The Journal of Brother Solomon

Part 9

In which we journey to Loonz.

Godsday, Mobilityweek to Godsday, Illusionweek, Fireseason, 613

We’ve spent a week recovering from our vicissitudes and basking in the genuine adoration of the village – receiving free room and board and the occasional free drink, all of which probably explains our reluctance to leave.

But we haven’t entirely wasted our time. Using George’s tools and five shillings worth of wood and leather, Ariella has handsomely repaired my poor shield, which had been reduced to just the boss by Finlay’s vicious blow in our fight. And I’ve kept a pastoral eye on young Gaillard, whose recovery remains sound.

But our thoughts turn toward our mission, such as it is. We pour over the five verses of the Adrasteia poem; we can see how it alludes pre-hoc, to Hillsgreen Crossing but I confess I can’t see how it takes us further – but then it could hardly guide us directly regarding future action, the Great Pact being what it is.

We argue between ourselves for several days but ultimately we have but two leads: the Beavers’ saviour, Malotov, is known to have passed through Loonz a year ago and the evil Slimepriest known as Ghaunadowr ‘the Faceless’, who subverted Finlay, did so somewhere north of Loonz.

So it seems our path leads through Loonz – well it will be nice to get back to a city environment, I’ve never really been the rustic type… and in view of the likelihood of future violence, I’d like to invest in better armour if I’m to be a warrior-monk.

Freezeday, Truthweek, Fireseason, 613

So we set off. As we prepare to leave, a large number of the villagers turn out to wish us well. Tommy produces a basket of food – salted lamb and specially cooked bread (with a picture of a lamb baked into the crust – the village economy is very sheep dependent).

Mary and Gaillard are among the throng, clearly a devoted couple. She lets go his hand just long enough to give me a necklace composed of seasonal flowers – how charming! I am genuinely touched. Obviously, at one level it is related to a child’s daisy chain, but actually it shows quite a degree of craftsmanship. I wear it proudly out the village but, once we’re a mile or so on our way and there’s no danger of being seen, I remove it carefully and place it between two sheets of velum, sandwiched between writing boards, carefully bound with twine. When we get somewhere more settled I shall have it preserved as a memento.

The weather is overcast but the clouds are high; it’s dry for the moment but Ariella thinks showers are on the way in the next couple of days.

Of course, the precise route to Loonz is unclear. However, George suggests if we turn left when reach the Moon River, we can’t miss it – Loonz is the most major city west of Moonguard, after all. Bitey thinks it’s about four days. Ariella, who hails from Salzberg, doesn’t recall much about the town but she does remember that the road between Loonz and Moonguard is well-kept, unlike the roads west of Loonz.

Somehow the conversation drifts from the roads, through the terrain through which they pass and on to what to expect in that terrain. It’s generally accepted that the incidence of Chaos is markedly higher north of the River than where we are now. Of course, back in the Dawn Age, the Moon River (though I think it had another name, then) marked the boundary of the Chaos Zones. Moonguard pushed back the frontier over the last thousand years but, as you might expect from a cult with one foot in the Chaos camp, the cleansing hasn’t exactly been assiduous.

Since our road seems likely to lead north of the River, and one of our leads is apparently a most evil Slimepriest, Ariella tries to give us the basics of what to expect regarding the nature of Chaos. Actually, she isn’t a bad teacher, and she proves a welcome distraction as the weather turns dreary and starts drizzling.

With the drizzle comes a drop in temperature – it feels like Earthseason has come a week early. Most of us don’t relish camping in the rain and I find my behind is distinctly saddle-sore so we gladly part with a Moon to stay overnight at an inn.

Waterday, Truthweek, Fireseason, 613

The weather stays dull and drizzly but I think I’ve regained my seat and I’m not the one slowing our progress today. Ariella again holds forth regarding the horrors of Chaos but perhaps she did not sleep as well as me because her delivery is more rambling than yesterday – still, there’s no such thing as bad knowledge, is there?

