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Unfortunately, while we were busy concerning ourselves with dangers from deities, we neglected to consider a more mundane risk. After walking around with Irvish and Rushi, I decided to return to the inn to drop off some purchases, and on my way back to meet up with Rushi and Mervish for a late lunch at a particularly fine smelling restaurant, a bag was thrust over my head, and I was dumped into the back of a foul smelling cart. The cart trundled slowly out of town, while my unknown attackers muffled my cries by surrounding me with bags of goods and argued with each other loudly to cover whatever screams might have penetrated.
We traveled for several hours. After we were well outside Arcana Sitol, my attackers pulled the bag off my head, in order to tie me up more securely. I struggled, to no good effect. They slapped me around, to no good effect. They could pick me up, and even knock me down, but they rapidly discovered they couldn't directly attack me. I briefly wondered what would happen if they dropped me over the edge of a cliff and decided I did not want to find out. I could tell from the sun that we were traveling northwest. The cart was not on a road, or even a path, but rather a track. We reached the low hills that extended north of Wereport, and ended near Radeport. I knew that between Radeport and Wereport, these hills contained mines. The cart eventually stopped in front of what were either played out mines or natural caves. I for one could not tell. They untied my feet, and marched me into the caves. They had some candles, but it took a long time for their eyes to adjust. Despite the fact that I was the one with hands tied behind her back, I kept my footing more reliably than anyone else in the group. We passed through a series of small caves, and stopped. This cave, larger than the earlier ones, had a meager camp set up in it. A hole in the rock ceiling allowed at least part of the smoke from the cooking fire to escape, but it was not easy to breathe. They sat me down two paces from the fire, and told me to stay put.
A conference between my captors and their compatriots who had remained in the caves while my captors made a foray into Arcana Sitol ensued. Like many of the discussions my friends and I have had, this one was interminable, characterized by pointless repetition, miscommunication, and differing opinions. Unlike discussions with my friends, these people, and I use the term loosely, thought it good form to brandish weapons to reinforce their arguments. A consensus emerged that a message should be sent back to my friends, demanding a ransom.
I was surprised, although I should not have been, to discover that the nature of the message was next debated. At long last, they settled upon a wording, simple and to the point: "Give us all your treasure, or we send you the rest of your friend." The plan was to send part of me to accompany the message.
A thinking person would have expected what happened next: they debated what part of me to send. The hard core element of the crowd felt that whatever part was sent must be identifiable. To them, that meant the head. Everyone else sensibly believed that if they sent my head, the reaction of my friends would be to come fully armed, possibly with the Arcanae Watch. The hard core pointed out that if they sent something else, say, a hand or a leg, it could have come from anyone. Some of the rest said perhaps I had identifying marks on my body. They could send the part that had an identifying mark. I told them that no one in the party had seen me naked, and I had no obviously identifying marks on my arms or ankles. It wouldn't matter what was on the rest of my body; no one knew what it looked like so it wouldn't help identify me. They did not believe me, vehemently asserting that traveling companions regularly bathe naked together or are promiscuous to a fault.
They stripped my clothes off, and discovered, as I knew they would, the ridiculous snake whose tail was at the base of my spine, circled my body twice, its head, complete with forked tongue, between my breasts. That provided a topic of conversation that took them through dinner and well into the night. The hard core element next suggested that they send my torso instead. The rest of the group was by now getting very annoyed. They again pointed out that if they cut off, or, more correctly, out my torso, again, I would obviously be dead, and my friends would not send money. A minute search of all the more disposable parts of my body was then conducted, concluding, as I had known it must, that there were no interesting identifying marks anywhere on me. Other than that snake.
I was allowed to dress again, and they even untied me long enough to let me do so, all the while keeping daggers pointed at my throat. I briefly considered running, but knew they could overpower me. Since we were in the hills, I was more concerned than ever about being dropped off a cliff. Also I was beginning to believe, just a little bit, in my own invulnerability to ordinary attack. Furthermore, I was sure my friends would eventually think to track the lines connecting them to me, and rescue me. After they do so, Jack will probably accuse me of saying I knew they would, so I'm writing this down now, to prove I knew how they would rescue me, before they actually do.
