028 - Starting To Go Native

Steven found it strange to travel by foot through an agrarian nation. It seamed that all the land was either being used as farmland, or range land, or was older growth forest. He asked once about getting some kind of mount to ride, as they passed another herd on the nearby hills. Caspian responded that none of the local horses were for sale, particularly as spring and its chores came into full.

They soon passed into the area governed by Tonif. The range lands gave way to plowed fields with rock walls on their edges. A few of the walls show older split rail fences on or in them. Steven later estimated Tonif itself to be about four square miles, being arranged to a square. The road they traveled followed a river that ran through a culvert through the timber and earth-works walls.

Steven again felt very conspicuous for his size and his costuming. On the other hand he realized that he felt quite comfortable in this town. The market here was larger than in the previous hamlets they had passed. Here Steven was able to get a large enough shirt with sleeves long enough. He also got some local thread. Caspian noticed that Steven felt more comfortable in the market than he had in any time since Caspian had first met him.

Steven left behind both of his t-shirts from home with a fabric merchant, one was already wearing out. He also traded out the blanket he had been using as a poncho for a larger one as long as his coat. Steven looked over the leather merchant stall, and some other market stalls. Last he went to the weapons dealer.

In the weapons stall, Steven inspected and chose a crossbow, with a packet of bolts. This was not a large crossbow; to Steven it seamed almost toy size. But it was large enough. Steven could pull on a metal handle where the bolt of a rifle would be, and with a good yank pull the bowstring to its locks. Then slide the handle forward and seat a bolt. The grip was just a little small for his hand, but the furniture was nearly identical in general form to any submachine gun he had ever handled. Steven would have preferred a longer stock between the grip and shoulder butt, but it was the best available. Steven was surprised by the quality, until he realized that these people had to live by their craft, and so they made the best they could. Caspian dismissed the workmanship on the crossbow, unimpressed. With a shoulder strap attached this took up position over Steven’s shoulder, with the bag of bolts at his right hip.

Steven also inspected the swords. He did not know any specific weapon-smithing, but was surprised at how well he could discern the quality of the workmanship. He sorted through and chose a sword blade without any furniture. The smith was right there with a small forge, anvil, and several tools, and finishing tools. Within an hour this skilled artisan had a proper crossbar, hand grip and pommel attached and secured that fit Steven’s hand. During this time, Steven went to a leather stand and got a leather piece for a sheath for the sword, some fur, and some leather thong and leather straps. While looking over the leather, Steven realized why he felt comfortable, and the setting familiar.

After leaving Tonif, Steven began talking about his realization. “When I was younger, still in high school, my older brother got into a group called the Society for Creative Anachronism. He got me to go along with him several times, to what they called a Renaissance Fair. This last town felt like a fair.”

Steven stopped talking, clearly choked up. Caspian checked his magic senses, and saw Steven’s aura in flux. He let the subject go, despite his curiosity. Eventually he noticed Steven handling and practicing the sword a bit, doing what appeared to be correct, so far as Caspian knew sword play. Caspian picked up the thread of conversation at dinner, by the campfire.

“You appear to respect your sword.”

Steven held it a moment, then put it aside to work on the scabbard.

“I mentioned my older brother, and the SCA. While with them, I learned a bit of basic sword fighting and care. My brother though he could fight. He got involved in a brawl, and tried to use his ‘skills.’ He got knifed and bled out. I never went back to the SCA, and went into the Marines instead. They taught me how to truly fight, and kill.”

Steven had a seam started in the leather, and folded the leather around the sword blade and began sewing it up. For the next while he sewed the seam up the length of the weapon, pulling the seam tight. At the top he attached the small piece of fur, carefully sewing it so that when right side in it would wipe against both sides of the sword blade. When he finished with the fur, he slid the sheath off the sword, and using the open end turned the sheath right-side in. He then proceeded to assemble the leather straps, and cut the whole to length. The next morning Steven attached the straps to his belt, next to his ka-bar knife on his left hip. Lastly, with the sword stuck in his belt as he walked after Caspian, he closed the bottom. It was not high quality work, but it would do.

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 9

Caspian calls these mountains. They are just big foothills.

Steven and Caspian were a few more days along, had crossed another short mountain range, following a river valley, and had entered a lower altitude forest, and were approaching a village. This forest was in the young leafy-tree stage, instead of the older pine stage. The leaves mostly past bud, showing it to be mid-spring. The loam on the ground soft under foot. The trees stood mostly in clusters, being young enough that the weaker ones had not yet begun to die off. The few pine trees were very tall, thick, and showing fire scarring on their bark, with no limbs in reach from the ground. Here and there were dead and dying falls, large balls of root forming small hills against the larger foothills they were trekking through.

Caspian had made a big deal about a marker they had passed coming out of the mountains into these highland hills. They had entered territory actively claimed by a kingdom. In itself this was not a worry, but many kingdoms charged entrance fees. They still had three days travel to the closest village, most of it range land. Steven had the crossbow out and loaded about half the time, partly in response to the idea of the infantryman’s teddy bear; partly for opportunity to practice against any critter they did not scare off from the sound of their movement.

