Chapter 15 The Camp
The road to Lyris wove its way through thick woods, across mountain passes, and over jumbled rocky ravines. It seemed that every hour brought them into new terrain. The Vision landscape was beautiful, severe, and a bit unfriendly to travelers, Wataru thought. Just like it is in my world.
Often they would come upon small villages that didn’t provide lodging. On those nights they were forced to pitch a tent and camp outdoors. Kee Keema taught Wataru how to do everything: pick a campsite, make a fire, fish for food in the rivers and ponds, and gather edible berries and mushrooms from the forest. Tagging along, Meena was also curious about learning these things. But when it came time to cook, the kitkin didn’t need any schooling. She was a hundred times better at preparing meals than Kee Keema.
In his travels across the southern continent, Kee Keema had walked many lands, and knew many of the towns and villages they came to. But Wataru was surprised to hear that he had not yet made the trip to Lyris.
“Lyris has a shipping guild of its own, so they have little business with us darbaba drivers. They need specially made carts and containers for importing and exporting goods and services. Plus, they have their own specific way of doing things. I’ve passed by the area many a time, but never had a chance to visit.”
It was, he learned, a village of craftsmen. They trafficked in metal, stone, wood, and leather to make all sorts of things. The design and quality of their craftsmanship was legend—and all of it made not by magic but by hardworking hands.
Their wares were known even in the north thanks to sailship merchants. In faraway lands, the necklaces and rings they made fetched ten times the local price. For the past several years, the most coveted of these items were a series of baubles called Heaven, made by a master craftsman known as Toni Fanlon.
“Seems it’s sparked a bit of a craze up north. A sailship merchant friend of mine asked me to drop in on Fanlon’s workshop should I ever go near the place. Apparently, he crafts ’em all by hand, so that means there’s only ten or so made a year. You have to be very lucky to get your hands on one of those.”
“Can’t you reserve one in advance?” Meena asked, gently swaying back and forth in the cart behind them. She seemed quite interested in them herself.
“Out of the question. Apparently, this Fanlon fellow’s not much for customer service.”
He sold his works only to people he had met, and liked, Kee Keema explained. “You can bring all the money you want, and if he doesn’t like you, he won’t sell you a thing. Of course, if he gets along with you well, he’ll charge you only the cost of materials. They say he even sometimes gives stuff away for free.”
“Odd fellow,” Meena said, sniffing.
While the two talked, Wataru was thinking. If Lyris traded in beautiful crafts, they would need lots of rare metals and jewels. Maybe someone there would know something of the second gemstone Wataru needed to find. It made even more sense, when he considered that Mitsuru was said to have gone to Lyris ahead of him.
Was Mitsuru on a quest to find the gemstones too? But didn’t he already have a gem—the one on the end of his black staff—with enough power to quench the wildfire in Maquiba?
When they were no more than a day’s journey distant from Lyris, they encountered their first accident on the road. A large cart drawn by two darbabas had tipped over, spilling a great load of rock salt. The mess would have to be removed by hand, then the cart would have to be moved out of the way before anyone could pass. The men there couldn’t say how long it would take, and until it was done, no one could go farther.
A short distance ahead was the border for both Sasaya and Bog. At the checkpoint gate, officials observed travelers as they passed from one land to the other. The United Southern Nations valued the independence of each of its lands, but times were peaceful, and there was little hassle involved with passing between any of the four countries. This policy was what made it possible for drivers and merchants like Kee Keema to travel all through the south. The gates’ only duties were to record the number of people who passed, and make sure that the contents of each cart matched the writ the driver carried.
They decided that rather than wander aimlessly around while they waited for the road to clear, they might as well help with the cleanup. As such, they were all working and sweating in the noontime sun, when two officials flew down from the gate. They set up a desk in a small teahouse to the side of the road, and announced that they would proceed with the gate-passing formalities to help expedite congestion after the road was clear. It was such a reasonable suggestion that Wataru was rather surprised.
“I can’t imagine any official in the real world being this thoughtful.”
The officials had actually flown down. They were both karulakin. Wataru immediately remembered being saved by a kindly karulakin during his first visit to Vision.
“What? What are you looking at?” asked the karulakin who was wearing eyeglasses.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. I met one of your kind before—that is, one of your people saved me once.”
“Well now, that’s fine, just fine.”
“Ah! Quite good, quite good.”
