040 – Local Bullies

Late that morning after completing her chores, Rox paged through one bound volume of The Sorceress’s books, looking for a set of characters that matched a set on a piece of paper that had been left for her. Rox recognized it as an alphabet instead of pictograms, and thought this was very helpful. That The Sorceress had said her index was chronological instead of alphabetic was not. After an hour of looking, she finally found the set of characters, and set the book aside, slipping the paper into its pages with the end sticking out. Rox left the work room, to prepair for lunch.

As she walked the hall, Linell was dragged into the wing by the Page Master, as the stewards showed up for lunch.

He was an average sized man, of no build whatsoever. Rox was glad no one here seamed to know what a comb-over was, or this man might have one over the top of his bald head. She was annoyed that he seemed to look straight ahead at her breasts as he spoke at her. He kept one hand fastened around Linell’s wrist.

“Linell tells me you are teaching her to fight.” His higher pitched voice fit Rox’s already formed stereotype of the man. He reminded her of Diana’s math teacher

Rox smiled. “Yes, I am. Where I am from I teach this to many children her age.”

“Do you teach then to pick fights and start brawls?” His clipped tone amused Rox.

“No. I teach then to avoid them when they can; win them when they can’t; and stand up to the bully while protecting the less able.” Rox kept herself as conversational as she could.

She looked at Linell. Her knuckles on her hands were raw, and one was bleeding. She had food smeared on her uniform, and some in her hair.

“Has Linell been in another fight? Was it the same bully or some of his thug cronies?”

The Page Master tried to puff himself up, the volume of his voice rising as well. “None of My Pages are thugs.”

Roxanne did not know the full power structure or arrangement of things in this palace. Nor did she really know how much trouble she was or was not causing by teaching Linell. But she did know that bullies were a fact of life, in whatever form, and that she would always stand up to them, and help others to do the same.

“Of course not. Children are never that way, unless taught to be aggressive, are they?”

He started to get more upset. “That is not your concern, or the issue. You will stop teaching Linell how to beat up on the others.”

“She is not teaching Linell to beat up on the other Pages.” A new voice did the equivalent of throwing a bucket of ice water on the Page Master. He turned suddenly.

Roxanne turned to the doors of the wing. The Sorceress stood there flanked by two of the Palace guard.

“My Lady.” Rox said in greeting.

The Sorceress strode forward with four other pages, all young boys, in tow behind her.

“Mistress Harem,” the Page Master squeaked out, surprised to see her here.

The Sorceress strode forward. “Master Page.”

Rox realized that The Sorceress was taller than the man.

The Sorceress looked Linell over, as she stopped, placing the Page Master in the middle between herself and Rox. Linell smiled the uncomfortable smile of one hoping a champion has just arrived.

“Master Page, you wish for my apprentice to stop teaching young Linell to defend herself from bullies?” Her tones were of one asking a simple question to a child.

“Yes. This girl had been in two brawls in as many days and …”

The Sorceress interrupted him. “Did she win?”

“Two other pages have needed healing…”

“Did she start these fights, or were they in response to bullying?”

“As far as I am concerned, she started them, and now…”

“I see.” She stopped his rant before it could get up steam. “And your side of the story, young lady?” The Sorceress looked at Linell, dismissing the Page Master to silence.

“Three of Toby’s friends tried to attack me with their lunch plates. I kicked one in the knee, then slugged the next, and hit the third in the face.” Linell slightly smiled.

The Sorceress stood slightly taller. “Master Page, this is not the first complaint against Toby that has come to our attention. Does this need further attention from The Court, or will you be dismissing him yourself?”

The Page Master stuck his lower lip out in frustration, and clenched his jaw. Then finally he spat out some words.

“As you wish.” He started to stomp out, dragging Linell roughly.

The Sorceress stopped the Page Master with her voice again. “Master Page, Linell stays. There is need of her here, now.”

He threw her wrist out of his grip and stomped away. The four pages behind the Sorceress scattered out of his way. The Sorceress turned a stern eye on them.

“Not one word of gossip, or I will have it out of your hides, boys.”

They all looked at her smiling. Collective “Yes, Ma’am’s” were followed by the four young pages scattering into the palace.

The Sorceress took a breath and blew it out. “I’m going to hear about this later.”

She took Linell in tow. “Apprentice, let's get this young lady patched up and fed.”