Steven could sense that Caspian was a bit uneasy, but he kept going along the muddy foot path. Caspian had explained that he preferred game paths to roads, as a bandit was less able to find them away from the roads. But that was not what was making Caspian uneasy. His general unease was getting Steven’s senses on edge.

Aside from the sympathetic unease from Caspian, Steven was feeling frustrated and only his dependence on Caspian kept him from charging off. Steven was feeling alone, with all that gave his life meaning having been striped away or left behind. Partly Steven was in circumstances that he found unbelievable and was unable to cope. Steven was still having trouble with mana and magic. Up to this point he was still not fully accepting of even the idea of mana affecting him, as Caspian warned him occasionally. As Steven dwelt on the negative, it was energizing the negativity in him in a growing spiral. As soon a Caspian realized that Steven was struggling, he realized what he had to do to best help Steven. So Caspian cast a quick spell, and cut Steven off from the mana that surrounded him. This staggered Steven, and left him feeling like he had a cold, all of a sudden.

“What did you just do? What happened?” Steven leaned against a tree to regain his equilibrium.

“I placed a shell around you that has cut you off from the mana around you.”

“What?”

“Why should it matter to you? You don’t think mana is real.”

“Feels like I have a cold. Fine, so this mana is real. Now undo it.”

Caspian shook his head. “The shell will dissipate on its own in a few hours. In that time, you will learn of mana by its absence.”

Caspian noticed Steven stagger a bit as they went on. “You don’t feel well, do you? That is because you aren’t able to draw on the mana around you. You will feel better in the morning.”

Steven continued his mumbling and grumbling, but realized that he was only hearing his own inner voice now, and that earlier he had heard the world echoing whatever he thought. This led him to begin focusing on the positive. The first week of traveling he held himself aloof, but Caspian chided him on this. Steven now readjusted and was solidly on his way to figuring things for himself. As he sat by the fire, he almost sensed the magic shell around him dissipate, but more so it seamed that the colors of the world became more saturated and vivid again. He started to see himself as he really was, in this world, and to act as such.

030 - A Few More Straight Answers

The next morning, Caspian cast a scrying spell to locate Roxanne specifically. Steven did not mention yet, but he had once been an avid reader of fantasy, starting with Tolkien, moving through much of the rest of the published library as it then existed and interested him. The falling out he had with the SCA had closed that chapter. As Caspian worked on his pan of salt water, he responded that he had a clear image, and had found Roxanne: she was in a fortress-structure, in a city in the kingdom west, whose boarder they were to cross before leaving the forest, if they had not passed it already. After cleaning and packing up, the two men started off. Caspian encouraged Steven to practice his sword work as they travel, and know that this will somehow work out for the best.

Steven was still irritable, but he found it easier to marshal his senses and focus on the job at hand. Now he had more information, if the source was to be trusted.

They left the forest and entered the highland farmlands that surrounded the next village. Caspian could tell that Steven was upset again, and was waiting for him to express himself. He was getting a bit irritated himself at that point. Steven was continually walking what felt like a half step too close or several too far, varying his pace as his thoughts affected his mood. Then he stopped in the middle of the road as they past a cornfield nearly ready for planting.

“Caspian. I want a straight answer.”

Steven had found an instinctive way of hitting just the right tone to get Caspian’s nerves. He stopped but did not turn to face him.

“You want.” Caspian let his irritation loose with that phrase, but spoke slowly to keep it in check. He could sense mana start to swirl around them, like a light breeze. “That is about all I have heard out of you for the last week. Don’t you ever think of anything besides what you want?”

Steven all but snarled back, waving his hands about to emphasize his words, unaware of any mana buildup, just that he was starting to proverbially see red. “Yes, I do. I think of my children being somewhere that God only knows. Of my wife being somewhere else. All of them in jeopardy. Of my business in trouble without me there to solve the problems. Of…”

Caspian rounded on him at that point, just missing the top of Steven’s head with his staff. Cyrril complained as he dug in to keep from being thrown off.

“You are still thinking only of what you want. What about the farmers we have been passing? The merchants and their businesses? Do you think of them? Do you have any idea what will happen to them it we do not get your kids back into your hands?” Caspian continued, moderating his tone and speed, trying not to loose control.

Steven stepped up to argue. “How can I?” He was yelling now. “You won’t tell me anything. I have no idea what makes my kids special to whoever has them. I don’t know that my problems affect these farmers. You seem to, but have refused to let me in on the secret, instead keeping the whole world on your shoulders.”

This statement could not have hurt more if it had been a sword running Caspian through, wounding him with its truth. He took a step back, and a deep breath.

Cyrril was picking up on the agitation, and if Caspian was not careful, would make it worse.

“All right. Try this.” Caspian took a breath. “The people who have your kids are the retainers of the dominant evil rulers in that part of this world. They want to have your kids raised to become purely evil. Then turn them loose to conquer as far as they can. They don’t care what this means to you, or what it will mean to that farmer, or anybody. And right now you are acting the same way.” Caspian pointed out into the cornfield as he spoke.

“Well, Atlas, I am, am I?”

“Yes. And you’re irritating me greatly.”

“Well gee. I wouldn’t be acting this way if you would just tell me what’s going on.”

