Julina of Blackstone - 085 - A Long Way on a Long Day

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The Journey starts with something of a rush

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Julina of Blackstone
Her Chronicles, Book 3

by Julia Phillips

085 – A Long Way on a Long Day


Disclaimer:

The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended.
This story is copyright © 2018 - 2020 Julia Phillips. All rights reserved.

It uses some of the associated characters and situations that arise from the world called ‘Anmar’ created by Penny Lane, whose stories
are also copyright © 2010 - 2020 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.


Julina of Blackstone
Her Chronicles
085 – A Long Way on a Long Day

“Good morrow, Mistress Pachet.” I used the formal address because I was not sure that everyone else knew everyone else. Again I found this social convention to be so restricting and wasteful. But all the elders tell me that they thought the same as a youngster, but only really appreciated it as they grew into their more mature adulthood. Then I realised that the Rangers would all be strangers to her and I had been right. Oh Kallisthena! How stupid it all is.

“Maker! Good morrow all!” she nervously greeted me, then looked at the others.

She raised her eyebrows ever so high when she took in the Rangers’ uniforms. She obviously suddenly realised another consideration which was urgently required as we four women all slipped off our saddles and headed, sort of scrunched up, without waiting for an invitation, towards her front door. A front door that was now proudly displaying a larger and very cheery sign, excellently painted, above it which told the world that this was the ‘Clay Pot’.

We women were just not going to wait for any formal introductions. I was content to leave all that to Uncle Steef; let him explain the circumstances, he had an extra advantage after all.

In fact, I must say that I was more than content to let Uncle Steef handle it.

Almost desperate for him to do it, you might say.

We had, as you will probably know, departed from the Ptuvil’s Claw up in Blackstone at dawn almost exactly. Actually the Dawn bell rang just after we had crossed the bridge on our way out of town. We knew that today would have a smidgeon over a dozen bells of daylight, so, after many a discussion beforehand, we had set ourselves achievement targets for our journey down.

A dedicated Valley Messenger Service courier was known to be able to keep up a pace of about 10 marks a bell, but he would have access to changes of animals every 2 or 3 bells, certainly less than 4. We therefore based our targets upon information that we considered to be more ‘sensible’.

We tried to keep the calculations easy – we knew ’twas 68 marks to Tranidor and we also wanted to have some time to spare at the end, or to use to get by some unforeseen delay, so we simplified it all and said: call it 70 marks to be done in 10 bells – that comes to 7 marks a bell. (Those Garian numbers really do make mental arithmetic far easier!) Now Bezlet was roughly 32 marks from Blackstone, so we needed to be there after four and a half bells. And we would have a further five and a half bells to go afterwards. So we weren’t even half way when we got to Pachet’s!

Which all meant that, very roughly speaking, we needed to be at the Forest Roadhouse, which was about ten marks nearer Blackstone than Bezlet was, by the third bell. We could in all actuality be just a little later than that, but that was what we set as our first target.

However, we only managed to reach as far as the Bunkhouse before the first delay came.

All the wagons that had been parked there for the past full day (the day before had been the Longest Day celebrations so no-one had worked) were jostling for position on the road. We had to pick our way through them all, which was difficult for the Rangers to keep us all together.

And then we had not a few of them to overtake.

We finally gained a clear road ahead and we as well as the frayen enjoyed a quarter of a bell of higher speed riding, which caused Waxerwet some little anxiety, for she had not gone that fast before.

We women then had to let two or three of the early wagons come past us again. Much to the men’s regret. So we had the task of overtaking them yet once more.

There followed a short period of clear road, again at higher speed, before the first wagons came the other way, they having started out their day from the Forest Roadhouse ahead.

At the top of the traverse down and across the rockface, we encountered the next delay.

It was highly ironic for ’twas I that had made the suggestion of loading and unloading the wagons of steel rails for the railroad. And that was exactly what it was that delayed us. Again, we women disappeared into the woods up there, but this time it delayed our progress not at all, for we were just using time when all of us would be stalled anyway.

