Áá Éé Íí Óó Úú = The 'sound out letter' long vowel; standard lettering does -not- mean it -isn't- the long vowel if it seems to naturally follow
Ââ = 'ah' as in 'father'
Êê = 'u' and particularly 'ur' as in 'after'
Îî = 'ee' as in 'police'
Ôô = 'uh' as in 'son'
Ûû = 'oo' as in 'flute'
Ȩȩ = normal 'eh' sound - used only at the end to omit 'silent' assumption
ý = pronounce between 'yee' and 'ee' (sound out/long e); essentially has a very soft y sound
The journey through the fading light of the sky was much the same as before, through hilly ups and downs and along a known trail avoiding such blocking features as fissures or sudden drop-offs, which were occasional in the region. Deros did manage to snag another lizard along the way, though he cracked an arrow to do so and it was a smaller, orange-spotted female. It would add something fresh to the pot, at least.
The light had died hard and the temperature had dropped by the time they arrived down in the bowl-like depression of Shaded Pit. At the very bottom, the sheen of water was blatant in a deep drop-off, along with a massive jutting rock face that almost leaned over it. It faced south and as such would block Azrom much of the day. The pit’s water level was a lot higher than he’d seen it the few times he had prior, and the bowl had telltale signs of having significant runoff and rivulets feeding down it recently.
The bright and black-streaked spiral disk of Keramus, composed of a great multitude of stars, was its own kind of reddish-orange, glowing rise on the horizon to the east, framing the end of their journey for the night. All of the unridden aloga were led down the path to the water, with some of the party heading down as well. It was going to be cramped, and Thalamon was directing the others with clear intentions of making camp near the edge of the cliff.
Setting the camp proved to be a frenetic thing, with so much to do in a short period and only so many hands to do it, between setting tents, gathering fuel for fires, preparing food, and so on. Dreams of a large portion of lizard were dashed as Thalamon dictated a group meal to share between everyone. Ryza seemed a bit annoyed but insisted on her and her husband cooking ‘to prevent too much water diluting flavor’. Deros gave his lizard kill to her, as well as a small sack of snailfern heads the majordomo had gifted him with before he had left home.
With his unique night vision capabilities, Deros was charged with searching for firewood, dried thornwood, and whatever else he could find for the fires. Bariaki and he ranged in opposite directions to get what they could. It wasn’t terribly fruitful and they had to pull from their pack animal’s stock after all, which Thalamon frowned over balefully. Deros determined he’d have to make a point of collecting any good pieces he chanced upon the next day. Firewood was generally scarce, and charcoal was desired for slow-burning, minimal-flaming heat, buried in the ground at the center of the tents.
After helping with the fire prep, he assisted with the final tents going up — greatcane poles making a frame around which heavy hides and canvas were stretched across, then tied to make a tight cone with an open top for fire smoke to escape. Five tents for ten people, as pairing up was generally customary on missions of pressed pacing. As he was finishing up the last with Bariaki’s assistance, he noticed a smiling Urchon talking with Aerion by a tent they’d long since finished assembling. Urchon laughed at something, then touched the tip of the younger man’s nose with her forefinger, before sauntering off. The look on Aerion’s face made Deros snicker.
Well then. Guess my presumable platonic partner is out, then. And no need to drop hints where Aerion was concerned: he’d be learning all about Urchon’s scars that night. Intimately. But who would be his replacement? Logically, Urchon would’ve shared tents — in the more platonic sense — with Thalamon. That left Olarius and Bariaki.
“Bariaki,” Deros said suddenly, just as the man was about to turn and walk off. “We’re both light sleepers. Olarius is not. Care to be tentmates, then?” Short and simple, as the man preferred.
Bariaki considered it a moment, then nodded his assent, before turning and heading toward the aloga lines. Deros couldn’t keep a smile off his face — Olarius was not merely a deep sleeper, but a snorer. Bariaki was the type to leave the tent rather than endure it. He’d done the man a favor, more or less.
Deros assisted with the final bit of camp chores, which was caring for the riding aloga not left down by the water. Packs were removed along with saddles, and they were fed and given quick but very appreciated rub downs, in the time left before Ryza’s cuisine was ready. The wind occasionally carried the smells to him, and it made his stomach growl audibly. He had not eaten well enough for all his ability use. He’d likely end up looking like a glutton if the food was plentiful enough. Enseres eyed him in what might’ve been sympathy even as he stuffed his own face with bug-and-offal paste. But Deros was probably just imagining it.
