Walkabout (Scatha & Barrett) - Samheen 25th MT

[Aislinn O`Conaill]

The servant woman's dark eyes took in their requests, though she waited for Barrett's acknowledgement before she bowed.

"I think I can manage to find you such items." One could almost see her mind, active and alert behind her demure eyes, determining where things would have to be retrieved from and where to assemble them. "It will take some short time to prepare these things, and it would help to know where specifically you intend to go? I am sure the Rafao will be pleased to provide you with a guard and guide - please be patient while we find someone suited to that part of the land."

Once they spoke, Alevina bowed and departed with one last comment, "If you would ask a servant to bring you to the Guard's Courtyard in 2 burns? I should have everything assembled for you by then."

After waiting for their response, Alevina promptly departed to carry out their requests.

OOC: Alright you two! Let's jump this forward a very little. Can you make a generic post saying what you've done during the intervening two hours and then end with 'arriving' at the guard courtyard? Just as a head's up: we'll do one minor skip again later once you've settled into 'traveling'.

[Barrett]

Barrett nodded assent to everything that was proposed, content that they would soon be on there way to explore the riverside.

He had a host of things with which he might occupy his time, but most of them would distract him for far longer than two marks. However there were possibilities...

"Why, Lady Scatha, I do believe we've time enough to review your letters. Would you like to try some new ones? Perhaps string together a few new words?"

"Or perhaps you would like to teach me a thing or two? Would you like to be my guide to bathing etiquette at the Rafao's Palace?"

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha wrinkled up her nose at the idea of learning letters; "I'd rather not," she said firmly. "My aunts always said that learning letters in the morning was dreadful bad luck." This was a downright fib, but Scatha was sure that her aunts would forgive her just this once. As for his other suggestion... she grinned at the thought of Barrett wallowing around in the bath pool, and his reaction to swimming naked with any comely women that might also be in the pool, and shook her head. "And I don't think you should go swimming... you might have a heart attack." A sudden idea struck her, and she dug into her pocket for the crystal. "This. You said you'd teach me to do magic with it. Let's do that." Barrett seemed know a great deal about magic, and if his magic teaching was as successful as his ability to use ten long words when one short one would do, then Scatha was extremely hopeful of producing a pet polecat from a hat.

[Barrett]

Barrett kept a cheerful smile on his face, although inwardly he groaned. He was not certain he trusted Scatha's discretion to control her use of magic. Actually, he was certain that he did not. And the crystal complicated matters... it would allow even a basic user to perform significant feats with ease. This he knew from personal experience.

Of course, he was not even confident that the Dortwoman would stay focused long enough to make any such lessons worthwhile. Her impatience with letters and expanding her vocabulary were quite discouraging. Then, there was the Aurelian's own struggle. The call of the pure, harmonic structure within the Aether was difficult to resist. And it grew more so each time he used the crystal to focus his manipulations.

Perhaps, spoke some inner voice of questionable motive, you should simply take it from her. That would protect both her and it - with no need to go through the torture of teaching the child and no risk of her mismanaging the responsibility.

The Dortman shuddered and was silent for a long burn. He did not like to think himself capable of such musings, and the thought had chilled him thoroughly. It was his duty to share his knowledge. (Albeit with some exercise of discretion.) And the crystal was meant for Scatha. Wasn't it?

When at last the priest spoke, his voice carried a peculiar clarity of purpose, a determination.

"Scatha, that which you ask will take far longer than two candlemarks, and it will require far greater focus than learning your letters. But if you wish, I can begin your lessons in meditation so that you might - after a few tides practice - at least perceive the energies."

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha flopped into a convenient easy chair; "Sounds good to me," she said cheerfully, tossing the crystal lightly into the air and catching easily. "So... what do I do? Say hocus pocus? And where is the hat for the polecat to come out of?"

[Barrett]

"Put the crystal away. There is no need for nonsense words. No hats and no polecats. Just you and the energy that surrounds us. To master it you must first master yourself. Stand."

The Querist waited for his student to obey before proceeding into an introduction to meditation and awareness. He wanted to be sure that Scatha possessed the discipline to achieve a meditative state before attempting to coach her through attuning her senses to the Aether. The next two marks were spent on the simple lesson of awareness of one's own body and life force and the steps required to achieve a meditative state. His instructions were simple and somewhat vague, for he wanted her to find her own balance without the distraction of "long words" and concepts that might be beyond her experience or desire to understand.

