The morning scent of the inn fills my nostril and shakes the cobwebs from my mind. The gruel before me was fresh ground this morning. I can feel the steam of it on my face. The keep's wife has cooked it with apple and spices. Richter sometimes talks of mother and the meals she cooked. Geoffrey says that he was too young and has no memories. And I, well it was my birthing which broke the thread that bound her here.
Last night was long and I pay for it now. Time enough to rest when we are to sea.
I fell asleep in Geoffrey's chair, waking only when they returned.
They took to their beds and I took to the streets. I spent the night
walking alleys and backroads. From five different parts of the city I found
them. Homeless, cold,and hungry. Some were close to death, others close to
giving up.
Street urchins, beggars, flotsam forgotten by the city that spawned them.
The prices were steep but in the end I placed each of them into an apprenticeship with different guilds. The merchants were grumpy when I woke them so early but when I was done paying the guild fee their humor was restored. A humor which quickly evaporated when I took their oaths in blood and fire. As to the children. Well a life without hope will make an opportunist out of anyone. The way it is they are grateful and in twenty or thirty years they'll be ready for activation... Father always said to take the long view.
Richter has joined me. He looked at my gruel and ordered mutton with mint greens. I told him that gruel in the mornings is good for his bowels but he ordered the meat anyway. I ask him not to kill anyone today and he just grunts.
We are finished with breakfast and sitting on the bench outside the
Inn.
Richter is reading from some text he found in the market and chuckling to
himself. In the distance I hear a train of pack horses and watch as they
approach.Burgeoning packs and fine looking specimens every one. Behind them
a shape that I know well.
Geoffrey has equipped us well, as usual. Twenty packs with a variety of goods and horses trained by the best horse brothers that the city has to offer. He has booked us passage on a shallow bottom coastal trader. We travel from Laurmel around the peninsula to a drop point on the Iron River. From there we take a barge upriver for a few weeks and then finally overland through the Asgolan Fields to Hrelar Amali.
Well we got all those damn horses on the boat. They don't have a lot of room to move around but Geoffrey says that's to the good. He blindfolded most of them to bring them up the plank. The ones that he didn't I think he was testing. As far as I could tell they passed with flying colors.
Speaking of flying colors. As we were being towed out of port I noticed a ship being piloted in. It was flying Frowal colors. Being the inquisitive type I wondered who was on board so I enhanced my vision and moved to the rail. I made note of two things; guards wearing DePorier crests and a prelate with the symbol Teard of Riverplain. I suppose Richter will be happy. If one of the Deporiers is chasing him then at least this fellow has brought a priest to absolve Richter after the duel. Damn thoughtful. Father always believed that a man should make sure of where he's going.
We are sitting on the grassy banks of the river. If it were not for the gasping breaths of my brothers maybe I could hear the cool liquid sound of the river. Our horses and the bulk of our gear are either underwater at this point or well on their way.
It was somewhere during the third day. We were getting very close to our drop off when I began to feel it. A vague sense of forboding. I went aloft on the main to have a look around and that was when I saw it. A low bank of fog about two furlongs off of our stern. Not unusual in itself but when I started thinking about it I realized that this particular fog bank had been slowly creeping up on us over the last day and a half.
I climbed down and in the galley's rainbucket cast a scrying. We couldn't see much detail, just enough to give most men cold sweats and nightmares that don't stop on waking. Most people believe that when Zzabur broke the Vadeli lands and sank them into the sea that only the brown survived. Father told me though that breaking Vadel took a great deal out of them all and none were left strong enough to finish the red corsairs that were out at sea. Since that time the Waertagi have hunted the few survivors but some few still are out there. And one of them was on our trail.
I convinced the captain that we had made a change of plans. He would be allowed to keep the horses and packs in exchange for swinging closer to shore. Undoubtedly the master thought we had lost our minds but then greed overpowered him and he consented. I feel bad about leaving him to ... well to horrors that I can imagine only too well. Yet staying would have made little difference to the outcome.
Instead, when we were close enough, I sight line ported us onto the beach and we ran. First Geoffrey kept us going and then I. Richter held onto his strength in case a red actually decided to push after us. If that happened he would need his strength to summon the battle blessings of the prince.
For six hours we ran all out, leaping logs and streams with deer like abandon. Until finally fatigue could no longer be held at bay and we needs must stop. Now as the breathing slowly returns to normal and there is no sign of pursuit I look ahead to Hrelar Amali and the long, long walk which awaits.
I miss my horse....
more later
Bill(I can't draw worth a damn) Thompson
"Ask me a riddle and I reply:
"Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie.""
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