After dinner, the criminals started drinking. That got me worried again, as I was not certain my invulnerability extended to protection from rape. However, I need not have worried, as they were more involved in their ongoing debate about what part of me to send to my friends. They eventually convinced the hard core that there was nothing identifiable about my body that they could send, so they'd have to content themselves with anything at all, and maybe some of my clothing to reinforce the message. They settled on my undergarments, as the items least likely to be stolen from someone, and therefore the most convincing of a genuine kidnapping. And shortly before midnight, they settled on the smallest finger on my right hand.
I admit, I felt a frisson of fear as they approached me, knife in hand, intending to remove one of my digits. They untied my hands, placed my right hand on the floor, and took a whack at the pinky. The knife bounced. They decided that Slammy, the man who was wielding the knife, had missed. Doofus was designated the official finger remover. He took a more deliberate approach, sawing at the pinky with the knife. He made no progress. Doofus escalated to a larger knife. A close inspection was made of my hand, and then the rest of my body, for protective devices that might explain their inability to even scratch the skin. Nothing was found. I told them there was nothing to find. Doofus then got his sword. He swung at the finger. He dented his blade. He swore. The boss of the crew, imaginatively named Boss, but not the same as the Boss of the thieves, angrily pushed Doofus out of the way, and, approaching with the largest axe available, took a swing at my finger.
Realistically, with an attitude like that, and a weapon that size, one does not aim at the finger. Had Boss succeeded, I'd be out one hand, possibly most of the forearm as well. Boss failed dramatically. The axe, swung with great force and anger, hit the shield around my hand. At the moment of impact, my hand felt warm, as if I were wearing winter gloves on a hot summer day. The axe head separated from the handle, flew through the air, striking Giant, who howled with pain. The howl ended with a thud, as Giant collapsed unconscious.
The criminals decided that getting a body part from me was more trouble than it was worth. Boss said that since one couldn't tell where a finger came from anyway, the finger didn't need to come from me. Anyone about the same size and color would do. He pointed a finger at the most slightly built of the group, named Fingers. Fingers held up his left hand, displaying a total of three digits. The two small fingers were missing. He said something like, "Nyah, nyah, nyah. I don't have a left pinky, so there." Boss, however, didn't care which finger. After a chase and a struggle, Boss was triumphant, sort of. Fingers was dead, and Doofus was delegated to remove a finger, and deliver it with the written message, to my companions.
At this point, the party realized that they did not have paper, and, furthermore, the only person in the group who knew how to read and write was Fingers, who they had just killed. Doofus pointed at me, saying that I could read and write and had paper, pen and ink. They untied me once again, and I scrawled a message, although not the one they intended. I wrote a description of the size and abilities of the party, our location, and what I had seen of the rest of the caves. Doofus departed with the paper, after I gave him directions to Keziah's inn about four times. I didn't think it could hurt, and I thought they must surely be well on their way to the caves by now anyway, and would stop him before he got too far.
The group settled in for a nap, awaiting the return of Doofus. I thought that was convenient. Boss did make sure I was securely tied before going to sleep. At least he tried. I had discovered, in the course of being tied and untied repeatedly, that I could expand the strands of force around me at will, and localize the expansion. This time, I made my wrists larger. When they were asleep, I contracted my shield and slipped out of my bonds.
I gave some thought about what to do next. If I left, I had a long walk in the last, coldest hours of the night, wearing inadequate clothing, with no food or water, and Doofus to look forward to along the road. In addition to being much more readily overpowered than I had realized, I didn't want to take anything from these characters. They were filthy, and I remembered Rushi's sickness in Axton all too well. Better exhausted, hungry and thirsty than immobilized by vomiting and diarrhea. If I stayed, I took my chances with what these folks would do to me until my rescue arrived. So far, that looked like the best option.
Alternatively, I could sneak further back into the caves and find a place to hide. I figured my friends could readily overpower my kidnappers. Assuming they were tracking me through Joe, they would have no difficulty finding me in the caves. In retrospect, that was a real flaw in my thinking: I knew from the experiment at Esther's with Mervish that the lines connecting me to my friends were straight. Caves tend not to be. However, I was tired, hungry and thirsty. I wasn't thinking.
I decided to explore the cave system further. I crept through the largest tunnel at the back of the cave in which my captors were sleeping. Once around a curve, I worried less about being heard, and more about making progress. I did have the presence of mind to count my steps, and every time I was presented with a choice of caverns, I noted on a page of my journal which one I took. I at least wanted to be able to find my way back out.