[wyrdgirluk]

"No polecats? Shame... I always wanted one, y'know." With a sigh, Scatha tucked the crystal back into her pocket, then stood up and listened to Barrett. Some of it did sound vague, and she had to concentrate very hard on those bits, but she found the idea of a life force running through everything a very easy one to adopt and understand - after all, hadn't she once been in the actual presence of the Mother Herself, and been marked as one of her Daughters? After that gift, it had been impossible not to recognise the essence of life force pulsing through all things, from birth to death and beyond. From what she understood, Barrett was trying to make her relax so that she could be aware of the lifeforce, aware enough so that she could touch it, maybe even manipulate it. She was, she supposed, a bit like a fish in a stream - the fish that wasn't aware of the water all around it, but just existing in it - and what if the fish suddenly realised it was in the stream, suddenly became aware of the swirls and eddys, became aware of the flow of the current, and that the stream came from somewhere and led to somewhere else?

These were extremely big and interesting thoughts, and so Scatha spent a quite entertaining two marks trying to imagine being a fish in a stream, ideally a perch, as she thought they were a pretty fish with their green and black bars and orange fins, but this didn't seem to work as well as imagining it was actually her underwater, somehow able to hold her breath without ever running out, and feeling her hair drift lazily around her face. That seemed to work better, and for a few, very brief flickers, there were moments when the entire room seemed to lurch oddly into focus, as if every sense was suddenly sharpened, so much that she felt she could touch the air. It was like a frosty morning on Dort, when you could see your breath rolling out (she used to call it dragon breath, but having seen an actual dragon breathe, Scatha knew this was not a good description) and you could see it and touch it, only here it was warm, and this time not only could you see it and touch it, you could taste it and smell it (recently digested sweet figs, in fact) and even hear it, a peculiar soft swooshing noise like the very small waves of a loch lapping at a shoreline.

Just as it is was with Deia in Trothgard, Scatha mused to herself as the room jolted back into normality again. I wonder if that is how Barrett sees the world? "What kind of a fish are you?" she asked out loud...

[Barrett]

"What kind of... Whatever do you mean?"

Barrett made a quick sweep of the Aether, just to be certain that nothing had touched Scatha to cause delusions. The crystal was so close, and so fascinating. And with it, Barrett felt her might ease things along with Scatha's lesson.

But at what price?

"Do you think you are a fish?"

[Aislinn O`Conaill]

OOC: I apologize for the late responce, and beg forgiveness - my asthma/health have been acting up this week, and my medications make my brain a little loopy.
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IC: Scatha's attempt were only marginally successful; the in and out fluctations of <i>sharpness</i> which she sensed (as her attention focused and drifted, due to anything which distracted her thoughts) gave her a bit of a headache, an oddly different sensation of exertion that seemed somehow tight behind her eyes. Mostly, however, the few moments she slipped into true meditation - she became intensly aware of herself, the beating of her heart, the flow of blood through her limbs, and the multi-colored darkness that dwelled behind her eyelids seemed more significant somehow. Meditating took skill and focus, when next she tried, Scatha would more easily slip into her imagined current, and perhaps be ready for further instruction.

Barrett, himself, would find the instructing process rather illuminating in its own way, as he had to understand the concepts and express them inteligibly before Scatha could proceed. Her few successes were indeed his as well, for a student could rarely surpass their teacher's understanding upon a first try.

The sensation of tightness would ebb away from Scatha slowly but surely as they approached the courtyard, the golden sandstone glimmering brightly in the mid-morning sun. Three horses were tethered there, tails swishing laconically in the mornings heat, as they entered the courtyard, a man was tightening and checking the girth-strap of a tall bay, the sun gleamed off of his bald scalp. Seeming contented with his work, he scurried out the opposite archway within flickers, intent on some other task.

The courtyard was rather sparse, but large, and placed to one side of the main courtyard at the palace's beginning. Several people, servants and others alike, scurried through, entering and departing through high archways centered on each wall. Scatha and Barrett emerged from one such. Their path from their rooms had carried them out to a shaded outdoor corridor, which emptied out upon a larger, gardened path. The slave that had guided them thus far, gestured to the horses, bowed, and disappeared back the way they had come.