Roxanne performed some healing magic on Linell, under The Sorceress’s guidance. The Sorceress turned this into a lesson on healing magic. Her hand was closed up with the two dislocated fingers reset. The black eye was accelerated in its healing, as was her bruised foot.

Linell joined them for lunch, and was as formal as The Sorceress in her manors. As they talked over lunch, it came out that Toby was the Page Master’s nephew, and had become a careless trouble maker who had been shielded by the Master. As for the three cronies, two could be reformed once Toby was away, and the third was wanted by the Army.

*          *          *

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 41

Finally, some proof we are going the right way.

On entering the city the three first took their hides and leftover meat to the proper merchants and sold them for a tidy sum. After cleaning up in a public bath, they decided to split up and do their shopping separately. Abey went after food and other provisions. Caspian would take Steven and show him some better quality weapons, also more expensive. Also to see whether there was anything else for him to change out of his costume.

At one stall Steven found a weapon smith, and a larger crossbow. After some bartering and haggling Steven was able to trade up to the better crossbow. This one was closer to a size that fit Steven’s frame.

As Steven walked away, he realized that the purse he had carried on his belt was now missing. A quarter of his local money was gone that fast. Steven quickly shook himself briefly, taking stock of the weights in his coat and on his back, then turned and stepped to Caspian at another booth, in irritation. Steven stopped and stood by Caspian.

“I’ve just been robbed. My purse is gone.” Steven kept his tone as conversational as he could.

Caspian nodded. “Right, lets get out of the way and check over the rest to see if anything else is.”

The two men moved through the throng and into a café, then around the side of the porch between buildings. Steven put his crossbow onto the table, and then he unbuckled his backpack straps and swung it off. Next was his coat. Steven looked through the bag, and nothing was missing. Then he went through the coat, and there was nothing missing from it. He patted his belt down and nothing else was missing.

“Anything besides the one purse missing?” Caspian looked around, and did his best to block out prying eyes.

“No. Just the one purse. All the rest is still here.” Steven picked the coat back up and put it on, and settled it. Then he put the bag back on, and settled it.

“Well, teach me to leave my money visible,” Steven remarked dryly, as he shouldered his new crossbow.

They walked out into the street, and continued their shopping. A light misty rain swept past, as the afternoon moved on. Caspian and Steven were in a minor hurry to meet Abey at the town gate. She had volunteered to get the food, as she found Caspian’s cooking passable, and Steven’s just too rough.

As they crossed a market, they passed a few wagons, with a cage attached to one. Caspian just kept going past the group. Steven glanced, and almost came to a stop, staring at the locked cage with five naked people. He took a few steps farther and saw some rings and other things on a merchandise table. One of the rings glinted and caught his eye, causing a double take. He stopped, and took a closer look. The two platinum bands, one with a medium sized diamond set low into the band, the other matching snug against it.

“Wait a moment,” Steven muttered.

A man stepped up to Steven’s side, as he picked up the rings and turned them over. There was that one rub mark…

“Can I help you?” the voice from his left said.

Steven turned to face a well dressed man. He was about Steven’s comparative build and almost his height, with thick dark hair graying at the roots, and tied into a tail. On his belt he had a small purse, a ring of keys, and a knife. Steven quickly understood what this man’s employ was, and found himself offended by this man, and the idea of a slave trade.

Caspian stopped short, realizing that Steven had stopped. He turned around as his magic senses blazed telling him something important was about to happen. They rarely did this: Caspian’s talents were more of the artistic and technical magic’s; he could sense when things had been used for magic, or been the target of it; people casting magic within a certain scope of distance always got his attention, and so forth. Precognition and its related fields were not usually in his scope, though like all practitioners, he was subject to particularly strong happenings. This was one.

Caspian approached and reappraised the arrangement of the situation. The trader had three carts in a row; the one on the far left as they were faced had the slave pen attached to it. On the other end was one with a merchandise table. Caspian guessed that, as he had not seen any other slavers in this city, this must be the only slaver in the area. Therefore this was the most likely person for the bad guys to have sold Roxanne to, had that been the actual disposition of her.

Steven had some rings in his hand looking them over then looked up, as a man of reasonable size with a salt-and-pepper ponytail and mustache, and rough looks, stood to his left.

“Yes.” Steven held the rings out in his palm. “Where did you get this?”

“Why do you ask?” He moved to take it back, but Steven closed his hand to prevent this.