We went down the slope at a fast rate, discounting Captain Bleskin’s advice – which was something, when I mentioned it, that produced a brief moment of shock to Mompik’s face: “You, Mistress!? You were the young girl with us that day? Mistress Pemmet or something was the older woman. I remembered not that ’twas YOU with us.”

I laughed: “We have not done a ‘Van Change’ yet on our journey, Mompik.”

His whole demeanour changed as he at last – at long, long last – relaxed: “Mayhap we should practice once we reach level ground!”

We had a short break at the Roadhouse, mostly to refresh the beasts; all the humans understood our need to keep going. We were then a quarter of a bell behind our self-imposed schedule. So we pushed hard along the road past the Retreat. When we got to the Clay Pot in Bezlet, the beasts were breathing hard - the men’s, the adult men’s that is, particularly so.

Mistress Pachet welcomed us fulsomely, and I noticed she gave a special squeeze of the arm to Uncle Steef. She then called an urchin to her by means of loudly whistling a short series of notes from her front door. Almost immediately a young lad appeared. “Go fetch Goodman Dilligas and Mistress Talbet – they are awaiting news of their daughter’s arrival.”

The lad sprinted off. Pachet ushered us into her inn and asked if she could fetch us something to eat or drink. I smiled as I realised we had gone into the inn to use the facilities and had then come out of it again to join the conversations. Only to go back in again at that moment. She ushered us to a set of tables and chairs and bade us be seated.

Whereupon I told Pachet I had something to show her.

When I went into the kitchens with her, to teach her about the ‘Brets’, I just happened to notice three small barrels sitting just outside, one of which had blue streaks down the outside. I decided to wait until we were all together back in the dining room before I asked her for an explanation, so she wouldn’t have to repeat herself.

“Maker! These Bret things are easy are they not? And such a good idea for a small meal. What else have you to tell me about them?”

“I have found that, to MY taste, just putting the slice of bread around the food inside makes the result just a little dry. By smearing a light coat of dripping on the inside, obviously matching the dripping to the … the … the … contents to be used, then it seems to ease the dryness a little, and adds an extra level of taste. I also deem that a small amount of sauce added when appropriate - ’twould be inappropriate to add a fish sauce for example to a Bret of cheese, or even of sliced gavakhan - helps keep some of the dryness at bay.

“I need to find some way to be able to keep these fresher though, for the bread slices dry out remarkably quickly. By making them fresh upon demand, then that problem does not arise – however, ’twould be nice to be able to make a batch of them in advance, I deem. I also found that differing sorts of bread taste better or worse with differing contents. I regret I have not had time to fully study the idea, but I confess I am pleased with the concept.”

“Aye, Mistress. I had not yet thought that far. Do you have any ideas as to how to hold in some freshness?”

“Well, when we get deliveries of paper – or at least when we used to get such deliveries, since the printer in Blackstone now also makes paper supplies and is just now managing to keep ahead of demand – then the packages of paper have been wrapped in a layer of paper that has somehow been waxed. This is, I gather, to prevent the paper stacked inside from getting damp, torn or otherwise battered.

“I deem such waxed paper might be able to be used to wrap the Brets and keep them fresher but I know not how and when the wax is applied to the wrapping. If ’tis AFTER the package has been made, then that process would in all probability ruin the Bret inside.

“And we wouldn’t want to wrap our Brets directly so that the waxy stuff is in contact, lest the taste of the wax is able to leach somehow into the Bret!” I shuddered as I thought of biting into wax, and Pachet did too after processing what I had just said.

“Indeed, Mistress. I shall ask some of my visiting drivers to enquire how ’tis done down at the paper makers.”

By this time, with Pachet’s rapid understanding, we had made two Brets for each of the travellers, one batch with a meat content, one batch with a cheese content along with some thinly sliced vegetables to help keep the thing moist. We added a few more of each in case Davvy’s parents were content with such a light lunch. If not, we could take them with us.

We returned to the large table the others had made and I was somewhat surprised. I had imagined that we would almost certainly immediately remount and head out but Mompik shook his head: “The beasts have been pushed quite hard already today, Mistress Julina. I deem they should have another half bell to rest and regain a little strength.”