Alevina appeared from a shady area next to the horses, nodding her head respectfully.

"These will aid your travels, and hopefully allow you to return quickly. Maigin will be your guide and guard..." her head craned slightly, but no one immediately appeared. She stepped forward, long sandy cloths draped over one hand, and several hats with short, flat brims in the other. Offering the two their choice, she would also help them wrap the turban if they seemed confused. "These are to shelter your heads, but I was not certain which would be preferred." Her brief cool smile appeared once all was selected.

"The mounts you are allowed, by His Holiness the Rafao, are these: Ayshar - the bay." The animal seemed docile enough, and the whip tied to the saddle seemed to suggest it as Scatha's mount, it's black-tipped ears swivelled at Alevina's speech, but it otherwise ignored it's surroundings. "And the white is Mear." Both bore packages behind the saddle seat, the requested supplies, and then some. Each saddle bore two flasks of water.

Alevina allowed them time to familiarize themselves with their mounts and check their gear as they waited a few burns, when a man dressed in simple but hardy garments approached. His face seemed darkly tanned and somewhat lined; his sparse dark hair was sun-bleached in places, and though he didn't exactly seem disagreeable, his greeting emerged half-grunted.

"Well, I'm to be your guide. And guard..." He added, eyeing them both. "My familiarity with the land means that, I have final say as to your safety. So long as we've got that clear...?" The gruffness seemed ingrained, but not exactly unfriendly. "And whereabouts were you heading? Marshland was all Alev, told me..."

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha examined the hats that Alevina presented, before finally selecting the one with the widest brim; she perched it jauntily on her head and tugged the tie beneath her chin, then laughed as it slid down the back of her neck; "I'll sort it out while I'm riding," she said with a smile, before turning her attention to the horses.

Scatha clapped her hands softly at the sight of them; "They are beautiful, Alevina." One of them - a bay with black tipped ears - had a coiled whip attached to the saddle, and with no hesitation Scatha approached that one. She put one hand out to gently stroke its head, and then slowly brought her own head close to it, close enough to feel its heat; "You are gorgeous," she whispered, patting it affectionately. "And Ayshar is a splendid name. I am quite sure you and I will get along wonderfully. Now, shall we see if the stable hands have done their job?" Scatha moved along one side of Ayshar, then the other, checking the tack. Good quality leather, she mused to herself, checking the length of the stirrups. Not quite Dortish standard, but very acceptable.... The bridle and stirrups were of a different design from the ones she'd used in Dort, but with no critical differences, and she was satisfied that they would do very well.

A brief investigation of the packages on the rear of the saddle revealed the food and filled waterskin, along wth an exquisitely tooled belt and pouch. Opening it, Scatha found three cruel looking blades, mirror-bright and sharp in the sun. One was a long knife in a sheath, nearly twice the length of her hand; the other was half its length again, a more workman-like blade for day to day use. The last was a pecularity; small, curved blade, light and thin and razor sharp, the blade practically merging into the delicate ivory handle. Scatha knew exactly what it was; a throwing knife, similiar to the ones she'd practised with on the Dark Whisper between Dort and Trothgard. She nodded in satisfaction, closed the pouch and fitted the belt around her waist.

There wouldn't be time to test the whip, and besides Scatha didn't want to alarm the horses - but it had obviously been used previously, looked good quality, and and been well cared for. Maybe ten feet long, Scatha mused to herself, checking the tang and the popper. It'll take a couple of throws to get used to it...

Scatha returned to Ayshar's head, gave it another affectionate nuzzle, and turned her attention to their guide. "Hello, Maigin - good to met you. And I understand about safety - whatever you say goes. I'm Scatha, by the way, and this is Barrett. I think you need to speak to him about exactly where we're heading - he has a better idea than I do. I'm just here for the ride, so to speak, and to make sure he doesn't get into any trouble." She winked at Maigin, and then turned back to Ayshar. "Now... let's see how you handle," she said soothingly, and walked to the left side of the horse. With her hands on the saddle, Scatha placed her left foot in the stirrup and swung herself up. "Easy as sitting on a chair," she said cheerfuly, settling herself comfortably into the saddle and pushing her right foot into the other stirrup. "What's your horse like, Barrett?" A sudden thought crossed her mind; "You do know how to ride a horse, don't you...?"