The two gate officials flapped their wings enthusiastically. They looked pleased. “We always seek to serve the public good, you see. Tell me, what was the nature of your predicament?”
“Ah, um, well, I was attacked by these gimblewolves…”
“Aaah!” the officials shouted. “Gimblewolves!”
“I’ve not had one of those in a long time!”
“Can barely remember the taste!”
“Ach, we should go home more often!”
“No, no, it’s our duty to serve the people!”
“Then we should at least write home and have them send us some gimble-wolf jerky.” The karulakin smacked his lips.
When they walked away from the desk, Kee Keema put a hand to his chest and made a faint gagging noise. “I’d heard the karulakin liked that foul-smelling flesh, but I never imagined it was really true. Makes me ill just to think about it.”
“So the homeland of the karulakin is near the desert where the gimblewolves live?”
“Aye. Up on a rise, at the top of a cliff over the gulch. But many, like these two, leave to become officials. Bird-men have good heads for figures.”
“Say,” Wataru asked. “If I ask you something, would you promise not to get angry?”
“What’s that?”
“What would happen if these karulakin took up transportation, like your kind? Wouldn’t they be pretty stiff competition? I mean, they could fly things anywhere!”
Kee Keema threw back his head and laughed. “Not a worry there. Not even a little. They haven’t the strength to lift much more than a crate. It would take one the whole day to load a cart.”
Kee Keema put a hand to his jaw and struck a pose of exaggerated thought. “The day our livelihood is threatened will be the day a creature shows up that’s faster than a darbaba, doesn’t need care and feeding, and can go just where you tell it to go without you yanking on the reins the whole time. But I’m not worried. The Goddess looks out for her own. She wouldn’t leave us waterkin out in the sun to dry and shrivel up. Everything exists according to her plan. She didn’t make a creature so convenient as that, and I don’t see why she would in the future.”
Wataru nodded and said he was probably right, not voicing the doubt that flashed briefly through his mind.
—But, Kee Keema, there’s something in my world that’s just like the creature you imagined. Except it’s not living. It’s called a machine. Not just machines, but power in general. That was what made Wataru’s world move.
—I wonder what would happen if someone invented machines here in Vision? Or brought them back from my world? The thought didn’t sit well with Wataru for some reason. He shook his head and went back to clearing rock salt off the road.
By evening, a small campground had sprung up by the teahouse. Wataru’s group pitched their tent and traded supplies with their neighbors. They all sat around a common fire, ate, and talked merrily.
The night was growing deep, and just as Wataru began thinking about lying down in his tent, he saw lights from several torches coming down the mountain road from Maquiba toward their makeshift camp.
“Look…” Meena said, stifling a yawn. Everyone turned and peered out into the night. “It’s the Knights of Stengel.”
Pretty soon everyone in the campground joined her in craning their necks, trying to get a better look at the approaching lights. Soon they saw not only the lights, but silvery reflections in breastplates and helms.
“What’re they doing all the way out here?” a merchant next to Wataru muttered. “Looks like their great captain is leading them, no less.”
“What? Captain Ronmel? Here?” said one of the gate officials coming out of the teahouse, flapping his wings. “We must greet him properly!”
“If you’re going to greet anyone properly, shouldn’t you call the master of the teahouse?” the merchant said leisurely, hands in his pockets. “Those bird eyes of yours don’t see well enough to make tea in the dark.”
“Indeed, just as you say!”
There were five Knights in all, one riding up ahead of the others. Their helms covered their faces, but the darbaba upon which they rode wore cloth banners hanging over their foreheads, with five-petal flower designs upon them. Trone had taught him that mark back in Gasara—these were indeed the Knights of Stengel.
The master of the teahouse came running out so fast it appeared he might stumble and roll out into the road. Composing himself, he went to greet the Knights while they were still some distance from the campground. They spoke briefly, and the Knight in the lead and the one sitting directly to his rear left got off their darbabas and approached the camp with the master.
“That one in front, is he Captain Ronmel?” Wataru asked the merchant.
“Aye, that’s right.”
“How can you tell if you can’t see his face?”
“The shape of his helm says enough. Take a closer look. You see how it is formed like a dragon’s head? That’s the helm worn only by the warriors of House Ronmel.”
“You know your stuff.”
The merchant snorted. “I may be a down-on-my-luck merchant now, but a long time ago, I was studying to become a starseer. I even studied in Sasaya for a while, I did. You have to learn your history to study the future, you know.”