Dilligas and Talbet came in then, and the little family had a most fond group hug.

I spoke to Mompik while Davvy was squeaking out to her parents the exciting plans we had for our journey: “I noticed that the mounts of you soldiers and of these two men with us seemed to be slightly worse for wear than our ones. Is that because we are so much lighter than you men?”

“Indeed so, Mistress. Ours have far more work to do with us astride them.”

“Would it help if we were to change around, we women take one of the beasts that you men have ridden, while you take the ones we have used?”

“But there are four of you and six of us, the numbers do not tally.”

“Then take also two of the pack beasts, they have been scarce hard driven. For they are far from being so heavily laden.”

“There could be much in what you say Mistress. May we think about it at the end of this day, for we have trained together with our beasts and thus have a far deeper understanding with them? And we will know more about the demands we have made, and shall make, at the end of this our first day.”

“I deem that would be a good idea.”

But actually, it was an idea that got forgotten in the somewhat hectic and complicated arrangements we made later. But that is yet to come.

I searched around for another subject with which to break the silence that had suddenly fallen. Everyone started to turn their eyes towards me.

Then I remembered those briefly seen small barrels, the ones I had espied through the windows of the kitchen.

“Mistress Pachet,” I began, (the Rangers were with us so I had to be formal, *sigh*), “I saw some small barrels outside your back door. Does your beer get delivered in such small containers here?”

She laughed. “Oh no, Mistress Julina, they are for the rock painter, who overnights here whilst he does his work. They contain paints.”

“Rock painter?”

Then ’twas time for Dilligas to enter the conversation: “Indeed. You may not know that just recently the way around the nose of Kord’s Peak has been opened ...” His eyes widened when we nodded that we did in fact know that already. “... ’Tis still very narrow, but nevertheless ’tis possible now to walk and/or ride down to Tamitil with no need to climb the hill up to the Chaarn Road junction. In fact, now I think on’t, ’twould probably be of great benefit to you all to go that way and spare some extra, and now totally unnecessary, strain upon your beasts. I must say that it doesn’t reduce your way by so very much distance, maybe just a mark, at most two, but the strain on your animals will be considerably eased, and it should be overall faster.”

Mompik was very interested, we could tell, but still he remained a little wary: “But I am told, Goodman Dilligas, that the forester’s tracks the other side of the peak are nought but a maze. How should we find our path?”

“That was exactly the point I was attempting to come to, File Leader. In all truth, from this side, ’tis but simplicity itself. Coming the other way is more complex because of the number of side tracks that must be ignored. Going from here to Tamitil you must simply follow the track, the one to which this new path leads, as it twists and turns through the trees. Eventually, you shall reach a junction at which you must turn either right or left. You turn right, back towards the river. Again that track ends in exactly the same type of junction, and again you turn right. This final track you find yourself now on is the one that brings you then to Tamitil.”

“But the other way, you say, the way to come back here, is somehow more complex? I’m not sure I fully understand why that should be.”

“Ah that is because you need to know which one of the many side tracks you encounter is the one at which you would need to turn. Going from here, you just turn when you would otherwise bump into the trees.”

We thought about that for what seemed to be a full minute, I deem. Then I realised the full import of what he was saying and a great light went off in my head. The others followed after me quite quickly, starting with Mompik and then there seemed to be a race amongst the others to catch on after that.

“But the paint? And the rock painter? What of that, of him? What is he for, what does he do?” I asked, to a chorus, if that’s the right word, of nodding from several other heads round the table.

“Ah! It’s not just a team of one, that team of specialist forest workers. There are several of them actually. One pair of them is employed across the road here, as more and more workers are sent into the woods there; for where this so important, yet mostly grossly misunderstood, railroad track shall come through.

“What they are doing is placing markers at those important junctions to make that journey easier. To get around the very problem I have just described.

“What the rock painters do is to place a relatively large rock at each of the important junctions and then they paint it white. After that, they place smaller rocks, which they name ‘pointer rocks’, at the foot of the white one in such a way that this pointer rock indicates the trail to be taken. The pointer rocks are painted in colours that correspond to a destination.