[Barrett]

Barrett harrumphed at Scatha's unanswered odd question and proceeded to the courtyard, improving upon his mental map of the place as they went. He was noting the architectural details of the walls when a stray ray of sunlight distracted him. He looked to see a bald servant going about his work after tending to some horses. Things at Citadel being what they were, the Querist could not take even the presence of servants for granted. So he found himself comparing the man's appearance and movements to the catalog of known persons that he kept - particularly the bald man from the library who had seemed so anxious the night before.

A flicker later it dawned on him that the mounts were for Scatha and himself (and presumably their guide). And then Alevina appeared. Barrett was struck by the manner in which she served them - with such attentiveness that he suspected her of being part servant and part spy. Such made sense considering in whose house they were visitors. He found he quite approved.

Of the head coverings, Barrett was drawn to the turban. He had no great fondness for hats in general - except to keep away the chill from one's ears in winter. But the foreign garment intrigued him. He accepted Alevina's help in arranging it and paid close attention to her methods and any advice she offered as to its utility.

Given a burn to do so, Barrett meticulously checked the straps and arrangement of saddle and gear and examined the contents of their packs. He did not want any surprises due to missing items - or potentially hazardous items that had been mixed in with their gear. The knives that drew such a satisfied look from Scatha raised an eyebrow.
"I trust you know how to use those things. I won't hazard a guess as to where a good Dort girl would have picked up such a skill."

He was, in fact, checking the water level and taste when Maigin appeared. The scholar's eyes took in the details of the man's appearance. The obvious marks of experience, the surety of movement. Even the gruffness of manner fit what Barrett had expected. Certainly a man free to explore would not exhibit the meek nature of the palace servants, nor the regimented courtesy of the guards.

"Maigin, well met. Conjecture and fancy must needs give way to empirical knowledge. I look forward to learning a bit from you about this place. We are especially interested in the Thothos of the river marsh. I've seen drawings, but wish to take advantage of our journey to see them firsthand."

Scatha's question caught the Dortman of guard. It was true most lads from Dort would have some acquaintance with horses. But Barrett was not one of them. He'd ridden once or twice as a boy, but that was so long ago.
"Not exactly... I assume you sit sensibly and let the horse do most of the work?"

[wyrdgirluk]

"Oh, I know how to use them," Scatha said cheerfully. "If you work on a farm, especially a cattle farm, a good knife is essential." She untied the pouch at her waist; "Look at them - they are wonderful blades. Clean and simple, nothing fancy, just well made tools. This middle blade, thats the most useful - a keen edge, good balance, useful for most anything - cutting a rope, peeling an apple, gutting a fish. The big one, that's more serious, you'd use that for taking the hide off a beast, or slicing something big open." Scatha said this with some relish; she was enclined to be rather bloodthirsty, and the new shiny set of knives had whetted her appetite. "The little one... that's the prize of the set. It's a throwing knife, small enough to hide in your hand, light and balanced enough to throw across a room without sacrificing power or accuracy. If you know what you're doing, you could pick the pips on a card from across a room. Take a man's eye out and wipe the jelly off afterwards," she added with a grin. "I'm not that good, but I did spend time about a ship once, and one of the crew taught me how to throw knives. I need practise, though." She carefully re-tied the pouch, then considered Barrett's comments about riding.

"Depends on the horse, as well as the rider. A lot of it is confidence; if you're nervous, the horse will sense it, and it will get jittery. But if you sit up straight, and grip with your thighs, then yes... assuming you have a calm horse. You should talk to Mear though, look him in the eye and introduce yourself. It's only good manners, especially if you're going to sit on him for the rest of the day." She glanced appraisingly at Mear, and then at Maigin; "Does he have a calm temper...?"

[Barrett]

Barrett had at first treated the horse more or less as another piece of equipment. Another cog in the machine that was slowly being set to motion. At Scatha's words, he reminded himself that animals were living things, with feelings and personalities and complex patterns of behavior that included - but were not limited to - the service they provided for humans.