They stood almost nose to nose, Steven most of a head taller, in a ridiculous shouting contest.

“Right now we are going to get your wife, before continuing after your kids.”

“Yeah. Right. So where are we going?”

“To the capitol. I don’t remember the name just now.”

“What will we have to do to get there?”

“Walk. And not kill each other.”

“And after that?”

“Figure out how to get your wife back.”

Both of them were too disciplined to throw the first blow. But they also were to the point of needing a physical release, or this would not end. All through the argument Cyrril had been hissing and spitting in tune to Caspian; his fight-or-flight was at a much baser level than either of the men. Cyrril took the first swing, and swatted at Steven.

Steven slapped Cyrril off Caspian’s shoulder, and into the ditch at the side of the road. That set Caspian off. The staff almost moved on its own, right into Steven’s chest knocking his wind out and him down.

Steven lashed out and kicked Caspian’s feet out, he went down. They both got to their feet, already covered in road dust.

Steven was shrugging off his pack, crossbow, and great coat, as he drew in more air. He threw them as one pile to land almost on top of Cyrril as they cleared the ditch. The little beast did not see them coming and Steven was not looking where he was tossing. Unburdened, he drew his sword.

Caspian simply adjusted his grip and started in on him with the staff.

They both stopped for a moment, looking at each other to see if they were going to commit to this. Then they closed in a clash of staff and sword, fists, arms, legs, and bodies. The dust up could not have gone very long.

When it was done Caspian had a few more nicks in his staff, and a bloody mouth and nose. He also needed a new outer cloak, or to repair a slash the length of his arm. Steven was limping and cradling a sore shoulder

Cyrril, for his part, was the most upset having landed in an irrigation ditch full of mud.

Steven and Caspian kept their silence until nightfall. As they sat by the campfire, Caspian mended his cloak, and thought about what he knew and did not know about their situation and the lands they were traveling through, and how much he could tell Steven, and how to say it. He finally spoke.

“Steven. I’m not used to having traveling companions. You are not used to this land. I have to learn to share my information. You need to learn to better keep an even temper. So here is where things sit. You need some more experience with this world, and to continue to change your costume to look more like a native. I have more information to share, but need to check with some sources first, to get it right. We also need to go retrieve Roxanne. From there we can get on with retrieving your kids. They will all be safe enough until we can get to them.”

“How do you know that?”

Caspian held up the small amulets he had made some days before.

“Aside from this, I know because of what my sources told about what is wanted with your kids. To get them, you and Roxanne need to be together, at least in spirit. As for Roxanne currently, last I knew The King here is as good a king as anybody can expect. I remember something about a habit of looking for new recruits for his harem. Once he learns that she is already married, he won’t touch her. More so they will be expecting us to come and get her.”

“I look forward to meeting these sources of yours. Maybe they can give me some comfort about my kids.”

They sat and watched the fire for a while. Then Steven spoke up. For the first time in a while he was asking questions about this world, rather than about their plight.

“Something happened while we were fighting. Normally, when a person’s heart rate goes up the motor controls get dull, and perceptions focus to the exclusion of the peripheral. I felt like the opposite happened for a few moments. Like I could sense everything, and see your moves before they happened, but not always.”

“You were tuning in to the mana of this world.”

“That sounds like ‘the force’.”

“Similar idea; and it is found in virtually every civilization, in their history and literature. The summary is this: As you focus yourself, you become more effective and aware of what the energy of the world is trying to tell you. You eventually get to the point where you open up to direct unfiltered input from the world around you. You can then use this power to increase your natural abilities. Like anything, the more you do it, the better you get.”

“I think I have experienced this before, shooting. You say it has something to do with this mana? Does that mean that I am going to go into a fugue like that the more I fight?”

“Something like that, if you are open to it. You need not worry about casting magic about; that is an inborn talent, and none native to your world are able to use it. Does all this worry you?

“I’m not sure.”

“This world is saturated with mana – with life energy. Eventually everyone becomes what he or she thinks they are. The natives are trained from their infancy to be who they are, just like anywhere else. As a visitor, you are bound to experience some strange things. Tell me, what do you see yourself as, not just your costume, but your person?”

“A protector, a former Marine officer. And a businessman. A father and Husband.”

“In time you will be able to draw on the magic of this world to enhance those rolls. Not in any way you can conceive of now, but you will,” Caspian assured Steven.

031 - Steven’s Call To Compassion

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 13

OODA-Orient: Cultural Traditions, Genetic Heritage, Previous Experience, Analysis & Synthesis, New Information. What kind of culture is this that has such traditions?

Caspian and Steven had passed several highland farms and ranches, and were now approaching the central village of this area, walking on its main road. As they passed a stand of trees, Steven noticed a young woman tied to a stake in the ground. Caspian also noticed, but then passed on. Steven turned aside and knelt to look at her. She was out cold, or asleep, using most of the rope for a pillow. She was a young woman, and small, probably less than 5 foot by Steven’s reckoning. She wore a leather shirt, leather girdle, home-spun trousers, and leather boots. Her hair was very dark brown, with some sun streaks in it, and tied back with a kerchief. Her plain features were tanned, but showing a burn right now.