“Let us say you get to a junction in those woods. You see a white rock. From the foot of that white-painted rock, a pointer rock, maybe more than one, will point towards the road you have just approached from. Others point to the possible tracks you could take from the junction. Say red and black to the left, green to the right, just as an example.

“For you, you need to know the following: Yellow rocks point to Tamitil, blue ones point to us here, other colours to other destinations. Should you in fact choose to go that way through the woods, rather than up to the Chaarn Road junction, then you just follow the yellow rock road and everything shall be fine.”

“Where does this track emerge then? What I mean to ask, to state it more accurately, is where does it finally emerge? The other side of Tamitil, that is?” Again, ’twas I who was the first to ask.

“I understand that the track that serves the other side of Tamitil joins with the Chaarn road at the so-called ‘new’ border of Her Highness’ lands. Right by the semaphore tower there. By the way, it can no longer be named a track on that far side of Tamitil, ’tis a well-used, but still a bit bumpy, road.” I wondered briefly if Papa knew about his road that was now in his ‘district’ so to speak, but then I remembered that he had a local office based in Brayview, run by Master Leofer, so ’twould be their responsibility rather than his. Did they know ...

“So we would bypass Brayview too? As well as the climb up to the Chaarn Road Junction?”

I had been away in my thoughts and Mompik had sensibly filled the brief silent gap that had ensued with a question of his own. I happily ceded place in the conversation to Mompik since his questions were, of course, of great importance to the execution of his duties.

“Indeed, File Leader Mompik,” confirmed Dilligas with a nod of his head.

“And these woods you recommend we shall traverse – Bandits? Citizens? Wild animals? Anything else that might afford us some difficulty or even danger?”

“No bandits have ever been reported, nor any specially different animals, and there are very, very few inhabitants. I myself have been to Tamitil that way twice now, in an attempt to learn the pathways, and I have never encountered another soul on my way there nor on the way back. In one way, the silence is very relaxing, giving me a sort of energy refill in some strange way. The footing is soft and flat, no marsh, no quicksand, no old and brittle trees.”

We all darted glances at each other after which I was sure that all the others, every single one of them, were as keen as I was to take this new route. We might be having a difficult day, but let us have a little fun whilst doing it. We didn’t take a vote or anything, we all simply silently agreed.

And so it shall come as no surprise whatsoever that that is what we did.

Before we left, we women again took a ‘just in case’ break. Doing that reminded me of something I had earlier thought to remember to ask Pachet, and would have forgotten had we not done that.

“That soap you provide for hand washing, and body washing I see from the bath, is particularly nice and it has a pleasant smell, one that is familiar in some way and yet tantalisingly elusive. What might it be?”

“Mistress Julina, ’tis a honey soap.”

As soon as she said the word honey, I realised exactly that that was it. I had just never associated honey with a soap before. “And whence comes it?”

“There is an Eppriman, who is, I must warn you, a bit of a recluse, across the main road from here. He makes it. I, well actually it’s Meglina of course, ...” she grinned “… buy it from him and I have now placed it everywhere soap is required.”

“How much can he produce? I would fain purchase a large amount, particularly for the Frolicsome Frayen up in Blackstone. The visitors that stay there for their weddings would enjoy it, I deem. ’Twould provide a touch of luxury to start their wedded life. I would have liked it for all of our inns actually, and maybe even for the Bunkhouses. It is, I deem, a good way to enhance Meglina’s reputation. Give our guests something else to talk about once they have gone.”

She drew her breath in sharply. “I doubt he could produce quite so very much, Mistress Julina. But I shall, of course, ask.”

Another thought occurred to me then, one I kicked myself for not thinking of earlier. “Of course! What a ked I am. I should send Mistress Megrozen to him, for she too is something of an Eppriwoman.

“Please obtain as many pieces as you can. And send them up to Bailiss Michet in Blackstone with an explanatory note, if you would be so kind. Priority to here of course, but then to the Frolicsome Frayen and then to the Stoop. I shall report this to Mistress Megrozen tonight, and no doubt she will contact you about it.”

“As you say, Mistress.”