After a thoughtful moment he approached Mear with care and respect.
"Hello there, Mear. I hope you'll enjoy this little trip as much as I plan to. I'm not very experienced at this, but I'm a quick learner."

He imagined the horse to be watching him as carefully as he watched it. Two creatures, each taking in the measure of the other. The young man then looked to Scatha for further guidance.

[wyrdgirluk]

"Very good," Scatha said approvingly. "Now that you've been introduced, time for you to climb on. Walk to the left side of Mear, going around by his head, never his tail. That way he can see you, and knows what you're going. Always go to the left side of a horse, never the right." She waited for Barrett to follow her instructions, then continued. "Put both hands on the saddle, one on the pommel, one on the cantle. The cantle is the curvy up bit at the back of the saddle. Now, put your left foot in the stirrup, and then push yourself up and swing your other leg over the horse, so that you're sitting on him." She waited with interest to see how Barrett would manage; Mear looked like a steady, quiet horse, and he was in familiar surroundings, so there would be very little chance of him rearing or bolting. "And don't make any sudden, jerky movements. Nice and steady, smooth and easy, as if you've done it every day of your life. It's as easy as falling off a log. Or a horse," she added hastily, glancing down at the hard cobble stones of the courtyard...

[Barrett]

"To the left, where it can see me. Pommel. Cantle."
Barrett demonstrated as he followed her instructions. He couldn't suppress a smile, or a comment.
"Now you're teaching me new words. Perhaps you won't be so cross next time I'm giving you a lesson."

Barrett set foot to stirrup and mounted. It felt a bit stiff at first.
I'll have to pay less attention and simply do next time.

"I thought the goal was to stay on, not fall off."

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha grinned at the Dortman; "Very good indeed. And for your information, pommel and cantle are perfectly good Dortish words, as you should know." Actually, Scatha wasn't entirely sure why those particular words were used; that was just the way they named, and always had been since she could remember. "When I was little, I used to called them the pummel and the candle," she mused out loud. "I know about candles from night time, and I was always good at pummelling my brothers."

She looked appraisingly at Barrett; "Make sure your other foot, the right one, is in the other stirrup. Use your thighs to keep yourself steady. And sit up straight, as if you've got a broom stuck down your shirt. You're sitting like a sack of potatoes at the moment." Scatha leant forward, patted Ayshar's neck affectionately, and turned to Maigin; "I think we're as ready as we're going to be. Do you want to lead Mear, at least until Barrett learns what to do? I'll be happy to bring up the rear..."

[Aislinn O`Conaill]

OOC: You two have nothing but my most abject apologies - life has caught up with me, and I will be handing in my 'title' of almost-mod shortly. I hope someone else will be able to pick things up soon, but for now, here's something to help tide you over. Since Maeve wants you guys onto the 26th soon, I'll try and give a hand in that regard to keep you moving this week.

IC: While the two had mounted up, Maigin easily slid upwards into the saddle, leaving a quiet grunt of acqueisance in his wake. Barrett's mount seemed docile enough, but his unfamiliarity with the necessary positions would leave him rather sore later.

"Well.... it'll be an excursion if you're interested in those... they are somewhat rare.. we'll stop in Mashere for a bit to eat around suppertime, and I'll find out where they've been seen recently."

There were no lead ropes on the horses bridles, but Maigin had various things about his person which could be of use if Barrett seemed approving of the notion.

Once settled, they were off, the three horses walking sedately to one side of the wide golden roadway. Their guide explained how only the Rafao was allowed to walk upon it.

Their path carried them far, through Abu'Sahir - where the popular taverns, shops (as well as the unpopular ones) were pointed out. Despite Barrett's earlier worries, the embroidery upon their garments was minimal compared to the flamboyant designs covering many of the natives. Their path led them from the city, with it's raucous sounds and sullied scents, through foreigner's court, and across a small ferry that carried them across the river. Great swaths of sand were constantly interupted by farmland, the greenery made possible by water carefully borrowed from the river to irrigate the land.

Clumps of bushes and trees dotted the riverside, and in the distance (away from the river) huddled lumps of colorful earth hinted at oasises.