She had the rope tied around her left ankle, the other end secured to a stake in the ground. The circle inscribed by the length of rope included a small bush off the side of the trail, but was otherwise barren of growth and shade. Farther out was the edge of the clearing, allowing some shade, but not in the middle. The road Caspian and Steven traveled passed by, but did not cross the circle.

Steven moved to free the woman.

“You don’t want to do that,” Caspian warned.

“Why?” Steven had his knife out, to cut the rope at her ankle.

“She is here for punishment. If she really wanted to leave, she could have. She is wearing her own knife.”

“Leaving her here to die of thirst is not punishment. It’s torture.”

Steven laid her out. He then poured a little water into her mouth. After a bit, she stirred, but did not awake.

“I guess she is from this village?”

“Most likely, or the surrounding farms.” Caspian just stood by, not trying to help a wit. “And now that you have cut her loose, and began to care for her, you have just created a bit of trouble for us.”

Caspian sighed, shrugged, and then turned to inspect the trees. He then pulled his bush knife from his belt, and lopped two branches from the trees. Both were about half again as long as he was tall. Next, he lopped most of the smaller branches off these, leaving the few on one side to form a bit of a bed.

Steven pulled out his blankets, and laid the largest one out. He then put the branches across it with their few remaining limbs in the middle. The blanket was then folded over the branches to form a bed. Steven then laid the young woman on it, and wrapped the blanket the rest of the way around, adding his second blanket to the roll, to hold her in. The branches extended easily beyond either end.

“Take the other end, and we will be off.” Steven stood at the girl’s head, ready to pick up the short end of the makeshift stretcher.

“No. She is your problem. Those are long enough to drag. You just need a bit of a yoke.” Caspian pulled a length of leather strap from his bag, and handed it to Steven.

“I don’t believe you. You would just leave her here to die?” Steven was incredulous.

“This is not our concern. She was here for a reason. Getting involved like this will only make things worse. And I won’t do it.”

Steven took the leather strap, measured it, and tied it into a loop that ran over his shoulders, and down by either hand. He then knelt and put the loops around the ends of the branches. Lifting the end up, he stood, being sure that the woman did not slide out.

“Fine. But I thought you helped those in need.” Steven shifted the strap to balance the load, still looking accusingly at Caspian. “Let’s get going.”

Steven then set out, walking past Caspian, dragging the travois behind him. He did not have to take it far.

They passed one more meadow and were at the edge of a farming village. Steven dragged his burden to what appeared to be the town square. Here he lay her back down and was accosted by what passed for local law enforcement, who had followed from a shop at the edge of town.

“Who are you, and why are you bringing her here?” Steven looked the man over. He was a head and a bit shorter, but considerably thicker than Steven; his garb seemed to Steven to denote that of a smith. His face looked to be perpetually sunburned, with a liberal application of ash and slag rubbed in, which also coated his leather apron. His soot covered hair was scraggly and long, tied back by something that only kept about 3/4ths of it back. The rest just floated about his head.

Steven remembered his last encounter with any police. This guy might not be so patient. “My name is Steven. I was traveling in this direction, when I found her tied to a stake in the ground. She needs healing.”

The smith did not even look at her. “Did she ask you to do this?”

Steven shook his head. “No. She has not aroused since I first found her. If she does not get help soon, she could die.”

The smith continued to look unconcerned. “If that is what she chooses.”

Now Steven was annoyed. “What happened to human decency? Doesn’t anybody care for anybody here?”

Caspian stepped in. “Steven, I tried to tell you. She was there for a reason. None of these people were helping her there, they won’t help you here.”

The smith spoke again. “If you help her, she becomes your responsibility. As a stranger I can give you this much. Put her back, or keep her.” He folded his arms, and puffed his chest out at Steven.

Steven looked around, seeing that several passers-by had stopped to watch and see. In passing he realized again that he was taller than everybody, by a good margin.

“You’re saying that just by trying to get her help, she becomes my responsibility. How’s that?” Steven was increasingly incredulous.

The smith continued his huff. “She was out there as punishment. If you are going to interfere with that, she becomes your responsibility. Take her with you, or put her back.”

Steven looked around, considering what to do. He looked at Caspian, but got no help there. He looked around, and finally saw one person looking more than impassive. A woman with a basket of shopping in her hands, looking concerned. The woman caught Steven looking at her, and abruptly turned and walked away. That settled it for him.

“Get me your healer.”

The smith shrugged. Then turned and walked away.

“Caspian, do you know anything that could help?”

“No. That is not my kind of magic. But I don’t think she needs magic. Just some proper care and food.” Caspian shrugged his shoulders.

Steven blew out a big breath, and sat down. “If we leave her here?”

“She is yours now. If you leave her here, they will ignore her, and she will die.”

“Wonderful. So now I have to see to her while traveling to find Rox.” Steven stood up. “Did you see the woman with the basket?”

“Yes. You noticed that she seemed to be the only person concerned. Cyrril is following her right now. Probably the girl’s mother,” Caspian speculated.

Steven looked where she went. “Let’s go see if she will help.”

He turned to pick up the end of the travois, when a large, grubby, middle aged man got Steven’s attention. This man was all but stomping at them.