Aside from her lectures, the day passes without event. Ariella thinks the weather might be clearing up and, possibly because so little has happened of note, we elect to camp under the stars tonight, making camp at the foot of a low cliff, offering some protection from the wind and occasional shower.

Of course, even though we’re south of the River and east of Loonz, we’d be fools not to set watches. Fatima and I are happy to take the last watch, which will nicely tie in with dawn prayers. As a monk, I’ll also be up briefly at midnight as well, but I’m used to that.

As it happens I’m shaken awake by George early in the second watch. He says, “Listen!” and immediately I can hear a noise like a strong wind rustling dead leaves – common enough in Earthseason but strange at this time of year. Ariella thinks it might be a mini-tornado approaching along the bottom of the cliff face! She points out into the dark but I can’t see anything – the night-clouds hide the light of the crescent Moon.

Fatima is also awake and says something about moving her cart – that and our mounts are tethered by the wall so they too can enjoy the shelter, but left where they are they’ll be run over by the ‘mini-tornado’. We all set to and I lead Keziah away, though she seems not at all skittish – her unflappability is one of the things I like about her.

Retethering Keziah, I turn and see it for the first time – it does indeed look like a whirlwind, carrying dust and leaf litter, scouring the foot of the cliff. We’re all out of the way and it doesn’t swerve out to get us. In truth I don’t know how much of a threat it might pose if one of us were caught in it but better safe than sorry, right? Ariella thinks it’s losing force and will probably die away in a few minutes.

I say my midnight prayers and get back to sleep. Two hours later George wakes me again for the third watch. It passes uneventfully for Fatima and I, and for that I give thanks in my dawn prayers.

Clayday, Truthweek, Fireseason, 613

The weather clears up and it starts to feel more like Fireseason again. Ariella thinks it should keep getting better over the next few days so we will probably be camping out again tonight.

Late morning the road reaches the Moon River. We’re descending a low hill, approaching the junction with the main Moonguard-Loonz road when Ariella and I spy a man running toward us, waving his arms in some agitation. Behind him lies a cart next to a camp fire on the river bank. He’s shouting in Lunatic for us to stop but I think I detect a Stormy accent.

Breathlessly, he shouts that his son is in the water! We spur our horses and Fatima drives her hearse (after the Beavers pull up the distraught father). By the time we pull up at the bank, we can see a child, no more than seven or eight years old, out in the river, clinging to a branch growing from a submerged islet, a little more than half way across the Moon River, a good sixty yards away.

By now, Rufus has thrown off his hauberk but, still wearing his bronze greaves, he and Bitey fearlessly throw themselves in to the water. I can swim a little but there’s no way I could do what they do, born to the water as they are. Fatima casts Strength on the boy and George casts Coordination on Rufus, but I have no useful magics for this instance. Instead I set to calming the father, assuring him that the Beavers live in the water and are sure to save his son.

It’s hard to see exactly what happens out in the River, but one Beaver holds the child while another bobs out of sight. Then suddenly the branch breaks free and is floating downstream as the other Beaver pulls the boy back to shore. (Later we learn the child, whose name is Simon, was clinging to the branch with inhuman strength – possibly thanks to Fatima’s spell – and Bitey had to gnaw through the branch to get the boy to safety.

The father is a Mercer named Nathaniel Isgard, from Westpoint, a town not far from Salzberg. His cart is carrying barrels of trade goods, of course. Simon is a bit sheepish. As he sets his son’s soaking clothes over the fire to dry, Nathaniel asks us to join them for lunch.

As one Mercer to another, George asks him what he’s carrying and Nathaniel says he has several barrels of oil, which is always in demand in any big city, and one barrel of salt, which appears to impress George greatly. Salt is always valuable but, of course, Salzberg is famed for its salt exports. Nathaniel is heading for Moonguard. He had two guards up to Loonz but they weren’t willing to come any closer (doubtless they were of the Storm persuasion) and Nathaniel didn’t think he’d need them after Loonz.