Wildlife was abundant, as was greenery, and Maigin (without elaborating much) pointed out the various cacti and desert creatures. Occasionally he would draw notice to a nearby landmark, and briefly describe it's historical significance. At first they followed a road of hardpacked dirt and sand, accompanied by other travelers, but after a time there were fewer people to be seen.

When the sun reached it's zenith, they paused to allow the horses and Dortese a rest. Green smudges could be seen farther down along the river, but the vastness in between was deceiving to the eyes - making it seem much closer than it truly was. Barrett would have ample opportunity to make some quick sketches, if he so desired.

They were off once they were rested, Maigin following a similar pattern to their earlier routine.

As trade-tide rolled around, the three found themselves entering a village, spattered with small homes, and a tiny tavern and inn located in the center. A larger home, off in the distance, seemed to be surrounded by farmland, and even now small figures - slaves - could be seen tending the neat rows.

"Shall we break our fast? I need to take stock of how the marsh is, find out where the herds and flocks of our local creatures are hiding out... and any recent unrest..." with that, he tied up his horse in front of that small tavern, and trotted off in another direction.

If Barrett and Scatha chose to enter, they would be greeted by a thin middle-aged woman with a broad nose and a broader smile as dark skin stretched, loosening a few choice wrinkles about her eyes.

"Well then, visitors! Aren't we getting popular now, a right tourist spot I say!" She ran a cloth over the counter before her, then gestured to the 4 or 5 tables scattered about the room. "Seat yourself as you please, can I get you anything?"

There were a few other locals here, several old men at the bar, and a cluster of young women about a table. The women would eye Barrett curiously, muffling giggles behind slender hands.

[Barrett]

The Querist’s observations of the common dress made him wonder if they might stand out for the opposite reason than he had feared. He carefully recorded mental pictures of some of the natives - their clothing, posture, movements - in case it would prove useful to copy them at some point.

While the principles involved in riding were quite easy for Barrett to comprehend, he found himself unable to really warm to the concept of riding on another creatures back and having to match his physical person with the horse’s rhythms. He did not complain, nor did he request stops more frequent than necessary. But he did take every opportunity to stop in order to whip out his writing kit and record both route and landmark sketches. To this end, he found it more convenient to let his mount be led by Maigin and let Mear follow the guide while Barrett took in the details of the surrounding earth and sky.

Barrett dismounted, glad for a lengthy break from riding. He had an almost ideal build for straddling the horse and so did not suffer as greatly as he might, but there was still a bit of chaffing. He walked off the awkwardness. Maigin had parked them at a tavern and then went elsewhere. The Dortman wondered why he and Scatha had not been invited to follow. Would it not have been best for all of them to hear such news.

Then again, the tavern would likely be another source of such news. Perhaps Maigin merely protected trade secrets, or had other business to take care of in this place. Fair enough.

“Shall we be sociable, Lady Scatha?”
He held out an arm for her before entering the establishment.

Inside, he smiled at the proprietress and chose a table near the bar.

“Some water if you please, and perhaps a bit of whatever you’re serving for lunch.”

He waited for Scatha to order before posing a question to the older woman.
“So there have been a lot of foreigners coming through this area then?”

[wyrdgirluk]

They set off at a steady walk; at first Scatha felt a little awkward and stiff in the saddle, as she hadn't ridden a horse since she'd last been in Dort, but within a few candlemarks she'd got back into the rhythm of it again. Maigin was an a excellent guide; he pointed out places and people and features of the landscape that Scatha found quite facinating. It was a totally different world from Dort; dryer and hotter and sunnier, and she was extremely grateful for the wide brimmed hat she'd been given.

At trade-tide they rode into a small village; she nodded her assent to Maigin's suggestion that they should rest for teh night there, then eased herself out of the saddle with a sigh. The flimsy leggings she'd been given were pretty, but they didn't offer as much protection as her leather trousers, and her bottom and the inside of her thighs were quite sore; not quite as back as being spanked, but close... She patted Ayshar's neck affectionately; "Good horse. Well done," she said soothingly, then tied her mount alongside Maigin's. As she did so, she knelt down and took a handful of the earth, rubbing it though her fingers thoughtfully; dry, coarse earth, and very fine - more like sand. Too fine to hold moisture for long... "Must be difficult growing crops here," she mused out loud, then closed her eyes and breathed a silent prayer to the Mother for the day so far.

