|
|
4/13 - Our sleep was disturbed last night by a werewolf with designs on our horses. By the time I was fully awake, Decimus, Tamara, and Robyn had rendered him unconscious and he had reverted to human form - a sight Decimus actually tried to shield me from seeing! Where I got this reputation as a prude, I cannot imagine. Decimus thinks that, if he can obtain wolfsbane, there is some small chance of restoring the poor man to his right mind, so we are sitting in camp while he and Robyn go looking for some. If they don't return by sunset, Tamara and I stand ready to put him out of his misery, and we are taking care not to restore him to consciousness. From the look of him, he may be a deserter from the legions, or some other rough type, and I don't think much of our chances to cure him, but of course we must make any effort we can. The thought of slitting his throat in cold blood is distinctly unpleasant; and the fact that Tamara says she'll do it, as if expecting this to cheer me up, doesn't help any. Later: Decimus and Robyn returned in company with a party of locals, who go by the name of the Striking Hawk tribe. We gave them as good a supper as our supplies would manage, Alfredus generously contributing his private stock of wine, since Robyn had bought only ale, as cheaper and more thirst-quenching. They gave us much useful information about the area, and warned us of the various uncivilized tribes and monster clans in the area for which we are bound. They particularly warn us of the Soaring Eagle tribe, who are less civilized than the Hawks. We have given them one of our horses, since the barbarian tribes used to be chariot-drivers when they lived on the plains, and a certain cachet still remains to the owner of a horse, though the hills into which they have been driven do not support cavalry. (Ethnographic detail on dress, manners, etc., omitted.) Alas, Decimus at length determined that it is too late for the wolfsbane to have any effect, and I administered last rites and let the execution proceed. It is very sad, and the foul odor of the burning is bound to keep us awake all night. I can't help but feel that this is a bad beginning to our sojourn in the wilderness. 4/14: Well, this was an exciting day! We forded the river and left the trail this morning, but the terrain was tolerably clear. We were riding quietly along when I heard a sound as of the flapping of wings. No one else detected the noise, but in a few moments I was justified, as two hippogriffs dove out of the sky upon us. One nearly caught Decimus, but Alfredus knocked him off his horse before it could do so. Our horses needed little urging to bolt for the tree line, but my Milkweed, being scarcely a racehorse, trailed and provided a tempting target. I was still trying to cock my crossbow - a singularly useless instrument in my hands, I fear - when one of them snatched me out of the saddle. The others promptly hurled missiles and spells at it, and I felt it begin to lose altitude, so I healed myself preparatory to being dropped or, worse, landed upon. Fortunately it dropped me before it lost momentum. Tamara immediately poured her healing potion down me - I must dig out the one I had intended to give to Xenophon and give it to her - and the result is that I am almost as well as ever. This tunica will never be the same, but when I finish this entry I will sew up the rents and it will still be good enough to travel in. Olaf and Sven butchered the hippogriffs, we have collected feathers, claws, etc., for Uncle, and the steaks smell delicious. Olaf is expressing concern, since Sven went looking for firewood some time ago, and has not returned. Robyn and Alfredus are going looking for him. Later: Robyn and Alfredus had not returned by the time we finished eating the steaks and full dark had come, and Decimus, Tamara, and I were preparing to go in search of them - though I fear with little hope of finding them in the dark - when they returned, a dazed and happy Sven in tow. It appears that our servant has had the great good fortune to meet a nymph who decided not to strike him blind. Olaf, who had been quite worried, is now cross in proportion, and Decimus, who no doubt is jealous, thinks we should flog him for neglecting his duty, but I can't see beating a man, and incidently making him less able for service, just because he had an opportunity most men only dream of. I'm not sure any sort of discomfort would penetrate his head just now, in any case. He said dreamily that he thought he might have encountered a goddess, which I suppose is figurative, but I had better have a little talk with him privately when I have a chance. If any punishment is in order, I expect he'll suffer enough, the next time he wants female company, and can't find anyone to measure up to his newly-elevated standards. Tamara has been flirting shamelessly with Decimus, but I'm not positive he's noticed. Sometimes I think she's making progress, and other times I think he's got a head made of wood, and she'll need a hammer and wedge to penetrate. Sven says the nymph warns that there are ogres hunting the area, so we'll keep a good look out. They live south of us, and Uncle's device is still sending us west, into Soaring Eagle territory. 