By the time he was sitting on a folded-up blanket atop a rock by the fire, bowl filled with a thick stew, most were already gathered around, well into blowing on smoking spoonfuls to sate the day’s hunger. Deros stirred his with his wooden spoon, noting the contents — dumplings of soaked biscuit, chopped roots, cuts of red peppers, his snailfern heads floating at the top, and bits of lizard meat, including a nice boned piece of tail. He scooped up a helping with his spoon and blew on it, then took a bite. It was heaven-sent to him that night, exhausted and starving by the end. He tasted the pepper strongly, as well as the spicy mix Ryza had used, of salty and savory complex flavor.
He soon burnt his tongue annoyingly on it from eating too eagerly and endeavored to slow down. Olarius was last to the pot, having done a final scouting circle to ensure the peace of their dinner. He filled his bowl and sat on the rock next to Deros, nodding amiably to him. Olarius was a typical Hamaleen of pale red skin and redder freckles, with pale gray eyes and the gray hair of middle age held back in a tail of many braids. His face was long, weathered, and always shaven. Deros thought of him as generally quiet and keeping to himself, but more than capable of conversation or jest here and there.
Daexo was passing by, likely on his way for seconds, when he saw Olarius and slowed to say, “By the sweet curves of Healer, have the braids on your head doubled since the last time, old man?”
Olarius smiled and breathed a laugh as he finished with a bit of food in his mouth. “Ah, I can’t keep track, you know, Daexo. Children here, children there. The more, the better for the world.” He angled his head up suddenly, as though proud to display the braids. “Besides… ’tis my protection from the wind! Thanks to the gods for so many minions, for I fly like an arrow.”
Daexo made a mock-serious face. “Look, you need to slow down. If you have any more, they’ll be tying ribbons into your arse-hairs for want of space, and no one wants to see you proudly wagging those around, now do they?” Shaking his head in a mimicry of disapproving disgust, he walked off toward the still-steaming cooking pot.
“H-wha-…” Olarius watched him go with his mouth hanging open, trailing off. He then looked to Deros in disbelief, but he only got a helpless shrug in response. Daexo was Daexo.
Eventually, Deros finished his bowl and rose to get another from the pot, the contents of which had been well-spent and thankfully cooled off in the process. Standing a moment while he took a bite of what was the last of the meat bits, Deros ran his eyes over the others. Daexo and Aerion were jesting about something or other, as usual, and Thalamon was speaking seriously with Urchon. Ryza and Palamera had been talking for a while. Deros decided to head over and pay his compliments.
“The stew is perfect, Ryza,” Deros said as he approached, where Ryza sat cross-legged on a rug laid upon the ground, along with Palamera angled almost across from her and the mirror of her position. “More flavorful than nigh any camp concoction I’ve had, to date. We’ll all envy this night if you neglect to cook again for the journey.”
Both of them smiled up at him. Ryza gave an appreciative nod and said around her grin, “Complemented first by the glowing young couple, who could’ve imagined? Your children will be well-mannered. Thank you, Deros.”
The comment made Palamera purse her lips and cast her eyes to the horizon rather than meet anyone’s eye. Deros decided to take a bite of his stew in the pause created.
Clearing his throat after swallowing, Deros glanced over at Daexo, who had just guffawed at something. “I’d thank your oversized helper, too, but it would just embarrass him, not involving athletics or sticking spears in enemies as it was.”
“Yes, cooking isn’t exactly to his inclinations. But I’ve trained him not to complain and he did admirably this night. He only sighed at the lack of meat. Understandable. As complaints go, anyway.”
“We’ll solve that on the morrow. It’s clear the lizards will be plentiful from the rains. In fact… I believe I’ll arrow twice the yellows as you by the end.” He grinned.
Ryza gave him a sly look. “Is that right, young upstart? Make it a wager, then, if you’ve the stones for it.”
“Of course. Whoever has the most wins? The loser cooks. And salvages the arrows, for both. Assuming we all aren’t overrun by a raider horde, anyway.”
“The wager stands, then. Hope you have your recipes in order. I won’t have you making something inedible.”
“I’d worry more that you’ll become the permanent cook of the journey.”
“You have truly exhausted yourself, brother — you have not even made it to your tent, yet you dream. Rest well, so you cannot blame your loss on yawns.”
Palamera had been smiling at them all the while, and the last caused her to laugh and shake her head. “This trip was worth it, just to see you two banter. Those poor lizards. It will be a massacre.”