“Because it is my wife’s wedding ring.”

Caspian took hold of Steven’s arm, and turned him from the merchant, to face him. Caspian addressed Steven in English. “Give me the rings. I will take care of this. Get out of here.”

“But,” Steven started to protest.

“But nothing. You will cause a scene we don’t need. Trust me. Give me the rings.” Caspian held his hand out, still holding Steven’s arm with the other. He spoke evenly, but his countenance had visibly hardened. Cyrril had reared up from his lounging, and fanned his wings a bit, hissing in agitation.

Steven looked at Caspian, and back at the merchant. Then put the rings in Caspian’s hand and scowled. “I want these back where they belong.”

Steven stalked away, carrying a cloud of anger with him.

Caspian put the rings down on the board with the rest, and Cyrril dropped down to crouch on the board and held on to the rings.

Caspian waited for Steven to be out of earshot. He then turned to the merchant.

“How much for the rings?”

The merchant’s eyes twinkled a moment, as he sized up Caspian and also Steven’s reaction. “How much are you willing to pay?”

Caspian glanced briefly around again. Then lunged at the man, grasped him under his jaw with his left hand, and pinned him against his cart, his toes off the ground. The man’s hands went to Caspian’s hand, trying to pry it loose. Caspian finished his muttering of a spell feeling energy flow from his staff, and across the man as he spoke.

“I will pay you your life, your livelihood, and fair market value for the set of rings. Is that agreeable?”

The man pried at Caspian’s hand a bit more, gurgling a bit, so Caspian thumped him against the cart once.

“I asked if that was agreeable!”

The man looked like he wanted to snarl a bit, but couldn’t say anything. Caspian knew that he had not yet won the bargain so he continued to hold the man.

“I can keep this up for some time. All you need to do is say ‘yes’.” Caspian’s staff turned to point under his left arm at the man’s wife who was approaching from around the wagon.

--Stand there, ma’am. And be silent-- Caspian said this in Elfish. Then changed back to the local language. “Your husband and I are bargaining.”

She froze in her tracks, unsure of the situation, but wanting to help her husband. However, she found that she could not use her legs, or her mouth.

Caspian turned back to the man. “What is fair market value of that set of rings?”

The man struggled a bit, and then seemed to give in. “Fifteen in gold.” He still tried to pry at Caspian’s hand to no avail. But Caspian was not trying to choke him. Just hold him there.

“All right. I will give you sixteen in gold for the rings.”

At that, Cyrril took the two rings, and flew away.

“Now. Tell me what you did with the woman you took them from.”

The man gurgled a bit more, as he tried to get Caspian to let go.

“It’s no use trying to lie, or get me to let go. Just tell me what I want, and I will be on my way.”

“There have been several women.”

“Yes. But you would remember this one. She would be very tall, and slender. Almost half-elven in features and frame. About four or five weeks ago.”

The man struggled a bit within himself. Caspian noticed his wife thinking a bit, and then nodding at her husband. The man spoke again, sounding a bit strained at having a hand at his throat. “She was given in tax. To cross the boarder.”

Caspian plopped the man down to his feet, and let go, and stood his staff up, releasing the woman.

“Thank you.” He then reached into his purse, and pulled out a handful of gold coins. He counted and dropped these into the board that the rings and trinkets were on.

“Eighteen, for your services.” Caspian then walked away as casually quick as he could.

041 – Explanations And Interludes

Steven stood watching from across the street and part of the block down. As soon as Caspian grabbed the man, he gaped a bit. “And he didn’t want me to cause a scene.”

Steven watched as the man’s wife came around the end of the wagon from whatever she had been doing, and Caspian’s staff turned to point at her all but automatically. Then Cyrril leapt from the board, where he had dropped to from Caspian’s shoulder, and came flying over to him. Steven put his arm out, as you would to catch a bird, and Cyrril swooped up to it, and crawled around to Steven’s shoulders. He had the rings in his teeth, and dropped these into Steven’s proffered hand.

“Thank you,” Steven replied, with a bit of a lump in his throat. He then took some of the cord he had, and tied it into a loop, through the rings. This was put around his neck, and under his shirt.

Caspian walked up as he finished. “Well, that confirms things.” Cyrril moved to Caspian’s shoulders.

“And you were afraid I was going to cause a scene.” Steven fell into step as they continued to the town gate.