Caspian seemed to notice him at the same time as Steven. “Who is this?”

Steven put the travois down as the man approached. The man swung at Steven, who blocked it without thinking and slugged the man dropping him to the ground where he stood.

Steven stepped away, careful of the travois. “What was that about?”

Caspian just stood by, watching curiously, and then knelt down next to the girl.

The grubby man got back to his feet. “I won’t let you have her. She’s mine.”

Steven cocked his head. At another time he might have found a way to relieve himself of this, but that did not seem right, now. “Oh, really? Then why weren’t you seeing to her needs? I found her out there nearly ready to die.”

The girl’s weak voice answered Steven’s question. “I will not accept his help. I will not have him.”

“That is not for you to decide. Your father and I settled the matter.” The man tried to move to lay hands on her.

Steven just stood in his way. “It seems to me that she already made her decision, and that is the one that matters. Otherwise, she would not have been where I found her. I am a stranger here. But I gather that she is my responsibility now.” Steven did his best to look as imperious as he could, summoning all his Marine Pride, standing to full height and stature.

The grubby man shrunk a bit, but was not ready to give up the issue. “She has no say in the matter. This was already settled between her father and me. She is my wife now.” He turned his attention to her. “You had better learn that. That is why you were out there.”

Steven could hear Caspian quietly chanting over the girl. But his primary attention was on this thug, and how to end this situation. Then a thought whispered to him. “Was the union consummated?”

This caught the grubby man off guard. “What?”

Steven knew that he had found a crack. Now to exploit it. “Have you slept with her? Have you been naked with her, and had her?”

Steven had no idea what the local euphemism was, but his question seemed to get across, and kick his opponent where it counted. The man turned red with anger, and slipped into apoplexy.

She answered the question, with a laugh that seemed to cut deeper into the man’s ego than anything Steven could do.

“Well, then. Since I am the one currently caring for her, and you being refused of her, I don’t think you have any claim. Now stand aside, before you get hurt.” Steven had softened his voice, to the condescending tone used to address one who was not bright enough to understand anything more.

Like a bubbling mud pot, the man finally boiled over and again tried to attack Steven. But the fight was over before it began. In three swift motions Steven had him on the ground, gasping for air and grasping between his legs in a private world of hurt.

At that, Steven rolled him over to face the other way.

Caspian had stood back up, and looked a bit amused by what happened. Steven looked down at the girl. Her dark eyes looked up at him in gratitude, and she managed a week smile.

Steven then picked up the end of the travois, and dragged it out of the square. Caspian directed them to where Cyrril was, at the house of the girl’s family. Her father was not home, but her mother was, and had been the woman with the basket. She quickly and graciously provided Steven with some food, herbs, and medicines and the girl’s things including a bedroll, shoulder bag and rucksack. Caspian, being the bag holder, repaid the woman, and they were on their way before more trouble could find them.

That night, when they finally stopped for camp, Steven’s arms and shoulders were quite sore. The girl had drifted at the edge of awake much of the time, but not really into coherence. Caspian and Steven made camp, and put together a soup rich with the herbs from the mother. The girl drank most of the broth, and then collapsed into real sleep.

Steven realized that he did not yet know her name, as he went to sleep.

032 - Starting To Make A Difference

The next morning as Steven and Caspian put breakfast together, the girl was ravenously thirsty, a bit week and unsteady, and coherent enough to only begin to communicate. Her name was Annabelle. But she liked to be called Abey.

Annabelle grew up the daughter of a herds-man/farmer, named Criga, outside of this village, Beowa. She had plenty of skills both domestically and as a herder/wrangler, and was quite able to take care of herself. She also wanted to marry for love, or at least not to marry the brute that she was given to.

Steven figured she would be five foot nothing tall when full grown in a year or so. Initially her exposed skin was sunburned, but she got over this over the next week, and had a deep farmer tan. The rest of her skin was pale, by local standards. She had plain features, with sharp dark brown eyes, and kept her medium length hair tied in a tail behind with a leather thong. To Steven’s surprise, once she had her strength back, she was almost as strong as he was.

*          *          *

On part of the palace roof next to the catch basin for a water tank, Rox found a private area to do some sunbathing. The Sorceress found Rox there at lunchtime the day after taking all the magic off of her.

“What are you doing up here, Student?”

Rox looked up. “I am trying to get some color back into my skin. Since you removed that spell, I have been pasty white.”

The Sorceress looked her over, and looked around even looking up. Then took the spare blanket and laid it out, removed her dress and folded it into a pillow and lay down a short distance from Rox.

Rox settled her head back. “What are you doing here, My Lady?”

“I’m hiding out from messengers from The King.”

After a few moments, Roxanne began asking about The King and his harem. Both women were naked lying on blankets; the Sorceress out of curiosity, Rox to try to get some color back into her now very pale skin. Rox remembered about the butt-naked pictures as they talked, but did not mention it.