I wasn't certain, but I thought, as I moved lower into the earth, that the turns I took were southerly in direction. A few times, I thought I heard voices, and looked around for places to hide. I learned quickly that not all caves offer opportunities for concealment, and started paying attention to those which did not, crossing them as quickly as possible, moving more quietly through those which offered hiding places. The voices faded eventually. I concluded that either the walls were conducting speech unusually well in places, or the corridors bent back over and above one another, and I was hearing voices of people immediately above or below me, through cracks in the rock.
After walking for about two hours, I came to a stone table in the corridor. It was stacked with food: fresh baked bread, some vegetables, a lot of mushrooms, cheese, dried meat, wine, beer, water, honey, salt and fruits. An engraved price list was posted above the table, with a divided tray beneath it. The tray already contained coins, neatly separated by value. I waited a while, but saw no one. I concluded that this must be a food stand run on the honor system. As my captors had stripped me and dressed me, but never thought to examine my clothing carefully, they hadn't found any of my money. To be fair, I had learned shortly after becoming unemployed to conceal my valuables about my body, distributing the weight as evenly as possibly, in pockets and pouches which would escape a casual search. I ate a hearty meal, scrupulously paying the correct amount, and drank as much water as I could stand. I bought extra bread, cheese and dried fruit, wrapping them in my coat. Across the corridor from the stand were two small doorways with fabric drawn across them. Worked into the fabric of one was the symbol we'd grown accustomed to seeing in the towns and cities south of Crossville, indicating a publicly maintained latrine. The other was the symbol for a bathhouse. One thing my travels south had taught me: the land ruled by the Divarae was civilized and kindly to its peoples, catering to their needs.
Basic needs attended to, I tied up the arms of my coat as a handle and continued along the corridor. I saw another stand and latrine several hours later, and decided to nap near them, in hopes that someone would pass who I could ask for directions.
The nap turned into a full night's sleep. When I woke up, I looked at the table, torn between hoping for a change that would indicate someone else in the tunnels who might help me, and hoping I had not missed what might be my only chance for assistance. The table had not been replenished. Unwilling to wait any longer, I ate another meal and continued. My last several turns, if my sense of direction were worth anything at this point, were in a southwesterly direction. The slope had flattened and the tunnel had straightened. The walls were smooth. The ground was without crack, break or flaw. Without any light at all, I could have run at full speed down that corridor, without any fear of tripping. With a finger on each wall to guide me, I could even be sure I wouldn't slam into a wall. I did not believe for one minute that this section of the cave system was natural.
The food and latrine sections in this area were recessed into the walls. Shortly after one such stand, I saw an opening to another room. I paused to look around within it. Sleeping in the room was a huge, scaled being, with four legs and what might have been atrophied wings. The scales were missing in some places, revealing wrinkly, patchy skin. I suppose it must have been extremely old.
As I stared at it, awed and wondering at the majesty of such a creature, it woke up. It rolled an eye at me and yawned hugely. Its breath was foul, and I could see why: it had a rotten tooth about midway back on the right side of the lower jaw. I said hello, and waited for a response. It looked me over, then asked if I knew any dentistry. I said I had no formal training, but had removed one of my own teeth when it had rotted, and had done the same for a fox once in my youth. I added that I didn't have any tools with me. It said not to worry, and nodded to a corner at the back of the room. Piled there were a large number of skeletons, picked clean, but still surrounded by the bits and pieces of their arms and armor. I asked if I might take a closer look at the tooth before I selected the most appropriate tool. The beast obligingly opened wide. After wetting a kerchief and wrapping it around my nose, I leaned into its mouth. The tooth was nearly loose already. I thought I might be able to remove it by hand, but that an axe-handle, sharpened and used to pry, might cause less pain. I stepped back, and went to the pile, telling the beast what I was looking for. It directed me to a spot where there were a number of axes. I used one to hack off the handle of another, and then to sharpen the end.