“Now, is there any other news for us before we go?”

“Let me see. We have no fewer than four more families who have crossed the now completed bridge over to the West Bank. Her Highness has it seems some very rich crop farming lands over there, that have never before been worked. And those families make a point of coming across here again to get, as they say, ‘in touch with some civilisation’. We always have extra fun of an evening when those folk join in with our entertainments.”

“That is good to know. This community is slowly but steadily growing.”

We chatted on for just a few more moments.

That honey soap really is rather special, I found myself thinking. I must remember to tell Epp all about it. “Davvy, help me to remember to talk this night with Epp about the honey soap.” She nodded, but indicated she had just packed away her paper and reedlets.

Less than five minutes later, we were on our way again. All of us being equally excited at being trail-blazers for once, as it were. The first group anyway ever to make their way through those paths.

And what a glorious day it was to do it on too. Just a few high clouds drifting lazily across the brilliant blue above us.

… … …

Passing the nose of Kord’s Peak was … tricky.

Frankly, I must confess I was absolutely terrified.

I worried lest Trumpa baulk at something and drag me off my feet and into the rushing waters below. Or the frayen attached to Trumpa’s saddle did something stupid and dragged us both down together. I really had to screw up my courage to make passage across that pair of narrow casts.

The workers there were not overly pleased to see us. They had to cease their work to allow us to pass, even the workers working higher up – lest anything fall and strike us. They all frowned at us as they afforded us the chances to have a safe passage. And as we went in single file, that was eleven people and all of 18 frayen, it took us a fair while for all of us to pass, much to the workers frustration if not actual annoyance. Mompik brought up the rear and reported ruefully later exactly what they had said once he had passed. It was certainly not very complimentary, and I deem Mompik gentled down some of the words.

We bunched all of us together once we had gained the more reassuring ground on the far side of the far stream. That second bridge seemed a little rickety to me, but mayhap that was because my nerves were already hard a’jangle. We paused as we gained the solid ground beyond. We all gathered together as we looked at where we were about to go.

There was little chance for error though. There was indeed, as we had been forewarned, only the one track.

Ahead of us we inspected an obviously recently made track, one that seemed as if it had just been crudely hacked through the thinner growth of trees that grew there. To our left, a cast or so away, was a noticeable line where the thicker tree growth started, but this crude track ahead of us led straight for about half a mark.

We set out forward, the Rangers setting a pattern for our travel of one in front, one behind and one on each side. I was shocked at the footing for it was far from being as smooth as Dilligas had said it would be. My heart sank into my boots, or that’s how it seemed; if this was how the rest of this traverse to Tamitil was going to be, then we were in trouble, time-wise.

Big, big trouble.

Trouble that threatened our entire schedule. All the way down to Dekarran.

But I am happy to report that, after that initial half mark, we gained a far more pronounced and ancient track, with such a good footing that I thought it must be ideal for our animals to hurry along it.

And hurry is exactly what we did. ’Twas noticeable to me that Waxerwet was becoming more accustomed to a speedier pace.

Less than a bell after starting through this area, we came upon the first junction that had painted rocks. Exactly as had been described, there was a white rock, with a blue pointer rock showing the way we had just come, a red pointer rock in the direction of the track that went off to our right, and then three pointer rocks in the direction in which we were already headed – green, black and yellow.

We were soon all so wrapped up in the silence of the woods here that our speech was muted and infrequent. By and by, we came to the first of our dead-end junctions. A green pointer rock showed the track to the left, black and yellow ones showed down the track to the right. Red and blue were pointing back down the way we had come. We turned the way the yellow rock pointed.

Sooner than I expected, we came to the second such junction. This time the black rock pointed the way to the left, whilst green, red and blue pointed back the way we had come. This time there was but just a single yellow one showing to the right.

By then, ’twas time once more for us women to dismount for a hand of moments. The frayen all looked grateful to us, even if the men didn’t.

We remounted and naturally we continued along the way. Only a short while later, I, we, could hear the steadily increasing sound of water rushing downvalley in the river. I laughed: “Well, if we had not stopped just back there, we would have had to stop here; that sound is really very demanding.” Two of the men soon demonstrated the truth of my words, but they of course were far quicker about their business so we even left them behind, letting them catch up when done.