Surprisingly, in view of the recent rescue and Nathaniel’s warm hospitality, the conversation is a little stilted. In my own defence, I confess that, despite living in the city, my life is, quite literally, cloistered, and I’m still not used to outside contact. But George is a master of interpersonal skills and breaks the ice by relating our experience with last night’s whirlwind.

As we all get ready to go in our separate directions, Nathaniel gifts us with two flasks of oil in gratitude for saving his son.

We resume our journey. Ariella continues her lectures on Chaos lore and I think she’s back to form but we wasted the morning going over our experiences last night and then rescuing Simon and our lunch has eaten a lot of time so we just don’t cover as much ground (metaphorically speaking) as two days ago.

That night we set camp following pointers from Rufus and George, who think a small copse of trees will serve as a useful windbreak. (Though, speaking personally, I’m painfully reminded of that copse outside the cave, from which Finlay launched his final vicious assault.) Once more we set watches – the Beavers choosing to climb a nearby tree during their watch.

I understand the first two watches passed without event but, mid-way through the third watch, Fatima and I both notice, by the light of the crescent Moon, that the Beaver’s tree has developed a very menacing shadow! For a second, I experience a moment of disquiet but then I realise it is just a shadow – doubtless the Moon Goddess playing tricks upon us. No doubt a Selenite might take it as a dire omen but we Azraelites are not given to such flights of fancy.

Windsday, Truthweek, Fireseason, 613

The weather is very nice now and we make excellent progress on this well-maintained road – Ariella was right about that. She continues her lectures and her delivery today is fast-paced and full of information – I really feel I’m getting a grasp of Chaos Lore now.

We make Loonz late afternoon. As we approach we can see it’s a fair-sized town, though not a patch on Moonguard, of course. It is a walled town with no suburbs without the walls, barring a couple of Gypsy camps. That suggests that the citizens don’t want to weaken their defences but the walls themselves are not well maintained and frankly are crumbling in many places – they’re not that high and possibly are meant to have some sort of palisade on top.

Unlike Moonguard, Loonz is entirely south of the Moon River. But we can see a pier and a few low buildings on the far bank. There’s no bridge so if we want to explore north of the River we’ll be taking the ferry. We can see some ruins on the far bank, maybe a century or so old? (Though that’s just guesswork at this distance.)

We join a queue to the city gates. Our neighbours in the queue, a Mercer on his cart in front and a couple of Selenites riding up behind, tell us it’s always like this these days – Selenites and Mercers agree that Loonz takes more than its fair share of taxes in the form of tolls.

As we wait, a man in rich purple robes, leading a dog in one hand and a little girl in the other, works his way up the line. The girl wears a cloth over her eyes portraying her to be without sight, poor thing. The man gives forth an endless litany regarding the evils of riches – “Blessed are those who give unto the poor”; “How wonderful is the sanctity of giving alms versus the spiritual evils of owning hard cash”, etc, etc.

I recognise the Charlatan Order – in my opinion the Charlatans give us monks a bad name. They talk a lot about the evils of money but themselves are very quick to rake in the cash. Ariella points out that the man’s robes are of the richest of fabrics (apparently purple is the most expensive of dies – I did not know that). George says he thinks the dog is being forced to wear a painful collar and the girl isn’t really blind – well what can you expect from an Order devoted to Illusion and Lies. Nonetheless, the Order is surprising popular, especially amongst the poor.

Half an hour later we reach the gate, to be quizzed by the guards. Fatima is heavily questioned regarding her cart but it carries no goods and eventually they wave her through. When it’s my turn I give my name, the length of my stay (two days, possibly more), my business (research on behalf of my Order, the Cyriac priory in Moonguard) – no, I have no Chaos features, though one of my uncles – Bohemond, the black-sheep of his generation – has one, but he’s never vouchsafed the details. The others get grilled the same way – no wonder the queue is so long – but soon enough we’re through.

So, first things first, we need to find a suitable inn – the Raver’s Return? I don’t think so. Then tomorrow I must find an armourer to purchase bronze vambraces and greaves with gems from Finlay’s dragonsnail. Then we hunt for rumours…