When I was satisfied, I returned to the beast. I explained that this was likely to hurt, and asked if the beast thought it could keep its mouth open, as if it snapped shut, I wouldn't be able to finish the job. The beast harrumphed and said of course it could keep its mouth open. I asked if I could place a foot in the mouth, to get a better angle on the tooth. It said that if I could place it at an angle on the slope in back of the front teeth, that it probably wouldn't be too much of a problem. I gave that a try, and it mumbled what sounded like encouragement. I inserted the handle. A gust of foul air whipped past me, along with a discouraging moan. Determined to help this poor creature, I shoved the handle in, yanked it over as quickly as possible, then jumped clear with it.
I was just in time. The creature, howling in pain, snapped its jaws shut. I rolled out of the way. It thrashed around for a moment or two, before regaining control enough to realize it might have hurt me. It begged forgiveness, hoping I was okay. I said I was fine, and asked if it wanted me to have a look to see if I'd gotten the whole thing. It said, yes, please, apologizing abjectly for having broken its earlier promise. I said, not to worry, no one could possibly have stood that pain. I'd suffered no injury. I took a look, and the tooth was indeed extracted. A small amount of blood had welled up into the hole. Most of the flesh looked healthy, but some had blackened. I asked the creature if it wanted that cut free. It asked me to, if I could possibly trust it again. I said if it would wait one moment, I'd go get some wine to anesthetize the area first. It said it would pay, and directed me to another pile, with all the gold that had formerly been attached to the skeletons, neatly stacked. I got enough to buy a small keg of wine, and trotted down the corridor to retrieve it. I put the coins down, making sure I'd given enough, and took the half keg. I trotted back to the room, and poured some of the wine onto the area. The creature swallowed the rest. I returned the keg to the table, as I was sure it wasn't included in the price, and returned.
By the time I came back, the creature was happy, and not feeling much pain. It did, however, retain enough sense to keep its mouth open. I got the sharpest short sword I could find, and removed all of the blackening skin. Blood flowed more freely, and the creature licked the area clean. I asked the creature if any of its attackers had by any chance been caring healing salves or potions on them. The creature giggled, if something that size can be said to giggle, and said that anyone smart enough and rich enough to carry around medical equipment was not likely to come to its attention. I asked what that meant.
The creature went on to explain that it was responsible for maintaining and guarding the service stations. Its compatriots were hidden near every one I had passed. Smaller folk, who had less trouble navigating the corridors, delivered goods and picked up money, but the monsters were the enforcers. I asked why I hadn't seen any before, and it said because usually a concealed door hid the entrance to their rooms. They watched over the stations through peep holes in the price list. Those caught stealing money or food, or shorting the station, found themselves surrounded by traps ranging from hidden bows and arrows, poisoned or otherwise, pits, traps and, of course, the creatures themselves. My new friend's door was opened, not because anyone had pilfered, but because he needed assistance and had hoped I could provide it.
In exchange for my services, my friend gave me a piece of paper, instructing me to display it prominently in front of the price list, and wait for an audible acknowledgement. I wasn't to leave it behind anywhere. I looked it over, and it was a VIP pass, good for free food and beverage at all service stations run by Kathmandu Consolidated. I asked if any of the service stations were run by anyone else. My friend thought about that briefly, and said, no, KC owned the concession for all the tunnels around Kathmandu. I pointed out that the VIP pass was not dated. My friend chuckled and said, of course not. Everything had to last a long time around Kathmandu to be worth anything at all. My friend wouldn't explain, saying I'd find out soon enough, and I would have more fun discovering it on my own. It gave its name as Calliope, and wished me luck on my journey. Calliope put its head back down, and started snoring almost immediately. I took that as dismissal and left. The door closed behind me. I could not find it in the wall thereafter.
Two service stations past Calliope, I stopped to bathe. The water was warm; I assume it must be heated by the warmth within the earth. The wall along and above the bath slid open, and a creature resembling Calliope, but with no missing scales and generally more youthful-looking, poked its head in. I was startled, but I think my intruder was even more surprised. After a moment of looking each other over, it introduced itself as Rodesta. It begged pardon for intruding, saying it had not heard me bathing. It said I was a lot quieter than most travelers. All too many of the human travelers who ventured through the tunnels had a habit of making a lot of noise in the bath. I asked what kind of noise, and Rodesta said there were two kinds. The solitary bathers uniformly sang, often off key, always at volume. The more companionable bathers generally grunted, groaned or screamed. I thought about that for a moment, and apologized for the disruptions my race inflicted on Rodesta. Rodesta said not to worry, it knew I wasn't to blame. After all, I was so quiet, it hadn't even realized I was there. I asked Rodesta what Rodesta had been about to do, and Rodesta said the tub filled a dual purpose as a water dish for it. It explained that it had access to flush controls, and emptied and refill the tub before taking a drink, and also after each traveler. I expressed my appreciation of the facilities provided by Kathmandu Consolidated, and Rodesta said it would relay that to the management. Rodesta bid me good traveling, and departed. The door slid shut behind it, and, as with the entrance to Calliope's lair, I could not see the seam after. Kathmandu employed some amazing engineers.