“Thumping someone for information will get noticed. With a proper bit of applied magic, only those looking for you will notice.”

“Well, either you are stronger than I think, or you were using magic on him as well.”

“Two spells. One to reduce his effective mass, making him light as a feather and just as strong. The other to prevent him from lying, so long as I was touching him.” Caspian said these with some strong distaste.

“You don’t like using them.”

“They are white magic. But not very glowing, if you take my meaning.”

Steven remembered some things from his military past. “I think I do.”

“‘You think you do’ what?” Abey chimed in unexpectedly.

They turned as Abey approached, leading a laden mule. She had partially reoutfitted herself, as well as getting provisions for their trip.

“Oh, just talking about distasteful jobs,” Steven dismissed the conversation.

“Ah. Well, unless you need something else from here, I vote we leave.” Abey led her mule forward.

The men smiled at her, and Steven motioned with his hand. “Lead on.”

Cyrril glided over to the mule’s pack, and spent the next hour picking through it, and crawling around on the beast’s mane and withers. It tossed its head a bit, and shook itself good once to shake Cyrril off. After which, they more or less ignored each other.

As they walked out of the gate, Caspian asked Steven a question.

“Why did you walk away so easily? I half expected you to round on me, over this.”

Steven smiled. “Well, in the last few weeks, I have figured out how to reliably read you.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that Cyrril echo’s and amplifies your mood. You’ve stood to bargain with some that you appeared to want to kill in the first two places we stopped, but Cyrril was as quiet as if asleep. When we picked her up,” Steven motioned ahead of them, “though you sent Cyrril to go find her parents, he also seemed to be bored with utter lack of concern. You, knowing the culture, knew that all was well, and not your problem.”

Caspian had been told this before, about his and other’s links to familiars. He was amused that Steven had picked up on it, not knowing any other magic users.

“And this time?” Caspian was curious.

“Cyrril was very agitated. He doesn’t usually fan like that unless he is ready to kill something in a fight. So you must have been very upset.”

“I don’t like slavers.”

Caspian, Steven and Abey stopped in the woods, and sat around by a small fire, talking.

“Steven, you have told me who you believe you are, and what you perceive needs to be done. So, what are you willing to do?” Caspian leaned against a tree.

“What do you mean?”

“”What are you willing to do? Are you willing to try new things, to think in different ways? To behave in ways you have never tried to before? To do things that if you took time to think about you would dismiss as stupid, or out of character?”

Steven took this all in. His first impulse was that of every man, to blurt out with his pride and say that of course he would. Then to shrink from the new in favor of the comfortable. But he might as well shrink from himself. Instead he examined and carried forth these ideas.

Try new things. New approaches. New behaviors. At behaviors he found an impassable line. He would not behave immorally.

Things that appeared ridiculous. There was a definite advantage in that. Most people tended to discount the ridiculous, the childish.

The more Steven turned these ideas over and compared them to his situation, and growing perception of himself, the more he found then to be acceptable. He looked from the fire to the pile of sticks. He scooped up a few, and put them on the coals. They quickly lit.

Steven looked at Caspian. “Yes. I am willing to do whatever it takes; to try the new, to do the ridiculous. But not the suicidal or the immoral.”

Caspian gave Steven the look that men give to equals. He was finished helping Steven adapt. Now to retrieve Roxanne, and help her.

Up to this point Caspian had mostly been traveling as straight line as he could, following established roads as necessary, game trails when possible. With Steven he had started on the west slope of one mountain range, crossed through two more small mountain ranges and the lands between them, and now came onto the upper costal plain, that had some mountains and hills between them and the coast. The small city they had just left was part of a network of such cities that divided and ruled The Kingdom.

As near as Caspian could recall, in this kingdom the road systems were laid out with the capitol at the hub, there were two levels of rings of cities, each with their local ruling nobility that owed fealty to The King. However thanks to geography this only worked as a diagram. The Kingdom went from the coast to this range behind them, from a bay on the north to a river on the south. It was several days travel across, in any direction, and longer from north to south.

As they left this city, Caspian took them onto the main trade road that would take them most directly into the Capitol city. This actually led south initially.

That stopped for the night in a place that Steven would have called a truck stop.

There were organized camp grounds large enough to turn a wagon team around in. A large fenced field nearby contained several heads of various stock, and a train of six wagons were parked on one side of the camp.

