042 – A Tale Of Two Caravans

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 43

Even here, some people just don’t ‘feel’ right.

The next few days found the three hiking on the main road south. Abey produced a road map, and they plotted their general course, south to another main trade road, then northwest through a second small city and into the capitol. About five days to go at their current pace.

At the crossroads of the trade roads they encountered a trade caravan, headed generally toward the capitol. After some minor conversation, the three decide to fall in with the caravan and travel with it. However as they walked along with it, the caravan all seamed rather standoffish.

As they walked there was little talk, and not much interaction between the crews on the various carts. Steven found himself in an old familiar cadence as he walked along, some of the chants and songs from the Corps returning to memory. Caspian and Abey both noticed an uneasy feeling about the presence of the three of them as they went as well.

That evening, the caravan stopped in another way-stop. The caravan took the whole place, so Caspian suggested they go a bit farther, after refilling their water. No one from the caravan made any effort to be hospitable to them, or prevent their going on. They went on to a small hill further down the road, and turned aside into a stand of trees there. It was drizzling some, again. Abey had mentioned that this area always had wet spring times, and they were half way through this one. There was some kind of precipitation every second to third day. Abey set up her tent quickly, as Caspian and Steven quickly set up a lean-to for themselves, having done so repeatedly over the last weeks.

Abey assembled a stew as Caspian and Steven hiked the hill between them and the way-stop. Responding to his instincts, Steven crawled the last distance to the top. To his initial surprise, Caspian followed Steven’s lead, also crawling up and stopping beside him under a scrub. Steven noted that the sun was off to his right, and not likely to glint off anything he or Caspian had, and then he got his binoculars out and looked the way-stop over. Nothing had changed from when they had walked out. The various groups were gathered at their fires with the appointed cooks serving food. But he did not see any bedding provisions being made.

Caspian nudged Steven. “Tell me what you see.”

“They are eating, and generally staying out of the weather.”

Caspian asked a question that bothered Steven, but he could not say immediately why. “Do you see any women or children?”

Steven looked the camp over again, and then handed the binoculars to Caspian.

“No. I did not see any dogs while walking among them, either. Now I see a few. They might be local to the camp, but…”

Caspian had seen Steven use the binoculars enough to understand them, but this was the first time he had been handed them to use. He looked through and marveled briefly, then got back to business. He found himself counting the wagons, and dividing the men accordingly. The number he came up with seemed odd to him.

Caspian handed the binoculars back to Steven. “I’ve seen enough. I don’t sense any active magic, and did not while among them. But their numbers strike me as wrong; too many men per wagon, without any families. Some caravans might do this… Let’s go, I’m hungry. Cyrril can watch them.”

Steven put his binoculars away, and started to crawl backwards. “Any spells you could do to find out any more about them?”

Caspian thought about this. “No. not that would be helpful. If they have a wizard along, he would sense anything I do immediately.”

At the bottom of the hill they noticed that Abey kept the fire just large enough to cook on, and had only the stew cooking. As Steven approached, he trod a bit heavy to let her know they were coming. The rain ceased and the clouds moved east as they sat around the small camp. As they ate they conversed more, sharing their observations.

Caspian started. “There are too many men per wagon, and no families. Did you ever get any caravans up where you lived, Abey?”

“No. We were too far off the beaten path. We had to go the larger town to the south for market fairs four or five times a year. They would only get two or three traders each time, plus the tax collectors once a year.”

Caspian nodded. “That is about how things are where I live. For us the town is northwest, with larger trains on their circuit. Twice yearly a south-bound train goes through the village. But there are always women, children and domestic animals along.”

Steven had his own suspicions, starting to develop from training and instincts long unused. But he was not sure how to express them. For the moment he kept silent about them. He turned to Abey.

“Can I look at that map you have?”

Abey handed the map to Steven. It was a roll of soft leather neatly scribed by a good draftsman. Steven could not read the script, but he could tell terrain, other features, and generally where they were after a moment in the dim light. He traced what he figured were roads, and tried to do some comparative math in his head, wishing he could trust the scale of this map more than he felt he could. He looked at the map and then at the terrain around them.

That seamed like the right decision.

“Would either of you be averse to a little night walking?” Steven asked as he looked the map over again, and up at the overcast sky.

Caspian answered. “What do you suggest?”

“I think we are all agreed that this is an odd caravan, and that the further away we get the better. There is a crossroad with a smaller side road a few miles up the way. It will take us west around to the next spoke road into the capitol. If I have the scale right on this, and you are willing to hike in the dark, we can get there without too much trouble, and maybe half way to the other spoke before falling asleep on our feet. Another long day like this, and we should be in the capitol without any lost time.”

Abey put her bowl down in her lap for a moment, looking at her tent and her mule she had taken to calling Miri. The mule stood asleep on its feet where she had tied it. She took another spoonful and gauged how tired she was.

Caspian looked out to where he felt Cyrril hunting for whatever the little beast was hunting. Then he looked up at the clouds. They had long since passed out from under the planetary ley lines, so all he could sense was as much as anybody, with the addition of all the native life energy ready to be gathered as mana should he call for it. He felt a bit tired, but no more so than any daily exertions. He could go on if he needed to.