One service station later, I saw sunlight diffusing into the caves. Some came through slits in the rock walls on one side. More came through overhead openings. Eventually, the tunnel opened up into a small room, which contained exits to other rooms, and the outdoors.
I stepped out. I was on a ledge about the width of the tunnels. A winding path, partly ramped, partly cut into stairs, led from the ledge up to the summit of the hill I had been within. I should call it a mountain. It had a snowcap even now, in early summer. The path also led down to the base of the hill. I sat down on the ledge, taking in the spectacular view before me. To my left and right, the hill I was on was met by hills of comparable size. A total of five hills circled a valley below. The hills were all steep. The passes between them were above the snow line. I could not imagine traveling to this valley overland.
The valley floor was about the size of Artana and the market gardens surrounding it. Unlike that fine city, the valley was not built up. From my vantage point, high above the valley, it was difficult to see whether that was because the valley was uninhabited, sparsely inhabited, extensively inhabited by dwellers in caves, or inhabited by folk who lived out of doors.
Judging by the tunnel system and Calliope's remarks, the valley was inhabited. The rest I would have to discover. I started picking my way down the hillside. I saw other caves and tunnels which exited onto my path. I explored two, briefly, finding little to distinguish them from the one I had already exited. I restricted myself to counting exits thereafter, so I would have some chance of finding my way back.
Halfway to the valley floor, I heard voices coming from the caves. I climbed above the exit, to get a view of whoever came before they saw me. I have no excuse for not thinking clearly, but I hadn't seen anyone other than Calliope and Rodesta for over two days. I was jumpy. The voices stopped. It sounded like the party had stopped just inside the cave. I inched my head over the edge to peer in, and found myself eye to eye with Jack. Startled, I screamed, and fell from my perch.
I dropped down to the ledge, rolling. Jack tried to grab me, but only succeeded in ripping part of my coat off. I rolled right off the ledge. At this point on the path, the stairs continued down the side of the hill some three hundred or so feet before gently sloping into a proper path again. I got to find out what happened when I fall off a cliff. To cut a harrowing experience short, I didn't. Fall, that is.
I hung in the thin, cold air, flailing about for something solid. The only effect my thrashing had was to push me further away from the ledge. An updraft along the cliff also pushed me above the ledge a few feet. Leroy kindly brought this to my attention, as everyone settled on the ledge to watch. They did not look like a friendly audience. They looked tired and frazzled and extremely angry. With me. Despite the fact that I was suspended in midair over a fatal drop. I asked Jack or Leroy or anyone to throw me a rope. Jack wanted to know what I needed a rope for, since obviously I could fly. I informed him, perhaps a bit harshly, that I was not flying, merely not falling. Leroy commented, unhelpfully, that that was the real trick to flying. I did not honor that specious remark with a reply.
Jack said he'd toss me a rope after I'd explained why I had allowed myself to be kidnapped. I reminded him that he'd given me little enough choice, two or more months ago in Laurel. Predictably, the rest of the group, unaware of how I came to be traveling with Jack, wanted to know what I was talking about, or said things like, "What's she babbling on about this time?" Leroy summarized. Jack waited patiently. I waited impatiently. When Leroy finished, and the ensuing questions which had no ready answers were squelched, Jack said he meant why I had not defended myself against the crowd of common criminals who had led them on a merry chase.
I asked if they were still alive. Rushi said they'd found two and killed them the first day after I went missing. They'd found the rest, already dead, while tracking me down. They took this opportunity to go on a tirade about how much of a chore it had been to track a straight line through very not straight tunnels. None of my kidnappers had made it more than a dozen paces past the first service station. I was not surprised. My friends had seen no monsters, no rooms other than the latrines and the baths, and the chambers at tunnel ends and tunnel junctions.