“That is surely safe to say,” Ryza declared as she rose up, then glanced at them both. “I think I’ll chat with Olarius a bit — you can take my spot, Deros. And, if you need help sneaking off later to get away from you-know-who, let me know.” Winking at Palamera, she then strolled away.
Palamera’s face turned a shade more colorful in the ample lamplight, as her widened eyes glared at the retreating back of Ryza. Deros quietly sat down on the rug and ate from his bowl, carefully keeping the amusement off of his face. Once, his eyes shifted across the fire to see Eursett, who was plainly watching them over her own slowly worked-on bowl of stew. It was the deliberate, unwavering sort of disapproval only one so ancient as her could maintain, completely without shame — a stony sentinel of the bygone letter of law. It annoyed Deros immensely and he tried to ignore her.
For her part, Palamera noticed and moved closer to Deros, smiling warmly at him and touching his hair, as though checking his braid. A bit of defiance, then. He returned her smile, loving her for all of it. Even that minor public display was unlikely to be so easy for her, under her superior’s watchful eye.
“Do you really think you can beat her?” Palamera queried, seated next to him with one knee up and her arms wrapped around it. “She’s been hunting as long as you’ve been alive. To survive, even, not just supplementing crops.”
Deros shrugged mildly. “It’s fairly even. She has the experience, the accuracy… but I have more freedom to range and the sensory advantage. Honestly, this will keep me sharper for catching any danger, since movement is movement.”
“If I see one, I’ll holler. Or maybe just thwack it with my hatchet, and I’ll sneak it to you.”
Deros laughed. The vision of Palamera chasing lizards with a hatchet was an entertaining one. “No, no — cheating for your favorite is not allowed, now. Ryza is one to play fair. If it was something with Daexo or Aerion, then maybe.”
“Favorite hunter?” Palamera pretended to consider it carefully, squinting her eyes at him judiciously. “I think you’re in the top five, at least.”
“Ahh, so honored,” Deros replied sarcastically, gazing off toward the fire.
She just leaned in with her body and nudged him, in response, and he could feel her eyes on his face. He didn’t react until she nudged him again, a bit harder. Then he relented to meet her eyes and couldn’t help but laugh at her comically insistent smile, a nonverbal signal of her teasing playfulness.
“I guess I’ll just have to win this, then,” Deros added, “to prove my worthiness to my woman.”
“Mmn, it would be so very manly. But if you lose, the wedding is off.”
Deros breathed out in surprised exclamation, almost a wheeze. “My, the stakes have been raised to the heavens!”
Palamera only shrugged with a smug grin on her tattooed face, eyes sliding away from him.
Aerion brought out his flute and began playing before the fire, first a sobering tune of long notes and subtle turns. Everyone, in proper politeness, ceased conversation and, if afar, drew closer to listen. Acts of music by the fireside gathering were the most ancient of traditions, to ward off bad spirits, bad luck, and even predators, as corsinids did not care for strange noises. Dancing was probably out, considering the long day and the long days ahead.
The sad notes held Deros spellbound as he gazed into the smoldering fire, his empty bowl and spoon set aside. Thoughts drifted without solid form or aim in the unique relaxation it all brought. He was only shaken from the spell by the suddenly-noticed arrival of the biting cold, finally winning out over the heat sources that held it back. When Deros saw Palamera shiver and rub her arms, he murmured he’d get her cloak and rose to do so.
Retrieving her cloak and nightcoat along with his where they were set outside tents, he was surprised to see Bariaki stalking around the aloga with his bow at the ready, looking out across the dimly visible terrain for threats. It was a bit like the man teleported to Deros’s mind — last he had seen, the old scout had been brooding into the fire what seemed only moments ago. But it had obviously been longer. Deros shook his head and headed back.
When he returned, Aerion was just switching to something more whimsical, if not exactly upbeat. Deros handed Palamera her extra clothes, which she thanked him for and donned immediately to get warm. He did likewise before sitting down and enjoying the rest of the relaxing sounds his friend created with the polished greatcane instrument, fingers dancing over the holes as he blew into it from the side. Sometimes it sounded as though two instruments played, from a kind of buzzing undertone of harmonics. He’d heard a southern minstrel play on a complex, metal instrument he called a flute as well, but the sounds were different, sharper. And those extra harmonics weren’t present.
When Aerion was done, he bowed, and there were claps and whistles from everyone. It died slowly, as everyone waited for the customary call for cheer from the leader — but it never came.