Abey led them into one of the campgrounds, unloaded her mule and then turned it loose in the stock yard. It had been a long day spending the morning in the markets of the city, and then walking to here. To Caspian’s surprise, Abey had a small tent that she set up for herself from her stores.

Steven helped set up a small dutch oven for dinner, using some vegetables and fresh killed meat. In a second dutch oven Abey prepared some bread. Caspian prepared the fire in the pit for this camp.

Steven cut up some vegetables, and started talking. “How much of this did you get?”

Abey mixed the dough by hand, having first cleaned her hands as best she could. “I asked how long the road was to the capitol, and went from there. I figure I have enough to get us there, so long as we don’t splurge. Besides, I have been missing bread with my dinner.”

As they sat around and waited for the bread and roast to cook, Steven started on a line of questioning he had been wanting to ask, and not yet been getting around to.

“Caspian. We’ve been together for about six weeks, but I know almost nothing about you. So who are you and where are you from?”

Caspian sat on a log watching nothing, his staff between his knees and over his shoulder. Cyrril was off somewhere.

“Well, I am the only child of my parents, born in the seventh year of the reign of Sharius of Silvona. My mother is a Mage, born to a merchant’s family, so I have several cousins on that side. My father is a Wizard, born to a family of magic users and vagabonds, so there is no real idea who all is related in that direction; he currently sits as a second to the head of his School in the School of the Orders.”

Steven interrupted. “What is The School of the Orders?”

Caspian thought a moment. “It is the governing body that loosely sets the rules of behavior for human magic users on this planet. The school divides magic into eight general schools of application: dealing with oaths, and summoning or releasing things; conjuring things, and putting them together or taking them apart; information gathering or diffusing it; empowering or disempowering things; energy manipulation and mass-energy exchanges; physical transformations of mass; creating and dispelling images; and dealing with the dead, and giving the illusion of life. There are several sub-schools to these general categories. My talents run across the board, so I am a general practitioner, and use the title of Mage, when I bother to use one.”

Caspian continued. “I went to boarding school as a teen and got my training then. I have been to several different worlds; on one I acquired Cyrril by accident. He is a juvenile of his species, and not expected to reach full growth for another twenty or more local years. As part of the conclusion of my schooling, I spent two of your years on Steven’s home world, mostly learning about chemistry and physics.”

Caspian stopped and let go of the dissertation, evidently not interested in telling stories about himself.

Abey was curious about one thing, asking as she checked the dinner. “Are there any women you have ever been interested in?”

Caspian glanced at Abey and Steven in turn. “Not really. There were a few in school, but they were more interested in other guys. I spent near ten years after school wandering the length and breadth of this planet. Never met anybody who was interested in coming with. A few years back I purchased the farm and some adjoining land in Silvona, and settled down to learning to work it. Now that I think about it, I think I was happier working that farm and interacting with my neighbors and their kids, than I was wandering the sixty plus kingdoms of this land. As far as getting married, I suppose I am hoping for the Great Atoner to send the right woman to me, since I have not been able to find and recognize her.”

Caspian closed this line of questioning, looking up at the meat and vegetables in the dutch oven Abey was tending. “That smells like it is done.”

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.

043 – Unanswered Questions, Unquestioned Answers

While traveling with this group, Caspian and Steven put together what the trouble was with the other one.

“I think that last group was actually an army in disguise.” Caspian said it first, as Steven thought it.

Abey looked puzzled. “Why is that?”

“Because they looked like this group. But already having a mission.” Caspian surprised Steven in that line of thought.

Steven looked around. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that this trading company is the Mountain Wolf Trading Company.”

Abey interrupted, adding her own realization. “Who are also the Marauding Wolf Mercenary’s. I had forgotten that.”

“Right. But these guys, aren’t going to a fight,” Caspian looked at the camp around them. “They are here on legitimate business. They have too much cargo for otherwise, including those small herds of sheep and cows.”

Steven finally put it all together. “But the other company was going on a march; and heading toward the capitol. Veradale.”

Abey stopped listening, as the two men continued.

“Right. They were under too much discipline and not carrying enough merchandise to be more than a cover. I just wonder who is behind this.” Caspian scratched on the ground with his staff.

“Should The King be warned? I get the impression that he is generally doing a good job.” Steven turned the steak over in the borrowed fry pan and checked it for how cooked it was.