Before they came in range of the campfire, the two Knights had taken off their helms. They were both quite tall, each standing at least two heads above the stocky teahouse master.
“We’re the first Lancer Company of the Knights of Stengel,” the one walking in front announced in a loud, clear voice. “I am Captain Ronmel, and this is my lieutenant, Vais. This evening, while we were stopped at the Grandera River crossing house, we heard of the darbaba cart accident here, and how passage along the road was stopped. We came to survey the damage. I know you must all be tired from your day’s work, but we ask a moment of your time to assist in our investigation. We will erect a tent for this purpose—but if there are any injured, tell us now.”
Wataru had expected a stern, authoritative proclamation, but the man was rather polite. Wataru wasn’t the only one surprised. Many of the others around him seemed startled as well. Ordinary people didn’t often have the opportunity to meet a Knight of Stengel, Wataru realized.
Everyone was quick to comply with the request. When the investigation began, the Knights removed not only their helms, but all their armor. This gave them a much more casual look, but they still maintained their stiff posture and spoke with utmost formality.
Wataru’s tent was right next to the tent set up by the Knights. But for some reason, he wasn’t summoned immediately. Those who were interviewed first said they hadn’t been asked anything really difficult. Yet, at the same time, they seemed relieved as they walked back to their own tents.
“Don’t see why Captain Ronmel has to come all the way out here over a darbaba cart flipping,” Kee Keema wondered aloud. Half of his mind was not on the Knights at all but on their team of darbabas. He looked like he was ready to drool as he talked about their fine manes, and wondered how far they could run or whether they were good on the rocks. He would have gone over to examine their hooves if he hadn’t thought it inappropriate.
While they waited, the night slowly passed. Meena was having trouble staying awake and started leaning against Wataru. She looked so comfortable that Wataru soon found himself drifting off too. Suddenly a voice called out, “You three! You’re next.”
It was Lieutenant Vais. Wataru leapt to his feet, but Meena actually leapt through the air, almost reaching the doorway. The lieutenant quickly stepped back, raising his hands.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” Meena hurriedly apologized, blushing. “I didn’t mean to startle you!”
The three obediently followed the lieutenant. They noticed his shoulders shaking slightly, as though he were trying with all his might to keep from laughing.
The Knights’ tent was a small affair, with a folding table set directly in the center. Captain Ronmel was patiently waiting for them. Next to him sat the shortest of the five Knights, holding a pen poised over a large booklet bound on one side. The open page was covered with writing.
“Having a laugh, Vais?” Captain Ronmel asked as the three sat across the table from him. “What sort of spell did you weave to achieve this?” he asked them. “It’s not anyone who can make old stoneheart here crack a smile.”
Meena blushed even deeper—maybe it was more than embarrassment from having overreacted back in the tent. Maybe it was because Captain Ronmel was a strikingly handsome man. His nose cut a sharp line in the center of his face. Even the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes were charming. Wataru guessed he was about the same age as Uncle Lou.
“So, you’re Highlanders.” The captain’s blue eyes hadn’t failed to miss the firewyrm armlet Wataru wore. “I heard that quite recently in Gasara there was a young boy who helped apprehend the criminals behind a string of killings. He was invited to join the Highlanders. Might that be you?”
Wataru faced the captain directly and nodded. “Yes.”
“Then you are a Traveler from the real world, then? Is this true?”
Wataru could see no reason to hide the truth from him. He responded yes again. The captain’s expression did not change, nor did the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes move. The Knight taking notes, on the other hand, seemed to hold his breath, even scooting back noticeably in his chair. A single drop of ink fell from the tip of his pen. Kee Keema was flustered so much by this—though there was really no reason for him to be worried at all—that his tongue whipped out and licked the top of his head.
“Excuse me,” the young Knight and Kee Keema said at the same time. The Knight’s face blushed deep crimson. Meena giggled and slapped a hand over her mouth, growing even redder. The young Knight began to fidget in his chair.
At last, Captain Ronmel laughed out loud. “You’ll have to excuse us. It’s been a long journey, and with all the serious investigations to be done, we haven’t had a break in a while. And it’s late, we’re all tired.”
I guess people get giddy when they stay up late here in Vision too.
At last everyone was sitting comfortably in their chairs, and the questions proceeded quickly. Wataru’s group hadn’t witnessed the accident directly, but they had seen the aftermath.
