There were other reasons I was somewhat glad of the delay, not least of which that it was a relief to be sheltering in the confines of the tent. The light of day outside was making me increasingly nervous, and the fear of being sucked up into the empty space if I looked at it for too long was enough to make even my incorporeal form feel queasy.
I busied myself going through the details of various gnomish vocations and abilities, until the stomp of boots announced the humans’ arrival.
“Let the council commence,” Benin drawled as he entered the tent. “And please gods let today be better than yesterday.”
I bristled at his tone. "Look, I'll admit it's been a less than smooth start—"
"If by 'less than smooth' you mean traumatizing your minions with monsters and near-drowning." Benin chuckled meanly.
"I did what I could. You weren't exactly leaping to help us," I retorted.
"Are you kidding? I was up top with—"
"Now, now," said Bekkit, his tone infuriatingly calm. "Bickering will achieve nothing. We're all in the same boat here—"
"I thought it wasn’t a boat?" I muttered.
"Pardon?"
"Nothing."
The sprite narrowed his eyes at me. I basked in Ket’s silent approval, and took the opportunity to reclaim control of the conversation.
"Okay. We need to figure out where the hell we're going. Bekkit is the only one of us who's done this before, so he'll advise on the best course of action."
Benin took out the maps and began explaining the notes Tiri had made about distances and terrain. I listened carefully, but kept half my attention on what was going on outside.
While we talked, the gnomes outside the tent continued to break camp, rolling up their thatch tents and reloading the carts. Clothiers repaired garments and boots. The two farmers bent lovingly over their soil-filled wheelbarrows, gently probing and watering their precious creations, and doing other gardening-type things.
Warriors from different color groups drilled together in formation, practicing their signaling under the watchful gazes of their drill sergeants Hammer and Graywall. I once again congratulated myself on coming up with that particular innovation. Moral discomfort aside, the Possession ability cost precious mana and took me away from my god's-eye advantage. The signals would limit the time I'd need to spend possessing them, and would make them quicker to respond in emergencies and changes of circumstance.
It had become obvious that adaptability would be the key to our continued survival. With the Possession ability cut off from me completely, it had been a relief to know I could still use Ris'kin or Gneil to communicate with my denizens via the signals. But now, better yet, my night’s study of new vocation information had revealed that those gnomes with a ‘leadership’ vocation—including military officers like my drill sergeants—could be directly instructed to perform the signals via the Augmentary without me needing to go through anyone else.
When I returned my full attention to the council, I was somewhat taken aback to see a couple of the children had wandered in. They stood beside the scattered maps, looking down at the papers.
I thought back to mine and Ket's vague plans to put a barrier around my shrine to protect me from my own people. Does no one in this tribe understand the concept of boundaries?
The younglings were clearly unable to read the unfamiliar symbols, yet they mimicked Benin's body language as if they were. One stroked his chin thoughtfully, while the other folded her arms and hunched her shoulders, frowning at the map. I could tell the mage was ever so slightly affronted by this, but was doing his best to ignore them.
Recalling my own past desire to set impertinent gnomes on fire, and knowing how readily available that option was to this particular human, I nudged Ris'kin to remove the children from the tent.
I needn't have bothered. As Ris'kin moved toward the tent's entrance, Emrys came marching in through it. The nurse looked stern, his bald forehead set into a stony frown.
The juveniles gulped when they saw him. Emrys raised his eyebrows at them and pointed at the tent flap. They jumped to their feet and scurried outside, heads bowed in contrition. Emrys—a former warrior, I recalled—snapped a sharp salute and followed the two children from the tent. I heard him barking orders the instant he was outside.
Coll seemed impressed. "Little guy might be a short-ass, but that's a serious pair of lungs he has on him."
"A pity we can't understand one another," Benin murmured, as if to himself.
Coll's face lit up. "That would be amazing. We could teach each other swear words!"
"Yes, the possibilities for social betterment are beyond imagining," said the mage dryly.
My attention was still on the open tent flap, through which I caught sight of one of the scouts striding past.
Since they’d been wearing it out in the open, the wrinkly mole-rat armor had undergone a sort of curing process, turning darker and tougher and even more unsightly, something I’d have thought to be impossible. The material’s enhanced toughness offered even more protection to its wearer. It also brought each scout’s resemblance to a walking chorizo to impressive new levels. I was about to point this out to Ket when Benin, whose eyes were also on the scout, spoke.
“I keep meaning to ask: what in the flames are your scouts wearing?”
“Armor,” I said shortly.
He snorted. “Made from…?”
“Mole-rat hides.”
“Explains why it’s so ugly. They look like walking ballsacks.”
He was right. But only I was allowed to say that. “It might be ugly, but it’s functional,” I told him.
“And what about your scavengers? Your clothesmakers? They’re decked out in all kinds of weird shit. Is that functional?” He laughed. “I swear I’ve never seen such freaky fashion sense.”
“They’re just expressing themselves,” I said hotly. Ket smirked.
Bekkit cleared his throat. "Back to the matter at hand. If we keep traveling north-north-west as straight as we can go, we should reach the outer boundary of the circled area within thirty days."
"How long did you say we have left?" asked Benin.
"Thirty-nine
