room goes dead silent as Istiel issues her challenge, the only sound being Alglin, who was apparently in the process of propositioning the waitress, his spear resting comfortably on his back. "That's right, lovely. A Suriname's apprentice. Be assured this ain't the only large piece of wood I know ta..."
Tailing off, Alglin looks around sheepish, aware he's been speaking to the whole room. Luckily for the boy, no one seems concerned with him, and luckily for you all, Rigel steps up and diffuses the situation a bit.
Meg regards the smaller women, looking Rigel up and down and evidently coming to some sort of conclusion. "Mountain Men, eh? And who's going to protect us from you, love? Who protected those poor souls at Piney Bluff's Tribute House from yours?"
Turning to Tex, the innkeep continues. "You and some of them can stay in the common room tonight, but no weapons." Meg pauses and looks at Istiel. "And no soldiers."