My stomach was indeed rumbling, despite the talk of vomit, so I filled it as quickly as I could and rejoined Braylar.
He said nothing at first, staring straight ahead. But finally, “You know more than you should already. Be oh so careful with that. Knowledge is a often a very dangerous thing.”
I had no idea how to properly respond. Who would I tell? I wasn’t even sure what had really happened, so I didn’t know what I could tell even if there was someone tempting offering their ear. I would surely be thought a madman. Maybe the fact I was starting to believe all of this made me one already.
Braylar handed me the flask and said, “Oh, light the lantern again without my permission and Lloi won’t be the only one missing pieces.” I took the flask and nodded. He added, “But thank you for keeping watch over me. You could’ve taken a horse and left. That would’ve been sensible. Most would have. So… thank you for staying.”
Even if it meant getting more exchanges with threats laced with strange praise, it was good to have Braylar back from wherever he’d disappeared to.
Several hours later Lloi emerged, looking not much better, but arguing that she was ready to scout some more. Braylar was reluctant to let her go. But she pointed out that we’d already encountered more in the grass than we wanted to. And so off she went.
However, she returned sooner than expected. Hearing her approach, I hopped over the bench as Lloi reined up. Braylar looked past her to the horizon, his hand on Bloodsounder. “Report.”
She rolled her head around slowly on her neck, complying only just before he was about to dress her down. “Couple of wagons. Heading in this general kind of direction, though a little more on the northerly side. Easy enough to slip around them.”
Braylar stopped scanning the horizon and turned his full attention to her. “Hostile? Or accompanied by rippers, dragons, wraiths, or anything else unsavory that you might neglect to tell us about?”
She shrugged. “Not that I seen. Watched them file past before doubling back this way. Small wagons, a handful of folk on foot. Walking staffs about the only weapon I could see.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “Does all of the grassland get this much traffic, or did you just pick the most popular route?”
“Can’t say what they’re doing out this way. Besides inviting attack, that is. But I don’t see them causing trouble for no one. Still, you wanted to know what’s ahead to avoid what you could, so I’m telling you what’s ahead. If you want to steer clear, just redirect a bit more to-”
He held up a hand. “How much smaller are the wagons?”
Lloi took her cap off her head, spun it around on her nubby hand. “Can’t say for a certainty. Didn’t creep up and measure it. Both shorter than this rig, but while one was pulled by two horse, the other was hooked onto four, so while I can’t speculate as to total length, couldn’t have been too poor a comparison.”
He lowered his hand and nodded slowly, as if consenting to his own plan. “Lead us to them.”
Lloi stopped spinning her cap. “Captain Noose?”
“You heard me.”
She stood in her stirrups. “It won’t be no problem to skirt around them. Won’t even lose much in the way of time. We-”
“We go, Lloi. Now.”
Lloi filled her cheeks with air and then exhaled long and slow. “You’re the captain, captain.”
“Sometimes I wonder.” He pointed at the horizon. “Lead on.”
She did. A few hours later, with dusk not far out, I saw a pair of wagons. Closer still, I made out people walking in front and behind, some riding on mules. All told, there appeared to be a half dozen or so. When we closed the distance enough to make out these details, the procession stopped where they were, directly in our path some distance ahead.
I’d seen many caravans in many cities, particularly Rivermost, and if this was a caravan, it was the shabbiest and most poorly protected in the known world. They also didn’t comport themselves like soldiers of any kind, just as Lloi had indicated.
All those in the wagons were adults, almost evenly split male to female. They were a variety of ages, and disparate in dress. Two had simple tunics and robes, made from rough and patched linens. The others had belts and fine pouches. There was no silk or velvet or telltale signs of nobility, but it was clear servants and yeomen walked among merchants.
Braylar said “Pilgrims” under his breath with the same amount of disdain he might have used for lepers or cockroaches.
When we were about thirty feet away, Braylar pulled the reins and we came to a stop. Some of the pilgrims exchanged whispers and glances, and then a woman approached us. She was short and stout and had three chins that I counted, and her grooved face was shaded in a ridiculously wide-brimmed floppy hat. She had garters on her hose, buttons on her dress, and a lovely bag hanging from her belt. While not wealthy, she was no peasant. Probably the lady of a small household somewhere, and the others her retainers.
Lloi was riding alongside us. She pushed her shapeless hat around on her head. “Just like I said. Nobody more dangerous than a mole rat.”
The woman carried herself with confidence as she approached us, a huge smile on her face. I wondered how she managed such abundant friendliness considering the grim visage of the man she was about to address, but the smile seemed genuine, if a bit oversized.
She raised an arm and waved, looked at the three of us, eyes pausing momentarily on Lloi, and then she said, “Greetings, travelers! Well met. I’m Jebaneeza, sometimes called Jebaneeza Wrong Hand.” I realized then that she’d waved with her left hand. “I don’t mind this address-in fact, I rather like it-so you may call me as such. If it pleases you, of course.” I didn’t imagine it was possible, but her smile seemed to grow as she said this, and the wrinkles deepened around her eyes.
She seemed pleasant, especially after sharing mile after silent mile with my patron; it occurred to me that under different circumstances I’m sure I would have grown to like her.
Jebaneeza waited for us to introduce ourselves. I looked at Braylar, and he was looking at everything before him-the wagon, the people standing around it, their clothing-critically, measuring, in that cold and distant way of his. I began to feel uneasy.
He looked at her. “Wrong Hand, eh? It’s a shame that bynames are so often filled with malice or cruelty, yes? It’s good you’ve come to terms with yours. How is it you find yourself traveling among the grasses?”
Her smile shrank a size or two, and her eyes didn’t seem quite as merry as they had, but she kept on as if she were speaking to a long-time friend. “We’re on a pilgrimage. My companions and I, that is. There’s a shrine in the center of the Green Sea, devoted to-”
“This shrine of yours,” Braylar leaned forward, “it’s made of grass and sod, yes?”
Jebaneeza shook her head. “Oh it isn’t mine. No, no. It belongs to anyone who would visit. And as for the grass, I’ve never seen it before, but one of my companions has, although I don’t recall him commenting on the construction. Hmm. Sod. Seems a shame to construct a shrine out of sod, but I suppose there aren’t many alternatives in the Green Sea, are there?”
Braylar lost none of his grimness. “There are no alternatives. And it’s not the center.”
She tilted her head back to get a better look at him, and I noticed her eyes were of the skyiest blue. She said, “I’m sorry, I don’t quite follow you. The center?”
“Of the Green Sea. The shrine isn’t in the center. We passed it only a few days back.”
It took me a moment to realize what he was referring to; I hadn’t considered that the ramshackle building might be a shrine, and I was surprised he’d been cognizant at all during that time.
Jebaneeza’s smile returned to its unnatural size once more. “Delightful! Oh, when you asked about the sod, I assumed you hadn’t seen it either. You’ve seen it, then? Of course you have, you just told me as much. And is it glorious then?”
Braylar smiled, neither pleasant nor attractive. “If you consider sod glorious, it is most glorious.”
There was a silence that seemed to comfort none of us save Braylar, and she broke it to say, “Well. It’s close then? Good. That is good. I imagined we had quite a distance yet to go.” This was followed by more silence.
I thought I might retrieve her smile by saying, “It’s surprisingly well put together. Considering the material. It’s simple, but elegant, if a bit in disrepair.”