4/15 - We met Soaring Eagles today. They speak much less Tarantine than the Hawks did, and my attempts to converse only annoyed them, so in future Robyn, who speaks the language, will do most of the talking. I'm afraid I am considerably out of my element here. The Eagles are all pagans, and my cloth appears to them as a threat. They seem obsessed with the notion that all Tarantines trail armies behind them. Of course, if the Crusaders had their way, we would, but I hope saner heads will prevail. (Discourse on sectarian politics in the Orusian church, followed by ethnographic observations, omitted.) Decimus thinks that the device is leading us southward now, possibly out of the Eagles' territory. They dislike their southern neighbors, and seem pleased at the thought of foisting us off on them. 4/16 - We gave the Eagles two horses for their "hospitality" and felt ourselves well out of it as we followed the river south to the ford, crossed, and continued to follow the needle as best we could. We passed an earthworks fortification of some sort, possibly abandoned, but did not investigate. 4/17 - In the morning, we spotted a village - a real, old-fashioned village with crops and thatched roofs, presumably belonging to the enemies of the Soaring Eagles, the Glendor tribe. Hoping not to have to deal with the locals until we knew where our goal was, we circled the village, but the device was leading us directly inside and, when we could no longer put it off, we rode up to the gate. They assured us that their chieftain wanted nothing to do with Imperials, but Robyn talked our way in. Though it was still before noon, Chieftain Manrin was holed up in his - well, they call it a hall - eating and drinking with a rabble passing for local nobility. It was dark and smoky, but Tamara pointed out to me a woman in one corner, who did not seem best pleased with the proceedings. He kept us standing and was very sharp with us on the purpose of our visit, until the woman - his mother Milell - reminded him of the proper forms of hospitality and got him to release us to refresh ourselves, and resume business over luncheon. She speaks Tarantine relatively well - once your ear grows accustomed, the local accent is rather charming - and not only showed us to a guest hall with clean straw, but gave us the freedom of the town and *baths!* Decimus took the opportunity to pinpoint our desired piece of real estate, which to my relief is a piece of wasteland on the edge of town, with a large rock on it that the locals have felt it was too much work to level for building. Decimus and I can actually feel the power radiating from it, though he feels it much more strongly than I, and Tamara and Robyn can't feel a thing. I had a pleasant and informative chat with Milell, and learned that Manrin's hatred of the empire stems from his brother's running away to join the legions, rather than staying and leading the tribe. I gather Manrin is not particularly power mad and understands his unfitness for the duty, though he doesn't therefore seem to feel any compulsion to render himself fit. Milell feared his price for our property would be the return of his brother, but I made her understand that this was beyond Uncle's power, though in the matter of material goods he could be very generous. She took herself off while Tamara and I did each other's hair, no doubt to speak to her son. Luncheon was raucous and not particularly pleasant, but I continued my acquaintance with Milell and Alfredus made himself agreeable according to barbarian lights. I had thought he was more refined than that, but I suppose the Empire is only ever a veneer in some people. In any case, he succeeded well in getting Manrin into a good mood, which has sufficient merit that I can't condemn the way he went about it. Robyn was able to negotiate an excellent rent - 200 gp down, 200 gp per year, and a cartload of pig iron on occupancy. There are mines in the vicinity, but orcs have inhabited them for some time, rendering them useless to the tribes, so all metal is precious metal out here. Having concluded our business with such agreeable rapidity, we are free to amuse ourselves this afternoon prepartory to leaving tomorrow. (Results of picking Milell ‘s brain for local information that might influence Uncle's behavior toward the tribe omitted.) Question for Ben: Is there any Orusian place of worship in the village? Are there any other shrines, etc.? Did I get the names right? I wrote down "Milel = Lady, Manrin = bozo," but I thought I remembered the lady addressing her son as Milell. Sofia will spend the afternoon with Milell , finding out about the local situation and being friendly to the women of the place. She will make extensive notes in her diary, in private, about the chieftain's house, pinpointing Milell as his best ally if Manrin ever acts up, and making suggestions for keeping her sweet. Take particular note of any want of small luxuries that would please her, but would not cross her son's radar as suck-up presents. If she admires anything of Sofia's - her cosmetic case, an ornament, some item from her scribe case, etc. - make her a gift of it, casuallly. Nothing she carries is very valuable and all of it is easily replaceable, so such a gift would be mere courtesy. Is there a wife in the house? It would be good to cozy up to her, too. Sofia is rather less at a loss in the women's quarters than she is elsewhere in this - er - quaint place, and this is the place to turn up any surprises that might still waylay the project.
Last Updated:
Saturday, 26-Apr-2003 21:25:57 CDT
|