Thalamon stood and indicated with his hands to quiet. “I’ve allowed this tonight for luck, but going forward, our fires and prayers will need to be sufficient to banish evils. We want to be aware of threats before they’re aware of us, if at all possible, and it’s not just netherbirds I’m worried about.”
He paused to let it sink in before continuing, “With our daylight so minimal, we’ll be skipping Surrender entirely, and add an hour to our nighttime rest. So seven hours. A sentry will rotate on the hourglass. Spend your time mixed in circles and being atop the rise to check our horizons. Always have a horn and be ready to blow it before loosing an arrow. Palamera, you’re exempt as you’re not familiar with sentry duties. Instead, the last watch will wake you up a half-hour early to get started on our chores before heading out. Agreeable?”
Palamera cleared her throat and replied, “Yes, Vaeton! It can be an hour, really. I don’t need the sleep.”
“A half-hour. Everyone needs to be as rested as possible. That’s an order.”
“Yes, Vaeton.”
“Everyone else heed that just the same. Now. Bariaki and Eursett just don’t sleep as long, regardless. They’ll take the first and second shift each night, and the rest will rotate the five other shifts. Tonight it will be: Deros as third, then Aerion, myself, Olarius, with Urchon taking the final shift.”
Great, a mid-shift, with tomorrow the contest. And she-
“Olarius,” Ryza suddenly spoke up. “Would you trade with me tonight? It’s for an important personal matter.”
Olarius shrugged. “I have no qualms with sleeping more. Granted.”
Thalamon said nothing, though his eyes lingered on Ryza. For her part, she grinned at Deros. ‘No excuses, brother,’ she might as well have said.
Aerion, huddling himself in a fur cloak, looked Daexo’s way. “Daexo, would you trade with me, for the love we have to one another?”
Daexo scoffed. “If it’s for that, I’ll give you instead a kick between your nipples.”
A ripple of laughter came from the gathered, as Aerion pretended to be offended and said, “Oh heavens, the abuse I suffer at his hands! And feet. Okay, what if I say it is also for the most worthy of causes?”
Daexo sipped something warm from his horn cup and appeared unmoved. “I’m only charitable with my wife. Just ask my family.”
Urchon, grinning devilishly, interjected, “I’d call it all pointless, as I’ll be keeping him up all night anyway.”
Hoots, jeers, and laughter erupted, Deros among them. Aerion could only take it all on the chin, nodding his head with his lips pressed and curled inward, plainly — miraculously — a bit shamefaced. It was a rare and cherished sight from his friend. Meanwhile, Eursett stared at Urchon like an abomination come to life, and Palamera, arms propped up on her knees as she sat, had her face buried from view in them, from embarrassment.
Thalamon, despite suffering some amusement himself, had to calm them all down. “Alright, alright! Enough of that, you scoundrels that call themselves Azakan. Urchon, jests aside, do make sure you and, ah, your tentmate get proper rest.” He reached down to take an hourglass that had been sitting nearby and flip it on its wide base. “One hour before the first watch begins. Wrap it up and get to bed.”
Everyone rose and began picking up — the first serious order of business was pulling apart the fire and picking out pieces to smolder and help heat up the tents, utilizing two big shovels. Once his own tent had the charcoal burning in the center, Deros moved his things in and set down his bed of blankets and furs on one side. Bariaki arrived shortly after to do the same on the other side.
Deros made one last exit to wash his utensils, hands, mouth, and so on with a waterskin while they had the blessing of a plentiful water source. In the days to follow, it might not be so easy. He spied Aerion and Urchon sitting by the dead fire, talking close. Waiting for everyone to settle down into bed before they did, no doubt.
As Deros walked back to the tent, Keramus was still gargantuan in the southern sky, taking up its entirety and glowing brightly from its center above the horizon. The reddening bottom of it kissed and highlighted the dark outline of the sloping terrain. So many stars. Even the darker, spidering ribbons that streaked through it were dotted with bright specks. Did each have planets as sons and daughters, and they, likewise moons? Uncountable worlds, and each unique. Taldecca Atateri, ‘people of fallen stars’. The allusions of Esteron. The advanced science and technology hinted at in the dictionary. Yet no other place was ever detailed — certainly not ‘the distant lands’ they came from. Had they come from another world, around another star? Which? Why?
Such questions spun in Deros’s mind still, as he ducked through the heavy tent flap, removed his boots and headgear, and even after he settled under the blankets. Sleep came quickly and easily and the mysteries spun right into dreams of bizarre landscapes, creatures, and the exotic glittering lights of alien cities, always on the horizon.