It was a stroke of luck that there hadn’t been any serious injuries, Captain Ronmel concluded. “We’ve had a number of accidents involving darbaba carts turning over on roads all over the country lately. We investigate them seriously because some of them seem to have happened on purpose in order to obstruct traffic.”
That’s why they came to investigate in the middle of the night.
“Everyone was quite surprised that you came here yourself, Captain,” Kee Keema said.
Captain Ronmel looked at Wataru. “I thought it might be a good chance to meet this Traveler that Kutz was talking about. I counted the days since you left Gasara and determined he would be around here by now.”
“Kutz told you about me?”
“‘For all his crying like a baby, he’s a brazenly clever little one,’” The captain said, doing a passable imitation of Kutz. His eyes were smiling. Wataru laughed.
“That sounds just like her!”
“We’ve known each other for a while. You might say we’re rivals.”
Because you dumped her?
“By the way, there was another thing I wanted to ask. You stopped at Maquiba, did you not?”
Wataru nodded.
“Then you were there at the time of the fire?”
“No. When we arrived, it had already gone out.”
Captain Ronmel’s eyes glinted. “Then you heard the story of the traveling sorcerer—the one who put out the wildfire?”
Wataru related the tale as he had heard it in Maquiba. The captain listened intently to every word, and the young Knight recorder sitting next to him scribbled furiously in his book.
“The power of the seawyrm—a water incantation, then,” the captain muttered. “And the sorcerer was a boy as well…”
“That’s what they said.”
“Could he be another Traveler, such as yourself?”
“I believe he is. I think he’s my friend. He came here before me.”
For some reason a shadow moved across Captain Ronmel’s eyes. Wataru had noticed nothing of the sort when he told the captain he was a Traveler. Why should this news of another Traveler concern him?
“Have you met this friend of yours here?”
“No. I thought I might like to though, so I’ve been following him. That’s why we’re going to Lyris.”
The captain nodded slowly and rubbed his jaw with one hand. His brow furrowed ever so slightly. “You, or rather, Wayfinder Lau…” He glanced at the recorder. “On second thought, don’t write that. It has nothing to do with the matter at hand. I’m sorry to have taken so much of your time,” he said, turning back to Wataru.
He told them they would examine the overturned cart once dawn broke and then they would head back to Maquiba. They were going to investigate the cause of the wildfire. When Wataru commented how busy they were, the captain shook his head. “We’ve been running ourselves ragged dealing with monsters of late—there always seems to be more, and they grow fiercer every year. Most local peacekeeping and investigations we’ve had to leave to the Highlanders. And of course, that won’t do.”
“It reminds me of something that Puck was saying,” Meena said. “In the towns they passed through, they always heard one or two stories of people being attacked by monsters. They had never heard such stories before now.”
“Same here,” Kee Keema nodded. “That’s all people talk about nowadays in the darbaba huts. Stories of mountain-rats, usually quite tame, forming great masses and attacking udai and the like. And then there was that roaming gimblewolf near Gasara.”
“That’s right. We had to send the Highlanders out with one of our patrols, we were spread so thin,” Captain Ronmel said with a wry smile. “Kutz had a field day with that one. That’s right, you were one of the ones that rode out. Thank you for your help. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
Wataru and the others went back to their tent. Kee Keema and Meena fell asleep right away, but Wataru couldn’t get his eyes to shut. He kept thinking about that suspicious shadow he saw briefly across Captain Ronmel’s face. He couldn’t help but think that somewhere hidden in that shadow was the real reason why the Knights had come all the way up into these mountains.
Maybe I’m thinking too much about it. But then again…
Wataru was restless, so he got up and quietly slipped outside. Maybe a look at the stars will calm me down.
Wataru wasn’t the only one out and about. He found Captain Ronmel standing alone a short distance from the campground. His profile toward Wataru, he stood gazing up at the northern sky.
The captain noticed Wataru right away. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“No. I’m not sure why…”
“You saw a big accident today. Let the starlight wash it from your eyes.”
What was the captain doing out here all alone? Why did he look so forlorn? What was he thinking?
Wataru couldn’t think of the right words to say to him. And he felt like asking questions might be a mistake. This man was one of the most important people in the southern continent. Who was to say he couldn’t look moody now and again when he was alone? Still…
The two stood there silently side by side. After a short time, they both returned to their tents. Wataru had a bad taste in his mouth, but even if he were asked, he wouldn’t have been able to say why.