“He should be, if they march against him. Sending small armies as merchants is an old ploy, just for reconnaissance most of the time.” Caspian waited for the bread in the dutch oven under the stew.

“That was not a recon-force. Now that I think about them, they looked like a light assault force.” Steven pulled the steak off and started to cut it up for dipping in his stew.

A new voice joined the conversation. “You still have not answered the question, wizard. Should The King be warned?” One of the wagon masters entered the light of their campfire. “May I share your fire?”

Steven and Caspian both looked up. Abey looked across the fire, and appraised the man briefly. He looked to be halfway between Abey and Caspian in height. He wore road-dusty home spun, and a leather tunic with a girdle at the waist. Several pouches and a knife hung from the girdle.

Caspian motioned. “Please sit.”

Abey blurted out “You’re the Marauding Wolves, aren’t you.”

The man cocked his head, in good humor, as he sat on the log. “And if we are?”

Caspian answered. “The King could use your help. You know of a potentially hostile group. As mercenaries, I suppose you have no stake in the matter. But as decent men, you owe it to justice to at least warn him.”

“You say ‘mercenaries’ like it’s a bad thing,” the wagon master poked a stick into the fire.

Steven rejoined the conversation. “I was a professional soldier for several years. Mercenaries were not always looked upon with great favor where I come from. But they can do things that standing armies can’t.”

“Hum,” the stick in the fire turned over.

Abey piped up again. “We’ve heard of the Marauding Wolves up in the Jemed Highlands.”

The man smiled a bit. “We’ve even been up in the Jemed Highlands, a time or three, and have a few in our ranks from there. And you still have unanswered questions, wizard. Who’s sending the army? Where? And should the target be warned?”

“You won’t warn the locals?” Steven asked.

“We are merchants. We don’t do much for free.” The stick ignited in the fire.

“And if this group endangers your trade?” Caspian added. He pulled the stew pot off the top of the dutch oven, then pulled the dutch oven from the coals, and put the stew pot back. He let the dutch oven cool a bit.

“We’ll see about that, and deal with it as it happens.” The man pushed the stick into the fire, breaking it in the process.

Caspian and Steven took turns explaining what they had seen in the prior caravan, and trying to convince this man to warn the locals, as his word would carry more weight than their own. Along the way, Caspian pulled the loaf of bread from the dutch oven, pulled it apart and passed it around, including giving a handful to the guest, who declined a full piece, having his own dinner elsewhere.

The man stayed good natured, but was quite attentive to Steven’s report of the disposition, and Caspian’s report of the numbers of the other caravan. In the end he stayed completely noncommittal to spreading any warning. Not that he wanted to see a fight or people hurt, but rather that he did not have any lookout for the people in the city and their police and military could fend well enough for themselves.

The weapons master approached them as they sat around mulling about after finishing eating, and began testing them for their skills. He dressed the same as the wagon master, but carried some things with him. Caspian was completely ignorant of swords but very skilled with what he did carry. Steven got a quick test on his weapon knowledge. “He’ll do” was the verdict.

He then turned to Abey. Quickly he began to teach her to use a sword using a set of practice sticks. Steven noticed that these looked the same as the sticks that the children had previously been running about with.

The man stood next to Abey, instructing. “Hold the stick with both hands. Good, but point it more forward. Where that tip is, is how close your enemy can get to you unharmed. So keep that tip as far forward as you can. Elbows bent, arms forward, relaxed. Ready, now.”

He looked at her stance, as she stood holding the prop sword, and adjusted her stance slightly here and there. He then took the other sword and faced her, crossing blades slightly.

“Now, hit me.”

Abey swung the sword back, to bring it forward with more force, and he stepped in and tapped her neck with the flat of his wood blade.

“You opened your guard.” He stepped back. “Try again.”

They started again. Abey struck his aside and stepped in. He turned his stick from the momentum, and parried her stick up, and around stepping back.

“Good. You can hold on and control it. Now let’s start at the basics. Defense. Start at neutral. Now just block me, don’t worry about anything else.”

He started slow. Swing from this side. That side. Up. Down. Thrust. He settled into a regular cadence, without developing a pattern. Abey was quickly catching all of his strikes, so he upped the cadence. Then she caught one and drove his tip into the ground.

“Enough two hand. I prefer single hand or paired knives.”

“O.k.” He changed her stick for the short sword at his belt.

Abey took it carefully, feeling it and testing its balance.