When she opened her eyes, Barrett was offering his arm; Scatha slipped hers into it with a grin. "Why, Master Threespan- such good manners. I hope they extend to your door knocking skills."

Once inside, Scatha greeted the thin middle-aged woman with a smile; "Food and water would be wonderful - and some for our guide, please. Also, is there anyone who can groom and fed our horses? They are tied outside."

Scatha settled herself into a chair, wincing as her sore backside complained about the hard wooden surface; "I don't know about you, but I feel like I've just been told off," she announced to Barrett, rubbing her thighs in sympathy. She tipped her hat off her head and shook her hair free; "That's better." In the corner, she could see a cluster of girl, looking at Barrett and grinning; Scatha grinned back. "Look, you've got admirers," she said teasingly. "They probably think you're a Dortish merchant prince, come to whisk then away to strange and mysterious places. Make sure you don't mention the Dort winters, or they'll run a mile..."

[Maeve]

"We don't have many foreign visitors in Amun Rah," the older woman smiled, calling something in an exotic tongue to the kitchen behind her, and pouring them both a mug of milk, and one for their guide "That is not since the Rafao took his men into the desert a couple of weeks back." She gestured vaguely. "But that is the exception to the rule. No strangers since, and I doubt there will be many for yahren to come. So.. stranger.. what brings you to these surroundings then?"

She walked up to their table, serving them with the mugs as a man in very bare clothing, just some white linnen wrapped around his hip and a cloth jerkin, all with touches of embroidery, but far more sober than on the women, came running from the kitchen, his face sweating from the heat inside. He carried three wooden trays with pieces of goat cheese and pieces of a dark green vegetable with a white succulent inside. Two hard pieces of .. something made with flour or similar.. but crisp like a cracker. Simple local food. He bowed extensively and quickly moved back to the kitchen at a glare of the matron.

It took some time for Maigin to return, muttering under his breath. He sat himself down without a word and took a huge swill of the goats milk, cleaning his mouth with his sleeve before looking at both of them "The flocks have moved deeper into the marshes for some reasons. Locals seem to think it was the Rafao's men that scared them off. There was a fight right into the desert not too far from here some weeks ago."

OOC: I'll be your host for now

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha peered suspiciously at the milk, took a tentattive sip... then nodded approvingly. "Smells worse than it tastes," she told Barrett, then took another mouthful. The food that was brought was good; fresh and simple, and all the tastier for it. She listened with interest to Maigin's comments; "A fight between the Rafao's men and who? What were they fighting about? And who won, more to the point? And is it safe to continue, with just the three of us?" Actually, Scatha wasn't that worried about herself too much, now that she had a whip and a decent knife, and Maigin looked like he could take care of himself - but she had no idea how Barrett might react in a tight spot. Too many books and not enough time hitting people, that's his problem, she mused to herself. "Barrett, once we find these birds, how do you propose to catch them, so that you get the feathers off them?" she asked suddenly...

[Barrett]

"Just taking advantage of my presence here to learn things that books and trade meetings cannot teach, madam. It would be a shame to make such a long trip and not get to know something of the people and the land of Amun Rah. For instance, I've read of the great river reptiles and the fabulous red-feathered Thothos, but even a well-drawn picture cannot compare to seeing them in person."
He smiled warmly at the old woman. It made sense to speak openly if he wished to learn anything from her.
"And I had hoped for a display of their fabled dance. You know, one of my associates had mentioned sending someone this way to study them, but the fellow never returned. Has anyone else from off-isle come asking about them recently?"

Barrett concealed his dismay with the food. Still more unidentifiable and potentially hazardous native fare. Not that the woman would poison them, but accidental mixtures were one of his reasons for being here. He ate sparingly, but with a cheerful expression, of milk, cheese and the strange bread.

At Scatha's teasing, he perked up.
"Whisk them away? Why I've already acquired more companionship than I can handle with you. Anyway, in this part of the world, and with Erwin's backing, I do qualify as a Dortish merchant prince. Should they expect fancier from a land with a bowl of soup in its standard?"