Áá Éé Íí Óó Úú = The 'sound out letter' long vowel; standard lettering does -not- mean it -isn't- the long vowel if it seems to naturally follow
Ââ = 'ah' as in 'father'
Êê = 'u' and particularly 'ur' as in 'after'
Îî = 'ee' as in 'police'
Ôô = 'uh' as in 'son'
Ûû = 'oo' as in 'flute'
Ȩȩ = normal 'eh' sound - used only at the end to omit 'silent' assumption
ý = pronounce between 'yee' and 'ee' (sound out/long e); essentially has a very soft y sound
The journey through the fading light of the sky was much the same as before, through hilly ups and downs and along a known trail avoiding such blocking features as fissures or sudden drop-offs, which were occasional in the region. Deros did manage to snag another lizard along the way, though he cracked an arrow to do so and it was a smaller, orange-spotted female. It would add something fresh to the pot, at least.
The light had died hard and the temperature had dropped by the time they arrived down in the bowl-like depression of Shaded Pit. At the very bottom, the sheen of water was blatant in a deep drop-off, along with a massive jutting rock face that almost leaned over it. It faced south and as such would block Azrom much of the day. The pit’s water level was a lot higher than he’d seen it the few times he had prior, and the bowl had telltale signs of having significant runoff and rivulets feeding down it recently.
The bright and black-streaked spiral disk of Keramus, composed of a great multitude of stars, was its own kind of reddish-orange, glowing rise on the horizon to the east, framing the end of their journey for the night. All of the unridden aloga were led down the path to the water, with some of the party heading down as well. It was going to be cramped, and Thalamon was directing the others with clear intentions of making camp near the edge of the cliff.
Setting the camp proved to be a frenetic thing, with so much to do in a short period and only so many hands to do it, between setting tents, gathering fuel for fires, preparing food, and so on. Dreams of a large portion of lizard were dashed as Thalamon dictated a group meal to share between everyone. Ryza seemed a bit annoyed but insisted on her and her husband cooking ‘to prevent too much water diluting flavor’. Deros gave his lizard kill to her, as well as a small sack of snailfern heads the majordomo had gifted him with before he had left home.
With his unique night vision capabilities, Deros was charged with searching for firewood, dried thornwood, and whatever else he could find for the fires. Bariaki and he ranged in opposite directions to get what they could. It wasn’t terribly fruitful and they had to pull from their pack animal’s stock after all, which Thalamon frowned over balefully. Deros determined he’d have to make a point of collecting any good pieces he chanced upon the next day. Firewood was generally scarce, and charcoal was desired for slow-burning, minimal-flaming heat, buried in the ground at the center of the tents.
After helping with the fire prep, he assisted with the final tents going up — greatcane poles making a frame around which heavy hides and canvas were stretched across, then tied to make a tight cone with an open top for fire smoke to escape. Five tents for ten people, as pairing up was generally customary on missions of pressed pacing. As he was finishing up the last with Bariaki’s assistance, he noticed a smiling Urchon talking with Aerion by a tent they’d long since finished assembling. Urchon laughed at something, then touched the tip of the younger man’s nose with her forefinger, before sauntering off. The look on Aerion’s face made Deros snicker.
Well then. Guess my presumable platonic partner is out, then. And no need to drop hints where Aerion was concerned: he’d be learning all about Urchon’s scars that night. Intimately. But who would be his replacement? Logically, Urchon would’ve shared tents — in the more platonic sense — with Thalamon. That left Olarius and Bariaki.
“Bariaki,” Deros said suddenly, just as the man was about to turn and walk off. “We’re both light sleepers. Olarius is not. Care to be tentmates, then?” Short and simple, as the man preferred.
Bariaki considered it a moment, then nodded his assent, before turning and heading toward the aloga lines. Deros couldn’t keep a smile off his face — Olarius was not merely a deep sleeper, but a snorer. Bariaki was the type to leave the tent rather than endure it. He’d done the man a favor, more or less.
Deros assisted with the final bit of camp chores, which was caring for the riding aloga not left down by the water. Packs were removed along with saddles, and they were fed and given quick but very appreciated rub downs, in the time left before Ryza’s cuisine was ready. The wind occasionally carried the smells to him, and it made his stomach growl audibly. He had not eaten well enough for all his ability use. He’d likely end up looking like a glutton if the food was plentiful enough. Enseres eyed him in what might’ve been sympathy even as he stuffed his own face with bug-and-offal paste. But Deros was probably just imagining it.