Caspian rethought what Steven suggested. “You sound like you want to try to get to the capitol before they do. Can you say why?”

Steven shook his head. “Not yet. Just that something does not seem right about them.”

Abey put her finished bowl aside. “Well, Miri is asleep on his feet, but I expect he will go wherever I lead. Are we that badly spooked?”

They looked around themselves. Steven’s instincts were telling him to go quickly. Caspian felt Cyrril alert, and then dive on a rodent. His doubts about the caravan nagged at him. Abey felt the wind shift slightly, causing her to shiver and wish for better cover than the few trees they were huddled in.

As Caspian cleaned the pot out and put the fire out, Steven and Abey took her tent down and folded it up. Miri did not complain noisily as they strapped it back to the pack saddle. Caspian and Steven collapsed the lean to and they were on their way. The back edge of the clouds passed over them before they were another hour along. The moons provided more than enough light to march by. They turned west onto the smaller road before very long. Steven was glad that the road was hard enough that their tracks did not show. Miri was shod, and Steven still wore his hiking boots from home, both of which left distinct tracks.

Only one moon was up when they stopped. They had moved into a forested and hilly area. Miri soon led them into a copse of trees a few strides off the road. They were all asleep on their feet, Cyrril having curled up around Caspian’s neck. A gentle breeze had swept most of the moisture from things, and they all just curled up in their cloaks on the ground where they stopped.

Steven dreamed. He marched in boot camp and spent a day there, going through those drills. After dinner he was in advanced training, going out into the field in a ghillie suit with a spotter to drill in being a sniper.

That morning a light drizzle woke the three up. They had a small breakfast and headed out. Steven noted that moving around would get them warmed up as much as any fire, and they still had a good distance to cover to get to the trade road ahead of them. Fortunately most of the terrain was flatlands, this valley running north and south.

Abey set the pace, dragging Miri along. They munched on some leftovers as they marched. Abey alerted to something and her sling was swiftly in action. Steven turned to see her stone hit and knock over a local deer. Just as quick Abey was at the struggling creature’s side and slitting its throat before it could up and flee.

Steven walked over and helped her gut and bleed the creature. This creature was a female, but of thin body. Steven guessed that it was perhaps two years old and only approaching its first rut. Steven helped Abey drag the carcass back and put it on Miri’s back as the rest of the blood drained. Miri was not happy with the fresh kill on his back.

Steven watched as Abey led Miri on and though about how quickly she had done what she did. He leaned over to Caspian who had watched the whole thing.

“Remind me never to make her angry.” Steven noticed as they continued to walk that Caspian seamed lost in thought. Then he started talking as if to himself.

“That last train, I did not see any livery on them. The caravan trains I know usually have at least one mark of livery on each wagon. Some even have badges for each train member. I don’t remember seeing any on those guys.”

By dinner time, they were in sight of the crossroad, below them at the bottom of a long hill. The main road wound back and forth, but a smaller trail went straight down the slope, like a needle through a loop of thread. As they had crested the hill and looked down at the crossroad, they saw the last wagons of another caravan train heading north on the road toward the capitol. This last wagon had a few banners from poles on its back end.

Not long after dark they caught up to the caravan at another way-stop. The three travelers were welcomed into the stop by a hoard of playing children. A small herd of stock animals mixed with the penned draft animals in the nearby corrals. Where the prior train had been insular, and barely tolerant of the presence of the three, this one welcomed them heartily, and even helped to slaughter the deer, and prepare the hide for further tanning. In payment, Abey gave most of the meat to the traders, who immediately made fresh steaks and stew from it. A smaller camp space was made available for them, and the three were quickly resting as the latest stew simmered over a fire. Steven claimed a few of the steaks, and cooked one to go with his stew while stowing the rest.

Abey summed up their conversation as Caspian and Steven sat.

“This is what a trading caravan should look like.” Abey spooned herself a bowl of stew.

Caspian nodded. “Yes. Families, women and children, dogs, cats, older people.”

Steven had an idea click into place with another one, but like a puzzle, he did not yet know how it fit together with the whole. “That last company: all the men looked to be older than Abey, and younger than me.”

Steven had been looking around, and spotted the common livery. A grey dog or wolf leaping over something, a mountain or hill, against a green background, with a gold shield around.

“Who are these people?” He watched as a few boys ran past, playing with wood swords.

Abey answered. “I think I know. I think they are the Mountain Wolves. My ‘Umpa told of trading with them once in a while over the years. Mostly furs, sometimes meat, on occasion vegetables, and metal.”

Abey was right. The Mountain Wolves had thirty six wagons in this train, with sixteen families. As the three moved among the caravan the next day, they noticed that each family, or pair, had a smaller domestic wagon pulled by a single team, and one or two larger cargo wagons pulled by two teams. Several of the wagons also had a third team hooked up and walking behind the wagon on rest. The average family was made up of a father, mother, five children and one grandparent. The oldest children helped with the animals and driving the wagons. Some of the families are larger. One of the wagons in the train had a little old wrinkly couple driving it.