The Queen and The Sorceress were friends as children, until schooling took them in different directions. Then when The Queen was married, it was a political marriage. The King and Queen did come to love each other, after a manner, but at that time neither was fully committed to the intimacies of the relationship. Soon, The King’s eye began to wander. The Queen being an excellent administrator was quick to see that this matter was taken in hand, before things got out of control. She contacted her old friend, The Sorceress, and after some bargaining, appointed her head of the harem, by appointment of The King.

The two fold problem then came that he did not return to a sexual partner once he took a new one; and The Queen had not provided an heir. The Sorceress had been made a landed Duchess, and each of the concubines was made an unlanded Countess, and a few had been put aside and cared for once pregnant, but as yet, there was no Prince to assume the throne.

Also The Queen was feeling lonely in her position. He can bed a woman anytime he wants, but she has slept alone for many years. Because of her position, she cannot take another man to her bed.

At this moment The Queen was on the last of a diplomatic trip, and The King was about ready to trade up.

Roxanne thought a moment “Why not just withdraw the harem, leaving him with just The Queen to bed?”

“We can’t do that. He would strip us of our living and our support. Even now I am the only one with land, and it’s so far away I can’t go prove it without permanently leaving the palace.” The Sorceress bristled slightly at Roxanne’s familiarity, omitting her honorific.

“So get all of his concubines on your side first. Then get his most loyal and trusted cabinet members on your side, and approach him. But you will also need The Queen on your side. Tell him that this is State Business. That he must have an heir by The Queen.” Rox continued, not even thinking about honorific titles. To her this was woman to woman.

“But….”

“But what?”

“Nobody has ever stood up to him like this.”

“So prepare him carefully, and then stand up to him.”

“He does not like children.”

Roxanne remembered this argument from the early part of her own marriage. “Let me guess. ‘They are sloppy, noisy, smelly, and inconvenient.’”

“That’s about it.” The Sorceress had to pause to remember this was a mother of two who was telling her this.

“Steven was the same way. Until I was showing with Diana.” Rox’s hands hovered over her belly for a moment. “Is The Queen prohibited from entering his presence?”

“No…” The Sorceress was beginning to understand.

“As Steven watched the pregnancy progress he became more solicitous. Then when Diana was born he slowly became a doting father. He soon took over the late night feedings. Just enjoying holding his daughter. Steven’s only disappointment with Diana was that she was not a son. Once Alex was born, he mellowed even more.”

Rox continued. “So take and withdraw the harem, leaving him only The Queen. And encourage them to be husband and wife, rather than just King and Queen. And have him be part of the pregnancy.”

“And if she is infertile?”

“You will figure something out. Unless I miss my observation, you really are not that much older than I am. I guess that The Queen is about your same age. At least on my world, women our age are still able to get pregnant.” Rox shook her head. She had enough confidence from the few weeks she had been here that she figured The Sorceress, and The Queen, would figure something out.

“I suppose I better start by circulating the idea that an heir better soon come, if it is to be trained while The King is young enough to train one. Then build from there… Yes, it can be done. Carefully.” The Sorceress’s thought drifted to what for her was an otherwise tedious subject: politics.

*          *          *

They were two days down the trail. Abey was rapidly regaining strength. Her body had not rejected any food, but was very dehydrated and starting toward malnourishment. With the steady intake of water and food she was returning to normal. Already her features were softening and filling back out; and she was soundly sleeping. Until she could walk, she rode in the travois that had been made. Steven had substituted her bedroll for his, covering her with a homespun cloak sent with her, as he dragged her along. Caspian had helped Steven rig a usable carry harness from some cord that Steven had in his bag.

Abey had changed to a homespun long sleeve shirt, and a leather vest cut utilitarian-generous. She also changed to a woolen skirt, from the homespun trousers. She kept her medium high leather boot moccasins. Her leather belt now had a few pouches and things tied to it, including the utility knife. She also had her rucksack and shoulder bag, and a water skin which had been with the food in the shoulder bag. Among all this are a few heirlooms from her mother.

This third day she had been lucid when she awoke, and alert most of the time, but still too weak to move far under her own power, mostly to where she could relieve herself without embarrassing the two men she now kept company with. Now Abey was sitting up on her own, the travois leaning against a nearby tree. Steven and Caspian were setting up camp. She was unabashedly telling her own story, as they worked. Abey was also rummaging through one of her two sacks, taking stock, and clearly irritated not to be finding something.

Abey moved the things inside the sack around. “I would just as soon the dirty skut run me through, as get between my legs.”

“Then you don’t like the man?” Steven was cutting down a branch for the fire, adding to a growing pile.

Abey stopped at this, and put her bag down off her lap. “Calling him a man is being generous. More than he disserves. On his farm, the men are proud, and the animals are nervous. The scum had at every unmarried girl in town. The greedy wretch wouldn’t consider marrying any of them. Their dowries weren’t large enough. I was one of the few who would stand up to him in his advances. Finally he pestered my father enough, and got the dowry raised up enough to arrange to get me. But I would not have him. So I was put out where you found me. Every time he came to help or release me, I would fight him off, or get loose and return. Better to die tied to a stake, than go to his bed.”

Steven remembered a few men like that from when he had been in the Corps. Most of them had been run out. The rest reformed and shaped up. A few of these had been beat into shape, a time or two.

