A Slow Boat to Argent

The personal diary of Sorashi, daughter of Deirdre, pt 24

Bazaar 25^th Leviathan (25^th Serpent DC) 3658 – late afternoon

We stand on the beach below the cliffs – those who have been here before discuss how it has changed.

Eventually, someone (Constance, I think) focusses sufficiently on our predicament to ask if any of us can fly – but not enough to remember that at least 2 of us can.

So Tajal and I shift and fly over the cliffs – fortunately, these stay where they should and do not rise to meet us as they did in the journey from Chaos. We are looking for familiar landmarks, or, failing that, a way up for the rest of us.

Well, we managed the latter – the cliffs are high, but not insurmountably so, though they hold swamp behind their ridge, like the rim of a bowl holds water. There is a river, and a city some distance off, but it is no Amber to my inexpert eye, nor is the slight rise the city is on Kolvir. Other, smaller settlements lie between the cliffs and the city.

We land, shift and clothe ourselves then I trump Constance and pull the rest of us through.

Even though this is not Amber, we need information so walk to the nearest settlement – a place naming itself as Grasmere. It has few buildings, mainly stone, but one large building adorned with a tower.

Unfortunately, whilst we garner attention, it is not friendly – the Rebmans, covering little but their groin areas, seem to outrage these natives to a worrying degree, but even my comparatively modest salwar kamees does not escape their ire. Most of the women seemed swathed in heavy skirts and thick shawls, with their heads covered even against the mildness of the evening.

The priest of the Unicorn – the large building, plain as it is, is the local Temple – seems the prime instigator of our lack of welcome – though hearing Constance being referred to as the equivalent of a non-temple prostitute is one of the minor amusements in this otherwise unsettling scenario.

We do manage to get some information from our less-than-welcoming hosts – the land is called Argent, the king has been missing so long that his name is no longer recalled, though there is a Vizier. Discretion being preferable to having to slaughter an entire village, we leave and I repeat the process of the cliff-tops to settle on a reasonably defensible copse of trees a sufficient distance away to rest for the night.

Neria gets a call from her mother, and lets her know of the happenings so far – apparently Fiona is still unconscious, but her colour has returned and she breathes steadily and deeply, so they hope for a swift recovery. We ask for clothing for the Rebman women, the guards we would be better served by the army so I trump Mother.

So now the women are covered, and the soldiers have matching black and silver uniforms – the fit could be better, but beggars are not nabobs.

Ahad 26^th Leviathan (26^th Serpent DC) 3658

The plan, worked out the next morning, is to gain passage by boat to get to the city – we will need money, or something that will serve as such.

The nearest harbour is called Haven – those who can work Pattern try and find currency on the way, but the place is too near the fixed pole for that (we are told).

Still, it is a not-unpleasant place, though the clothing differs from the village of Grasmere – people here wear hats, rather than the shawls of the rural folk.

The port, however, is much the same as any port anywhere – full of activity, boats and forceful smells – tar, leather, sea salt and bilges. The boats are a mix of styles – sailing sloops rub against steam-powered whilst hybrid vessels jostle for position between both.

Destinations are for either Roonor Archent – spelt Argent but not pronounced like it – and, upon enquiry, we are a sufficient number to necessitate hiring a boat entirely for ourselves, which would cost 135 leaves (the local currency)

After a little begging via Trump, we find ourselves with 1 stone-set ring from Llewella and a dagger from Blaise and via an odd sort of local custom, we loan them to a moneylender/jeweller for sufficient money to hire a boat and for future contingencies, to be regained once the money is repaid with a little usury on top.

And so it is that we find ourselves on a boat, sailing down the River Oysiyn to Argent. Tajal prattles at the captain, distracting him as best she can – despite this, I doubt he fully believes our cover story but, as he is being well paid, he is polite enough not to openly challenge it.

We arrive at yet another port – larger than the first, but still in many ways similar to the one we left, and pay for a wheeled conveyance to take us to an inn – the Moolan Blur ( apparently the local term for a blue windmill) – let us hope it has been extended from its original size!