In exchange for this news, I explained my kidnapping and subsequent escape. Jack protested that one good fireball would have taken care of all of them. I protested that I did not know how to throw fireballs. Besides, I could hardly throw a fireball with my head in a bag, nor could I throw a fireball in a small enclosed cave. I'd get singed for sure. Jack asked if I had even tried. I said no. He said, do this, and flicked his right forefinger off his right thumb. I did so, at him. A fist-sized ball of flame traveled between us and diffused in front of his face. He looked puzzled. I said see, what good would that have done. With an expression that looked like a combination of pity and disgust, he tossed me a rope. I reeled myself in.
The usual debate broke out, this time between whether to travel back the way I had come, the way everyone else had come, some third exploratory route, to travel to the top of this mountain, traverse a pass, or travel to the valley floor. A lack of interest in dealing with snow and ice eliminated traveling up or over a pass. An interest in finding out who lived in a valley accessible only by amazingly well-constructed and maintained tunnels argued against leaving. We headed down the path.
It took all day to reach the valley floor. We ducked into caves along the way to get fresh supplies. Once we reached the valley floor, we camped for the night.
Andy, the rest of the party has asked that I represent them in this matter. They feel that what they view as my special knowledge and training in spiritual matters will enable me to tell you in a way that you can understand that they are disappointed and angry with you. Not to put too fine a point on it, you really let us all down when you escaped from your kidnappers and chose to push on through the tunnel system, rather than return to us or await our arrival. What they are unwilling to say, however, I'm real clear on: you betrayed us. I know what betrayal feels like, because my god betrayed me. I survived that, and I'm going to survive you, too, but I just want to let you know that we are disappointed in you, and it isn't as if our expectations were that high to begin with. You can hide behind that tired old excuse of "they kidnapped me" for just as long as you like, but don't kid yourself into thinking any of us believe it for one minute. We're depending upon your protection to keep us alive. Juvenile gestures which suggest that we can't rely on that protection are impossible to ignore and hard to forgive.
In the morning, after reading what Rushi had to say in my journal, I crawled off in a corner for a while to cool off and consider what to do next. I decided to apologize, and did so. It had not occurred to me that they would think my disappearance meant the loss of my protection. I still protect Vira, though she is far away to the north, don't I? I didn't mean to frighten everyone. Everyone was very gracious, and Rushi went so far as to embrace me and kiss both my cheeks. However, I still don't feel I have had a lot of choice in this adventure, and what I really wanted was some time alone and the chance to make some of my own decisions again. That's just going to have to wait until after we deal with Squiddie. So be it.
Marion and Joe were in human form once again. Rested, we looked around before following the path, which led into the valley. We were not surrounded by crops, or orchards, or gardens. At least, what was surrounding us didn't obviously resemble the organized rows we were accustomed to marking planned cultivation of vegetation for consumption. But the trees were mostly fruit bearing. Intermingled were evergreens. Even in winter, there would be some shelter. We also saw cottonwood and willow, and other shady trees. The path was fenced, and the fences were covered with vines. Close inspection of the vines suggested that they were all flowering, and some would bear fruit. The valley floor was a mecca for butterflies. We were used to seeing the commoner flying insects -- flies in dung on the road; moths when we had a flame at night; mosquitoes when near still water. We had seen a few butterflies among the gardens around the cities we had traveled to and through. But this valley made me wonder if whoever maintained it had a yen for butterflies and planted accordingly.
As we traveled along the path, which was level, and free of holes, I also started to notice the profusion of birds. Instead of a lot of crows, which we saw in even the best kept cities, and a few robins and starlings, this valley had everything from hawks to hummingbirds. We passed small houses. They were built of stone, with thatch roofs. The walk to the door from the path was maintained as well as the path itself. Domesticated birds and small animals roamed around the house, within fenced areas. We saw more than just the usual chickens, rabbits, goats, sheep, donkeys, mules, cows and horses. There were four footed beasts of burden, furry and long-necked, which looked accustomed to cold, rocky hills. We saw partridges and quail, geese, swans and ducks. At no point did we see any of the geese fly. They waddled in and out of the water and covered the grass alongside. After seeing how many they were, and that they ate grass, I looked down at my feet and spotted the tell-tale green droppings. I tried to scrape them off my feet, but had difficulty finding uncontaminated grass for that purpose.
