From: John Constable (john_at_kript.net)
Date: Tue Oct 07 2003 - 08:15:04 BST
On Monday, October 6, 2003, at 12:20 pm, Heltevir_at_aol.com wrote:
>
> Whatever the travel route, Lenora jots it down on her little maps,
> including notes on what happened where as if it were sort of a journal
> to her. She practices shadow taunting and fencing, stays thoroughly
> amused with Farli's hide and go seek game and considers it a personal
> quest at least once a day to figure out where the woman is by foot
> prints, disturbances in the ground or telling horrible bawdy jokes and
> songs to see if she gives herself away by laughing.
>
> While she's at it, she tries to fish a little for interesting tid bits
> about her travelling companions: things they like or dislike and why.
> Anything about their histories that they would give up without being
> poked at too much. Places that they've been, adventures they've had..
> All get's stored to the side for a fable she's cooking up in her time
> before sleep.
>
"Its nights like this that remind me of my first trip outside Bush
Namur" replies Pean to Lenora's comment that he had been quieter than
normal one evening.
"You know my father - big, important merchant, takes a yearly caravan
to remote towns, sells surplus silk, spreads the word of the town,
brings back hard to find items, all that pillar-of-the-community sort
of stuff.
It probably wont surprise you to know that I was supposed to be his
aide, even inherit the business one day. So, I had an apprenticeship,
of sorts, covered all of the merchanting trade, from bargaining to the
geography of the route the caravan was to take that year - and that was
where the rot set in, you could say! The more I learned about the
world outside our walls, the more I wanted to learn. Soon, I could
rival the caravan captain for knowledge of the stars, and the landmarks
of Barsaive. So it wasn't that hard for me to persuade dear father to
take me along on the next expedition.
The days were hard travel, and the people like back home, for the most
part, but the nights! Ah, I remember the nights! Often, I'd sleep out
with just a bedroll, staring up at the sky, the passions in their
constellations dancing overhead, so bright away from the lights of the
town. I'd tour the campfires of our caravan, spending time with each
of the drovers teams, sometimes with them, sometimes just watching,
from the shadows - I grew to know them all. Then, sometimes, I'd be
sat by the dying embers of the cooking fire with my father, me with my
book of astrolithology, he with his ledgers and accounts, the quill
scratching on the parchement, the small of the spices from the food
diffusing into woodsmoke. Happy times.
Then we got to Grish’s Stand. You know it? An opened kaer. Grish’s
Stand is built around the old kaer, and its inhabitants still use it as
a place to flee to in times of danger, scorcher raids, and so on. Most
of the families maintain two homes, one without, and one within the
kaer, and keep the defenses and life support magic’s operating, which
has saved them several times. Well, to cut a long story short, a
plague broke out while we were there, and the town sealed itself up -
to protect others! Can you imagine it! The town was at risk, and yet
they thought of the world outside! I could scarcely credit it, and my
father, he did not understand it at all! Oh, no! There was no profit in
that! He raged at the door wardens, but they would not let us leave,
even though we seemed unaffected so far. They - the whole town - was
willing to die to protect the rest of the land, if needs be. This was
- you have to understand - I had only seen Bush Namur before, learned
only of the ways of the trader and merchant. Sacrifice was for the
troubadours.
So, I did what I could to help. The Physician was overwhelmed, of
course, so I volunteered to help. Nice fellow, taught me a lot, even
found the time to teach me physician skills that was not related to the
care of the terminally ill or plague ridden - which has served me well
in Bush Namur, as you know.
The plague, of course, was from a Horror. It was in finding and
fighting that, that I found my Way, my Art and my Discipline. A story
for another time, that. The plague over, my father wished to continue
on with his journey, and demanded that I abandon my new apprenticeship
to the town's Nethermancer - Tol - and leave with him. I refused, of
course. We had words, many bitter words, such as why I had not
revealed as an Adept to the testing. He hadn't put me forward! 'A
merchant is enough for me, and will be for you'! Can you imagine! I
could be an journeyman, studied under Sara Mayflower now! Still 'tis
for the best. I can see the spirits of this land now. In time, I
shall converse with those long past, and those from worlds beyond our
own, begotten scourged land. Even now, I know secrets denied others..
So quiet, yes, I am - or was! This night. Reminds me of the past. But
I am well, thank you, though you may rue the asking.."
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