By the time he was sitting on a folded-up blanket atop a rock by the fire, bowl filled with a thick stew, most were already gathered around, well into blowing on smoking spoonfuls to sate the day’s hunger. Deros stirred his with his wooden spoon, noting the contents — dumplings of soaked biscuit, chopped roots, cuts of red peppers, his snailfern heads floating at the top, and bits of lizard meat, including a nice boned piece of tail. He scooped up a helping with his spoon and blew on it, then took a bite. It was heaven-sent to him that night, exhausted and starving by the end. He tasted the pepper strongly, as well as the spicy mix Ryza had used, of salty and savory complex flavor.
He soon burnt his tongue annoyingly on it from eating too eagerly and endeavored to slow down. Olarius was last to the pot, having done a final scouting circle to ensure the peace of their dinner. He filled his bowl and sat on the rock next to Deros, nodding amiably to him. Olarius was a typical Hamaleen of pale red skin and redder freckles, with pale gray eyes and the gray hair of middle age held back in a tail of many braids. His face was long, weathered, and always shaven. Deros thought of him as generally quiet and keeping to himself, but more than capable of conversation or jest here and there.
Daexo was passing by, likely on his way for seconds, when he saw Olarius and slowed to say, “By the sweet curves of Healer, have the braids on your head doubled since the last time, old man?”
Olarius smiled and breathed a laugh as he finished with a bit of food in his mouth. “Ah, I can’t keep track, you know, Daexo. Children here, children there. The more, the better for the world.” He angled his head up suddenly, as though proud to display the braids. “Besides… ’tis my protection from the wind! Thanks to the gods for so many minions, for I fly like an arrow.”
Daexo made a mock-serious face. “Look, you need to slow down. If you have any more, they’ll be tying ribbons into your arse-hairs for want of space, and no one wants to see you proudly wagging those around, now do they?” Shaking his head in a mimicry of disapproving disgust, he walked off toward the still-steaming cooking pot.
“H-wha-…” Olarius watched him go with his mouth hanging open, trailing off. He then looked to Deros in disbelief, but he only got a helpless shrug in response. Daexo was Daexo.
Eventually, Deros finished his bowl and rose to get another from the pot, the contents of which had been well-spent and thankfully cooled off in the process. Standing a moment while he took a bite of what was the last of the meat bits, Deros ran his eyes over the others. Daexo and Aerion were jesting about something or other, as usual, and Thalamon was speaking seriously with Urchon. Ryza and Palamera had been talking for a while. Deros decided to head over and pay his compliments.
“The stew is perfect, Ryza,” Deros said as he approached, where Ryza sat cross-legged on a rug laid upon the ground, along with Palamera angled almost across from her and the mirror of her position. “More flavorful than nigh any camp concoction I’ve had, to date. We’ll all envy this night if you neglect to cook again for the journey.”
Both of them smiled up at him. Ryza gave an appreciative nod and said around her grin, “Complemented first by the glowing young couple, who could’ve imagined? Your children will be well-mannered. Thank you, Deros.”
The comment made Palamera purse her lips and cast her eyes to the horizon rather than meet anyone’s eye. Deros decided to take a bite of his stew in the pause created.
Clearing his throat after swallowing, Deros glanced over at Daexo, who had just guffawed at something. “I’d thank your oversized helper, too, but it would just embarrass him, not involving athletics or sticking spears in enemies as it was.”
“Yes, cooking isn’t exactly to his inclinations. But I’ve trained him not to complain and he did admirably this night. He only sighed at the lack of meat. Understandable. As complaints go, anyway.”
“We’ll solve that on the morrow. It’s clear the lizards will be plentiful from the rains. In fact… I believe I’ll arrow twice the yellows as you by the end.” He grinned.
Ryza gave him a sly look. “Is that right, young upstart? Make it a wager, then, if you’ve the stones for it.”
“Of course. Whoever has the most wins? The loser cooks. And salvages the arrows, for both. Assuming we all aren’t overrun by a raider horde, anyway.”
“The wager stands, then. Hope you have your recipes in order. I won’t have you making something inedible.”
“I’d worry more that you’ll become the permanent cook of the journey.”
“You have truly exhausted yourself, brother — you have not even made it to your tent, yet you dream. Rest well, so you cannot blame your loss on yawns.”
Palamera had been smiling at them all the while, and the last caused her to laugh and shake her head. “This trip was worth it, just to see you two banter. Those poor lizards. It will be a massacre.”