Caspian brought in one more branch to be cut down, and had two critters in hand to cook for dinner. The branch was put by the pile, and Caspian sat down opposite Steven. He had eviscerated the critters elsewhere. So all he did here was quickly and efficiently skin them, and put them on some branches over the fire to roast.

Steven had arranged the fire ring with stones around a shallow bowl in the ground, and two branches set up to hold the food. The dirt was set aside to be used to cover the fire pit before they left.

Abey finished her inventory, and seemed to give a resigned shrug as her bags were put away. She then began to braid her hair on her left side into small, tight braids that started at her side burns.

The next day Abey walked on her own, through lunch time. She continued to work at making tiny braids in her left side hair until she had six in front of her ear. They did not cover much ground, due to her weakness, but she was determined to haul her own weight. Steven carried her shoulder bag and Caspian her rucksack. As they ate, and she rested, they considered whether to try to go on carrying her somehow. They tried this for a while, Steven carrying Abey on his back, Caspian carrying her bags. Steven decided that she was not a lot bigger than Diana or Alex, for being as old as the two combined. He carried her for a few miles, but it wore too hard on Steven, and they soon stopped for the day.

As Abey got her strength back, she helped as she could. She could skin and clean critters and birds faster than Caspian, doing a better job in the process. She was able to direct them around a part of the area that saved them a day of retracing their steps due to a destroyed section of trail.

Abey also began to repair Steven’s things, while they were not moving. First, she repaired a tear in his spare trousers, fixing his sewing. She darned his spare socks, after washing them. She also rebuilt his sword scabbard in less time than he had needed to put it together the first time. Steven soon found her to be overly ingratiating, and annoyingly subservient.

033 - Learning Local Customs

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 18

Now this was unexpected.

Five days after picking her up, she completely surprised Steven. Caspian was out hunting when it happened. Steven was lounging on his bedroll, idly burning a long twig in the fire. Then he looked up.

Abey stood before Steven, opening her vest and shirt, in process of undressing.

“What’s this?” Steven sprung up from reclining on his bed.

“I am strong enough now. I offer myself to you, to do as you will.” She dropped her vest and shirt on the pile of stuff, leaving just a strip of fabric tied around her chest, showing her to have the classic farmer tan. Abey then began untying her skirt.

“Stop. I do not understand.” Steven grabbed her wrists, and pulled them up, and looked at her face. His expression a swirl of confusion, hers likewise.

Her skirt fell from her waist to her hips. She looked up at him, towering head and shoulders above her, holding her wrist at the level of her shoulders. His hands were clenched to restrain her arms, she could feel a lot of pent up power in them.

“Well, you have been an honorable man, and care well for me. This is customary, when a servant has nothing else to give in payment of debt. Would not this be acceptable? Am I not desirable?”

Steven was not versed in the facial expressions and behavioral moors of Tywacomb, but could understand bafflement when he heard it, even in a language he had spoken for less than three weeks.

“No. Desirability is not the issue. It will not be acceptable. I am sworn to another woman, whom I passionately love. Who has born me two children. For me to do this with you is to betray her. This I will not do. Also it would not be wholly decent, as you are nearly young enough to be my daughter.”

Steven let go of her wrists, and stepped back. He then reached down and picked her shirt back up and held it out as she readjusted her skirt back to place.

She took the shirt, and put it back on. As she moved, she looked to be as well built as Roxanne, and work hardened to boot. Steven felt like a scoundrel for watching, and turned away.

“You speak of payment. Why? I do not feel that you owe anything. The food was provided by your mother, and the rest along the way.”

Abey smoothed her shirt, and went back around the fire, secured her girdle at her waist, and sat down on the log there. She watched him a moment, as he sat back onto his bed roll.

“Until I repay you for your efforts in caring for me, I am in bond to you. I know that you are a stranger to this area, but…” She paused a moment in thought. “I guess I presumed too much from your ministrations. I am sorry to have offended.”

“No. You haven’t offended. Surprised. But not offended. I suppose you should be told what is going on.”

Caspian walked up, with a freshly cleaned critter in his hand, and a sated Cyrril on his shoulders. “A good idea.”

They both looked up at him, and watched as he impaled the critter on a branch, and started it cooking over the fire.

“Shall I go first, or will you?” Steven asked.

“You start. I will fill in the holes.” Caspian unwound Cyrril, and put him on the ground by the fire.

So Steven began telling all he knew. Caspian filled in little. He told of the Elves sending Caspian. Of being from another world, and having his children and wife kidnapped. Of meeting Caspian and coming to Tywacomb. Of Caspian casting his spell to locate Roxanne in the capitol of this kingdom.

“And as we came through, we found you. I picked you up, seeking to get you help, and have ended up providing it.”

Abey interjected at this point. “No wonder you know so little of local ways. I knew you a stranger. But had not begun to guess by how much.”

“You believe I am from another world,” Steven asked.

“How could you not be,” Abey replied. “Only elves are as tall as you. And they are rumored to travel to other worlds among the stars.”

“On my world, mostly those thought deranged openly declare a rational belief in people on other worlds.” Steven pushed the last of the stick into the fire.

“Well, I am not deranged. So you are questing to retrieve your wife, and then your children?” Abey smirked.