The Weapon Master held up his stick again, choked up to match her reduced length. “Same drill, try and slap me with the flat of that blade.”

As they went, Steven and Caspian watched. The man was good enough that Abey could not touch him, but she was good enough instinctively that she held her own, and ended by cutting a chunk of the stick off.

The weapon master finished his lesson, and took Abey with to talk more as he left. Caspian and Steven watched them go.

Steven sitting on the ground with his back against a log spoke first. “Do you think Abey might have just found her home?”

Caspian was digging in the coals of their slowly dying cooking fire idly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I doubt she can be of much help in retrieving my kids. As I understand that task ahead of us, once we get Rox, we have a sprint south. The fewer people to take the better. Further, you have not shown any interest in her, nor she in you.” Steven watched the stick Caspian was digging with.

Caspian did not look up. “Abey is too young for me. But I think you are right, she would be help as an extra hand, but not as an extra mouth. Her company is nice, and she has been helpful. It’s not that I don’t want her about…”

Steven picked up the hanging thought. “You are just used to working alone. I noticed in the last city, she seemed initially torn over whether to stay with us or not. But she swore to stay with until we got Rox. When we were initially with that last train, she seamed to consider whether to ask to join them.”

Caspian finished this line of thought. “She seems to be doing so again. I suppose it would be a good match.”

Journal of Steven Caplan: Day 46

You can always trust a trucker, at least as far as you can throw him.

The next morning when they started out, Abey was invited to unload Miri and tie him to a wagon’s back end, and to climb up onto the driver’s bench. The Wagon Master invited Steven to ride with him. Steven took his pack off and hung it on a peg on the side of the large wagon. The two of them sat on the bench as the draft team pulled the cart.

“Steven, Abey reports that she is in bond to you. Care to explain about this?”

Steven glanced over. He had not thought much of this in the last two weeks.

“Well, I guess Abey feels she owes me her life. She was in a bad situation and I saved her from it by picking her up and bringing her with me. Now she feels indebted to me. For myself, I am a stranger to this custom, so as far as I am worried about it, I simply did the right thing, and her gratitude is sufficient repayment.”

“So if she were to leave your company you would not be upset.” The Wagon Master idly held the reins, as the four-beast team pulled the wagon along the road.

Steven smiled and shook his head. “Not in the least bit. She has been pleasant company, but I expect to rejoin my wife in this city we are headed toward, and having Abey along might be awkward.”

“She reports that the wizard is not interested.”

“No. He is looking for someone older. Apparently there has been quite a bit of conversation about this, between her and your people. I have no issue with her going with you. She is of age and independent, as far as I am concerned.” Steven found the reins put in his hands.

“Keep them going straight. I will send someone to take over.” The Wagon Master turned and hopped off the moving wagon, and disappeared.

A boy that Steven figured was a little older than Diana soon hopped up and took the reins when Steven handed them off. Steven rode along up here for a bit. After an hour he hopped down. As the cart went past, he saw that several people walked along behind, between this and the next wagon. A woman saw Steven and motioned to one of her older sons, who went up and climbed on the front bench. Steven nodded to her and slowed his walking pace waiting for Caspian to catch up, wherever he was in the train. Abey was three wagons back, holding the reins as a girl about her age rode with her. The roads were slightly damp from a morning mist.

Finally Caspian appeared. He walked about halfway along the train. Cyrril was elsewhere. Steven fell into step.

“I think Abey is going to be leaving us once we get to the city. The Wagon Master just asked me essentially for leave to have her join. Now I need to talk with her about it. She is on the third wagon in the train, learning to drive.” Steven fell into easy cadence with Caspian’s shorter stride.

Caspian’s staff counted time as he walked. “I expect she already knows how to drive a team. I do, and I have only farmed for two years. They are probably just testing her to see how well she does.”

044 – A Day On The Road

The train did not stop for lunch. Rather, Steven saw people climb into the domestic wagons and shortly sandwiches and fruit pies were passed around. Water barrels on each wagon were open for use at any time, and refilled as often as necessary.

By lunch time, Steven had walked forward and was walking with the family whose wagon Abey was riding on. Abey swung down as it rolled, and fell into step with Steven. She looked quite pleased.

Steven handed her a sandwich of shredded meat with a fruit and nut paste that reminded Steven of chicken salad, in a roll two fists long. Abey gratefully took it and began to plow through it as if it was a missed favorite. Steven munched through his own, before finally starting to ask what was on his mind.