“That is surely safe to say,” Ryza declared as she rose up, then glanced at them both. “I think I’ll chat with Olarius a bit — you can take my spot, Deros. And, if you need help sneaking off later to get away from you-know-who, let me know.” Winking at Palamera, she then strolled away.
Palamera’s face turned a shade more colorful in the ample lamplight, as her widened eyes glared at the retreating back of Ryza. Deros quietly sat down on the rug and ate from his bowl, carefully keeping the amusement off of his face. Once, his eyes shifted across the fire to see Eursett, who was plainly watching them over her own slowly worked-on bowl of stew. It was the deliberate, unwavering sort of disapproval only one so ancient as her could maintain, completely without shame — a stony sentinel of the bygone letter of law. It annoyed Deros immensely and he tried to ignore her.
For her part, Palamera noticed and moved closer to Deros, smiling warmly at him and touching his hair, as though checking his braid. A bit of defiance, then. He returned her smile, loving her for all of it. Even that minor public display was unlikely to be so easy for her, under her superior’s watchful eye.
“Do you really think you can beat her?” Palamera queried, seated next to him with one knee up and her arms wrapped around it. “She’s been hunting as long as you’ve been alive. To survive, even, not just supplementing crops.”
Deros shrugged mildly. “It’s fairly even. She has the experience, the accuracy… but I have more freedom to range and the sensory advantage. Honestly, this will keep me sharper for catching any danger, since movement is movement.”
“If I see one, I’ll holler. Or maybe just thwack it with my hatchet, and I’ll sneak it to you.”
Deros laughed. The vision of Palamera chasing lizards with a hatchet was an entertaining one. “No, no — cheating for your favorite is not allowed, now. Ryza is one to play fair. If it was something with Daexo or Aerion, then maybe.”
“Favorite hunter?” Palamera pretended to consider it carefully, squinting her eyes at him judiciously. “I think you’re in the top five, at least.”
“Ahh, so honored,” Deros replied sarcastically, gazing off toward the fire.
She just leaned in with her body and nudged him, in response, and he could feel her eyes on his face. He didn’t react until she nudged him again, a bit harder. Then he relented to meet her eyes and couldn’t help but laugh at her comically insistent smile, a nonverbal signal of her teasing playfulness.
“I guess I’ll just have to win this, then,” Deros added, “to prove my worthiness to my woman.”
“Mmn, it would be so very manly. But if you lose, the wedding is off.”
Deros breathed out in surprised exclamation, almost a wheeze. “My, the stakes have been raised to the heavens!”
Palamera only shrugged with a smug grin on her tattooed face, eyes sliding away from him.
Aerion brought out his flute and began playing before the fire, first a sobering tune of long notes and subtle turns. Everyone, in proper politeness, ceased conversation and, if afar, drew closer to listen. Acts of music by the fireside gathering were the most ancient of traditions, to ward off bad spirits, bad luck, and even predators, as corsinids did not care for strange noises. Dancing was probably out, considering the long day and the long days ahead.
The sad notes held Deros spellbound as he gazed into the smoldering fire, his empty bowl and spoon set aside. Thoughts drifted without solid form or aim in the unique relaxation it all brought. He was only shaken from the spell by the suddenly-noticed arrival of the biting cold, finally winning out over the heat sources that held it back. When Deros saw Palamera shiver and rub her arms, he murmured he’d get her cloak and rose to do so.
Retrieving her cloak and nightcoat along with his where they were set outside tents, he was surprised to see Bariaki stalking around the aloga with his bow at the ready, looking out across the dimly visible terrain for threats. It was a bit like the man teleported to Deros’s mind — last he had seen, the old scout had been brooding into the fire what seemed only moments ago. But it had obviously been longer. Deros shook his head and headed back.
When he returned, Aerion was just switching to something more whimsical, if not exactly upbeat. Deros handed Palamera her extra clothes, which she thanked him for and donned immediately to get warm. He did likewise before sitting down and enjoying the rest of the relaxing sounds his friend created with the polished greatcane instrument, fingers dancing over the holes as he blew into it from the side. Sometimes it sounded as though two instruments played, from a kind of buzzing undertone of harmonics. He’d heard a southern minstrel play on a complex, metal instrument he called a flute as well, but the sounds were different, sharper. And those extra harmonics weren’t present.
When Aerion was done, he bowed, and there were claps and whistles from everyone. It died slowly, as everyone waited for the customary call for cheer from the leader — but it never came.