We saw cats and dogs and even a few snakes sunning on rockery. The plants surrounding the houses were only slightly more organized than the ones along the road. The entire valley was under cultivation, to one purpose or another. I marvelled at the time it would take an area to develop to this degree, and in this fashion. What kind of people have the perspective to create such a slow-paced paradise? I could not envision living in this land myself, not after having had a taste of adventuring, but to return to visit could not help but refresh the most tired soul. Yet the area had none of the familiar attributes of resort or recreational towns. We saw a few folk around the houses. Most looked human, although some had the shimmer of werekind. A few looked part-elven. We saw one dwarf, and a small crowd of gnomes. No one made an effort to talk to us, and all were occupied. We continued along the path.
Around noon, we arrived in a village, consisting of about a dozen buildings, with houses scattered around the center. Beyond the far side of the town, we saw only grassy fields, with no trees, and a lake. There were no buildings in the fields, or around the lake, except where the town abutted the lake. I pointed this out. Marion shaded her eyes against the noon sun, and peered upward. I asked her what she was looking for. She said dragons. I asked, why dragons. She said, just grass and a lake. That's a great place for dragons. No people where you might expect people. That only happens where there are powerful wizards, nasty gods, or dragons. I can't see gods, and wizards tend to be scrawny. So I'm looking for dragons.
She made a good case, so the rest of us started peering at the sky as well. We didn't see any, although we spotted a collection of waterfowl.
After a few minutes of this, an innkeeper came out, took a look at us, and looked up at the sky as well. After a moment or two, the innkeeper asked us where the dragon was. We said we hadn't seen one yet. He breathed an audible sigh of relief, and said, glad to hear it. For a minute there, I thought another one had started flying. That's an awkward stage. So difficult to influence a dragon that has just learned to fly.
The innkeeper bore a strong resemblance to Elizabeth's cook Donald. The man's name was Sang. I asked if there was any relation, and he thought for a moment, smiled enigmatically, and said, yes. He wouldn't elaborate any further, but instead invited us in. Before we accepted, we explained where we had come from, and what risks Sang might be taking by giving us shelter. He shrugged, and said he was not concerned. He asked if we'd had any trouble in the tunnels. We said no. He said fine, and offered us a series of suites below the cellars. We learned that the tunnel system extended beneath the entire valley. Sang thought perhaps Squiddie's powers did not extend below ground. As long as we stayed under ground, we might be safe. It sounded worth a try.
Sang's cooking was fantastic. It was a great relief to have a cooked, hot meal again, after several days of bread and raw fruits, vegetables and dried meats. Replete, we decided not to travel further, but to find out first what was the name of this town, and where we were with respect to the world outside the tunnels under the mountains, and if there were other towns in the valley.
From Sang, we learned we were in Nepaliq. It was one of five villages. The others were Nepaliu, Nepalid, Nepalit and Nepalic. One was near the base of each mountain. Near the center of the valley was a larger town. There were no cities to speak of. Sang did not answer our question of where we were, and he did not offer us a map, or indicate that he had one, other than for the valley floor itself. He did have one of the valley floor, and he let us take a look at that, but did not offer us a copy. I sketched a copy into my journal. He recommended that we travel the next day to the town near the center of the valley, called Kathmandu. He also indicated that we could travel underground, from this inn, to Kathmandu, and drew us a map of which tunnels to take. He asked us to stay underground, for our safety, and the safety of the valley.
His request was not unreasonable. However, we did not look forward to still more tunnels, especially when the land above the tunnels was so restful and easy to look at. However, in the interests of not angering a people rich, powerful, and involved with dragons, we decided to accede. After a few hours of loafing and napping, however, we were bored, and asked Sang if he objected to our starting for Kathmandu today. He did not, and offered us a large picnic, packed in several baskets. He gave us a name and address to drop the baskets and cutlery off in when we reached our destination. Sang is no slouch. He knew how we'd react to being stuck in town.
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Copyright Rebecca Allen, 1999.
Created: July 8, 2012 Updated: July 8, 2012