“Abey, do you still feel that you owe me for picking you up and bringing you along?”

She finished chewing and swallowed. “Yes, I do. In your refusal of me, you essentially set the payment as service for a time, or some monetary equivalent. But I have noticed that you do not feel constrained by this, so lately I have not tried to specifically honor it. I do feel constrained to do something, but have not really felt the time right to ask you what.”

Steven thought about this as he chewed his own bite, savoring this sandwich’s flavors. A definite positive change from the game that he and Caspian had mostly been subsisting off of between the occasional village pub and market. He swallowed.

“How much is custom? Mind you that I do not fully know the value of things as measured here, but in general; say like a half years wage for a farm hand, or something similar?”

Steven had learned what Abey looked like when thinking seriously, and saw that look now as she finished the last bite of her sandwich. He went to the next item as she considered this one.

“It appears these people are trying to recruit you, or the other way around; either way, would you like to go with them?”

Abey did not have to think about this. “If they will have me and I am free to go with, yes. For one thing it means I would not have to go back to Beowa if I don’t want to. Thanks to my summers with my grandparents I could be a good farmer or rancher’s wife, but not up there. On the other hand the last weeks with you and the wizard have been fun, if hard work. I think I can handle traveling as a way of life.”

Steven glanced around at the people they walked among. “If they are the mercenaries you think they are, are you ready to join the infantry? I don’t have a clue how much or what kind of fighting they do. But are you ready to accept, even embrace that as part of their profession?”

Abey now took a turn to instruct Steven. “These are part of the Grey Wolf Company of the Marauding Wolves, in their peace-time occupation as The Mountain Wolf Trading Company. They field three mixed-sex platoons of infantry and one of archers. The last battlefield engagement they were in, they served as reserve troops to the front line army of the king who hired them. Their side won. Before that they had spent much time, besides trading up and down the kingdoms of this coast, training local militias and guards. The last five wars they have sided on, they won. Everybody fights, or is not fielded. I expect that should I join, I would be taught in their methods of battle. As I said, a quarter of this train’s fighting forces are archers. Besides this, I already have the scars of some battles; I know what it is like to fight against something that is trying to kill me.”

Steven finished his sandwich, and touched on the last point. “I did see them up close. Do you think you really need my permission to join them? The Wagon Master approached me this morning, and it almost seamed like he was asking me for your hand in marriage.”

“Well I do feel I need to clear the debt. Once that is done, I am my own woman.”

Though she did not stand up to his shoulder, Steven felt quite impressed at Abey’s pugnacious attitude as she said this.

“Let me know what you think is an honorable amount to clear it. I will decide how much is acceptable, on top of what all you have already done. One thing you can do is teach me how to make that bread you make in the dutch oven.” Steven pulled one of his bandanas out and used it as a napkin to wipe the last crumbs and residue from his hands and face. Abey did likewise with her own rag as they walked on.

They made camp that evening on the southern outskirts of the agricultural land that directly ringed the capitol city. They were beside the southwest foot hills of a short mountain range that ran north-to-south. This range was part of a line of such ranges that stretched along a set of valleys whose west boundary was the coastal range. Veradale was situated at the north end of this range. The valley stretched off to the east and south where they had come from. North of this range was a lake that stretched further north and west, and some east.

From this distance Steven could see that Veradale had some tall towers on the planes close to the mountains, and structures climbing the hills of the north end of these mountains.

As for the mountains, Steven compared them to the Sierra Nevada, and felt these were little more than tall hills.

Abey ate dinner elsewhere as Caspian and Steven sat alone and talked.

Caspian was annoyed. “I don’t think these mercenaries are going to warn anyone about that other caravan. I had hoped to convince someone to do so, as any of them would be taken more seriously than either of us.” Cyrril was nearby tearing apart a rodent half his size with gusto.

Steven turned from the small creatures and back to Caspian. “So, what do you propose to do about it?”

“I am going to march ahead of the caravan tomorrow and try to find somebody who will listen. Barring that I will consider whether to take any direct action myself. We know that the other caravan is coming from that other road. We simply need to find it and see what trouble they cause.”

“Easier said than done, Caspian. I am for warning of impending danger, but I am not yet sure that I want to get involved in a battle.”

“I am hoping to head off a battle, Steven. But I feel like no one wants to pay attention.”