Thalamon stood and indicated with his hands to quiet. “I’ve allowed this tonight for luck, but going forward, our fires and prayers will need to be sufficient to banish evils. We want to be aware of threats before they’re aware of us, if at all possible, and it’s not just netherbirds I’m worried about.”
He paused to let it sink in before continuing, “With our daylight so minimal, we’ll be skipping Surrender entirely, and add an hour to our nighttime rest. So seven hours. A sentry will rotate on the hourglass. Spend your time mixed in circles and being atop the rise to check our horizons. Always have a horn and be ready to blow it before loosing an arrow. Palamera, you’re exempt as you’re not familiar with sentry duties. Instead, the last watch will wake you up a half-hour early to get started on our chores before heading out. Agreeable?”
Palamera cleared her throat and replied, “Yes, Vaeton! It can be an hour, really. I don’t need the sleep.”
“A half-hour. Everyone needs to be as rested as possible. That’s an order.”
“Yes, Vaeton.”
“Everyone else heed that just the same. Now. Bariaki and Eursett just don’t sleep as long, regardless. They’ll take the first and second shift each night, and the rest will rotate the five other shifts. Tonight it will be: Deros as third, then Aerion, myself, Olarius, with Urchon taking the final shift.”
Great, a mid-shift, with tomorrow the contest. And she-
“Olarius,” Ryza suddenly spoke up. “Would you trade with me tonight? It’s for an important personal matter.”
Olarius shrugged. “I have no qualms with sleeping more. Granted.”
Thalamon said nothing, though his eyes lingered on Ryza. For her part, she grinned at Deros. ‘No excuses, brother,’ she might as well have said.
Aerion, huddling himself in a fur cloak, looked Daexo’s way. “Daexo, would you trade with me, for the love we have to one another?”
Daexo scoffed. “If it’s for that, I’ll give you instead a kick between your nipples.”
A ripple of laughter came from the gathered, as Aerion pretended to be offended and said, “Oh heavens, the abuse I suffer at his hands! And feet. Okay, what if I say it is also for the most worthy of causes?”
Daexo sipped something warm from his horn cup and appeared unmoved. “I’m only charitable with my wife. Just ask my family.”
Urchon, grinning devilishly, interjected, “I’d call it all pointless, as I’ll be keeping him up all night anyway.”
Hoots, jeers, and laughter erupted, Deros among them. Aerion could only take it all on the chin, nodding his head with his lips pressed and curled inward, plainly — miraculously — a bit shamefaced. It was a rare and cherished sight from his friend. Meanwhile, Eursett stared at Urchon like an abomination come to life, and Palamera, arms propped up on her knees as she sat, had her face buried from view in them, from embarrassment.
Thalamon, despite suffering some amusement himself, had to calm them all down. “Alright, alright! Enough of that, you scoundrels that call themselves Azakan. Urchon, jests aside, do make sure you and, ah, your tentmate get proper rest.” He reached down to take an hourglass that had been sitting nearby and flip it on its wide base. “One hour before the first watch begins. Wrap it up and get to bed.”
Everyone rose and began picking up — the first serious order of business was pulling apart the fire and picking out pieces to smolder and help heat up the tents, utilizing two big shovels. Once his own tent had the charcoal burning in the center, Deros moved his things in and set down his bed of blankets and furs on one side. Bariaki arrived shortly after to do the same on the other side.
Deros made one last exit to wash his utensils, hands, mouth, and so on with a waterskin while they had the blessing of a plentiful water source. In the days to follow, it might not be so easy. He spied Aerion and Urchon sitting by the dead fire, talking close. Waiting for everyone to settle down into bed before they did, no doubt.
As Deros walked back to the tent, Keramus was still gargantuan in the southern sky, taking up its entirety and glowing brightly from its center above the horizon. The reddening bottom of it kissed and highlighted the dark outline of the sloping terrain. So many stars. Even the darker, spidering ribbons that streaked through it were dotted with bright specks. Did each have planets as sons and daughters, and they, likewise moons? Uncountable worlds, and each unique. Taldecca Atateri, ‘people of fallen stars’. The allusions of Esteron. The advanced science and technology hinted at in the dictionary. Yet no other place was ever detailed — certainly not ‘the distant lands’ they came from. Had they come from another world, around another star? Which? Why?
Such questions spun in Deros’s mind still, as he ducked through the heavy tent flap, removed his boots and headgear, and even after he settled under the blankets. Sleep came quickly and easily and the mysteries spun right into dreams of bizarre landscapes, creatures, and the exotic glittering lights of alien cities, always on the horizon.