"I only hope I get home to see another Dort winter at some point..."

The Querist had no sooner opened his mouth to ask Maigin to elaborate than a flood of questions from Scatha cut him off. He chuckled quietly.
I wonder if she knows just how much like me she sounds.

"Catch them?! No nonono. Only observe them. I would not wish to interfere with them that much. But birds do shed their feathers. Perhaps we shall simply find some that have already detached. Or perhaps, Maigin, you will have a better suggestion?"

[Maeve]

"Now that you mention it," the older woman frowned, "Yes, in fact there was a foreigner just a day or so before the Rafao's men came through. He was asking after the Marshes birds just like you. Must be something for scholars, eh? I can't fanthom what use a Thortos bird would have. They are just pretty."

Maigin considered the question while munching, finally nodding just before he took a large gulp of his milk. "Aye, they shed their feathers near their nesting I would think. Not sure if you want to disturb their nesting, but if don't want to kill none, that would be the place."

Then Scatha showered him in questions and he took time to digest his food first, staring at the Dort girl with a little surprise as he pulled of pieces from the flat bread and put them in his mouth, slowly chewing.

"You sure ain't the quiet kind," he commented lazily "Well, you ought to ask the Rafao what he was up to. All I can tell ye is that he brought home a quaint collection of prisoners, and only half his men. All the prisoners, if you can call them that, for they were easily freed, were adhiel. What they'd be doing in the desert I don't know. I wasn't told."

He was silent again for another sip of milk before he added "Locals say it couldn't have been pretty. There were thunderstorms in the desert. That is not an usual thing, especially not in autumn. Early spring maybe, when the floods are about to come but not autumn. Tis our dry season. They say Anasati brought the heavens down upon somebody who deserved her wrath." He shrugged "Superstition. Just a freak storm."

[Barrett]

"Pretty they are. And many things we scholars study are not. So when a scholar wants to impress a Citadel lady, it helps to have something pretty to show her. Or that is one theory."
Barrett winked at the proprietress and gave a discreet chuckle.

Internally, his excitement had his mind working at a furious pace. Information and discretion. How to get more of the one without losing the other. The incident in the archives had him being more careful about the approach. But he had the fact that the other fellow was a foreigner in his favor. It would be less likely to strike a nerve, and less suspicious, to ask after a foreigner than someone that a native considered "one of their own." This time he kept his intensity at bay, speaking in normal, casual tones. Good country chat, just like the taproom back in Dort.

"I think I'd like to catch up to the fellow, compare notes and whatnot - and perhaps we can agree on what we'll charge the nobility for our hard-won information. Milady, do you happen to recall the man's name or anything that might help me find him back in the city?"

After getting as much information as the matron was willing and able to impart, the Querist returned his attention to the table conversation. Maigin's revelations were equally exciting. Unlike the guide, Barrett did know what the adhiel would have been doing in the desert. Although not in nearly the precise detail he would have liked.

"Thunderstorms in the desert? And have there been any further disturbances from the area? If it's a threat, we might want to mark it here on the map. If they have disturbed the birds, then the path must be close to the one we travel, eh?"
He had withdrawn the parchment upon which he had been recording the local landmarks and route of travel. It was a mixture of firsthand observations and information copied from the Archives the prior evening.

Godspeak. We are close to those events and that mystery. The scene that Finodborn described... horrific. And yet, I wonder if it is within our range on this journey. Would Maigin accept such a mission?

[wyrdgirluk]

"Oh, I am sure you already have to show the ladies of the Citadel," Scatha said wickedly. "After all, that servant girl of the Duke's seemed very interested in something of yours. What was her name again?"

It was Maigin's story that interested Scatha greatly. "Achiel? In the desert?" She looked at Barrett, wide eyed; "Do you remember Finodborn's story? He said that the elves had gone to a place in the desert, and that the One God had struck them down. That must be it - that must have been the place. And the Rafao - the survivors weren't prisoners - he must have been trying to rescue them. If he'd have been trying to help the One God, he'd have cut down survivors." She pursed her lips; "Finodborn said that all of the achiel were there. Two of my friends were achiel... I wonder if they survived. I hope so." She glanced up at Barrett; "Do you think the Rafao would have kept a list of those who survived...?"