Caspian answered. “Yes we are.”

“I will help, as best as I can.”

“Fine. Just keep your shirt on.” Steven answered, with a hint of laughter in his voice.

She just blushed a bit, as Caspian looked from one to the other in curiosity.

The three camped on the shore of a lake Abey had led them to. They were at the end of their first week together. The three were now spaced out along the beach. Steven was vaguely wondering about how Abey was going to handle her monthly cycle; more from a strategic and logistic point of view than anything else. He almost wondered how Rox would once they picked her up, and then remembered she would not have to.

Steven was trying not to watch Abey, but with his own clothes hanging on the trees to dry, there was little to do. Caspian was farther down the shore the other direction, had arrayed his things to dry after washing them, then waded back in to the water, and evidently went for a swim.

Abey was in the other direction. She seemed to delight in flirting with Steven, the last two days. Right now she was close enough that he could see she was naked, and up to her hips in the water, washing her own clothes and gear. She left the water, and disappeared into the scrub for a few moments.

Steven turned his back, feeling even more the scoundrel for watching even from this distance.

She was suddenly behind him, giggling. “Was I interesting to watch?”

“I’m a married man, and not to you.”

“I know. But was I interesting?” She put her hands on his shoulders, and startled him a bit, while teasing him.

“Some what, yes. But if my wife thinks it was anything more, she will have my hide.”

The hands massaged a bit, trying to loosen his neck and shoulders. “And what of mine?”

He could feel the strength in her hands, as they worked. “She will not stop with your hide. Roxanne will pull your lungs out.”

“Well, I like breathing. So I will not anger her.” Abey patted his shoulders, and disappeared. Her giggle following after her.

Steven felt frustrated, and a bit ashamed. He knew he had not done anything explicitly wrong. But still he felt he had. He grabbed a pair of boxers, and pulled it on as he went down to the water to swim.

The day they left the lake, the three travelers moved up into the foothills of the last mountain range before starting to descend to the coastal planes.

Steven was feeling fine, having acclimated to the environment. He stopped to take pictures occasionally. He had gone through most of one 36-frame roll by this time.

Abey was recovered and holding her own now. She contributed her share to their needs with a borrowed sling, and skill with her knife. She also knew the area better than Caspian could have hoped. She only had the one spare change of clothes that compressed neatly into her backpack, which she wore. A blanket was also carried in it.

Caspian just kept the pace as best he could. They were moving a bit faster now than the previous week. His tracker for Rox held steady, so they followed it, following roads and game trails, mostly in as straight a line he could, ignoring the terrain.

Steven noticed that as the day progressed Abey and Caspian became progressively more alert, and Abey more excited. At dinner he asked what was going on.

Caspian answered first. “Remember that rock marker I pointed out this morning?”

“Yes.”

“We have entered a potentially dangerous region.”

Abey interrupted. “That’s an understatement. These people barely recognize The King’s claim, let alone the local Duke.”

She stopped to let Caspian continue, but he motioned for her to carry on.

“If any of the locals catch you, you become the evening’s entertainment; and occasionally dinner.”

“Cannibals?”

“No,” Abey shook her head, in mild disgust. “Beast fighting. To them, it is a way to prove valor. If you win, you are free to go the next morning.”

Steven finished the thought. “If you loose, you’re the beast’s dinner. How do we avoid this?”

“By not getting caught, or by traveling in a large caravan,” she answered.

“How far across?”

“Two or three days. Once we crest the mountain summits, they won’t bother us.”

They did not have that long to wait. Though they did not know it, the next two nights their fire was spotted.

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 25

Some of the locals are really strange. I would hate to get in a fight with them.

Breakfast was finished with a picket of spears surrounding them. Twelve men and seven women stood around, wearing tanned leathers and painted faces.

One of the men addressed them in a language that Steven did not comprehend. Caspian was about to answer when Abey spoke first. A rapid fire exchange of words and the spears turned to form a closed circle; no longer threatening, but not allowing them to leave either.

“He says that we will go with them willingly, or be buried here.” Abey shrugged, and packed her bag.

Caspian and Steven followed suite.

The three shouldered their loads, and a square formed around them, and conducted them in a direction away from the main trail. The group moved quickly along, and was soon on a trail that developed into another main trail for the area. The natives ate as they moved, and allowed the three to do the same.

The natives all wore the same basic costume. Steven’s first though about their costumes when he had noticed them stand around then was of Ghillie Suits that snipers wear. They had tanned leather boots, spun cloth britches, leather tunic or singlet and belt, and a poncho or smock. Strips of cloth, small branches, chunks of native grasses, leaves and so forth were attached to the clothes of all of the locals in various degrees. They also had a few decorative items, with much of the jewelry being of claws and teeth. Also their minimally exposed skin was painted in reds and browns, similar to the ground of the area. They all had tight braids in a short row, starting at their left sideburn going back toward the ear. Various bits of stuff were braided in these. The men’s hair was otherwise very short, the women’s only a bit longer. The overall look was of shambling creatures.

Again Steven was taller, but these people were short enough in general that Steven towered over them. If not for their spears, and other glimpsed weapons, he might have though they were children.