Even though the trees were growing thinly here, it was still a sudden almost shock when we came out unexpectedly onto the river bank and saw the splendid, unspoilt view.

Pure Nature untrammelled by any human intervention.

We all just had to stop, to drink in the beauty of the both the spot and the moment.

“’Twill almost be a crime to force a tow path through here,” said Steef with a wistful tone in his voice.

“And we shall ruin it all with a railroad track too. Drink deep, all of you, this beauty shall soon be despoiled by us humans.”

And so we continued, now saddened a bit by the knowledge of what was to come, wrought in the name of progress.

We followed the bank of the river for a few more marks until its curve round to the west took the bank away from our track which now arrowed straight through the trees again. Soon after, our ears and noses told us we were nearing what must surely be Tamitil.

Tamitil is a beautiful village of old houses huddled, clustered even, along the river bank above the flood line.

A beautiful village that was marred by two enormous mills, both working flat out.

There were ugly wharves along here, with a couple of barges loading up with flour. A string of wagons were also loading, and I recognised some of the drivers as being regulars up in Blackstone. I was a little taken aback that none of the wagons was painted in Blackstone Wagons colours.

We decided it would be a good idea to take a swift break here, to find some pel and some pastries.

The animals were thirsty but not noticeably more strained than when we had been in Bezlet a bell and a half ago. We took advantage of an offer of some bales of fodder for them as well. We broke the bales open and let the animals graze, the locals promising that anything left over would be used sensibly. I must say that I was pleasantly surprised at the rates we were charged at that stop.

There were small boats crossing to and from the far bank, from land I knew was not belonging to Her Highness. I struggled with my memory, trying to remember the name of the Lord whose lands they were. I knew I had been told it sometime, somewhere. But the memory was proving elusive. I actually grumped about it for a little while, until the others jollied me out of it.

“Innkeeper, those boats there, they seem very busy and are crossing the river quite often, I deem?”

“Mistress, the opening of the mills here has opened up a speedier way for the farmers over there to get their crops sold. They say that three more farming families have now moved in over on that bank. Previously, ’twas a laborious drive down to Tranidor for them to sell their produce. Now they can bring it over here by boat.”

“The boats though seem very small?”

“Indeed, Mistress. They use what they can find easily here. So they require many crossings to bring their produce over here. No doubt, as they prosper, the boats shall grow.”

Whilst we sat there, enjoying our half-bell’s break, we were inundated with questions, suggestions and advice from fellow customers. There was one older man sitting in a corner who kept muttering about the impatience of youth but everyone, locals chiefly amongst them, just laughed at him, telling us to pay him no heed, he was always grumpy. He also grumped about women riding, how unseemly it was, and so on. I think that actually helped us, for it seemed to me the locals were more interested in his grumpiness than the novelty of women a’riding.

However, they were all surprised, some perhaps even awed, when we said we were underway from Blackstone to Tranidor, doing the journey in a single day. Of course that opened up a slew of questions about our route, one from a man of retirement age who seemed the least ... how shall I put it? ... stuck in his remote village ways.

Uncle Steef was the first to reply to him: “We have come through the trees from Bezlet just now ...”

“Where? Never heard of it!”

“’Tis a new village being built up the Bray valley at the point where the road drops down to the valley floor from the Chaarn Road junction. There is being built there a barge wharf and so on, soon there shall be barges plying the stretch of river between here and there. Next year, I deem, that trade will become established. Bezlet itself is just the other side from here of the rock that separates the two streams that nearly converge.”

“Ah! Yes, I went that far as a young ‘un once. I ken now where you mean. Was it difficult crossing the two streams and traversing the thick woods between them?”

“We came, Goodman, around the nose of the rock, for that has been chipped away now to allow passage. In a few months after the rains, it shall be widened to allow wagons even.”

“Maker! Shall we be buried in wagon traffic then? Shall our peace in this village be shattered even more? I was only just getting used to the mills.” He tapered off briefly before continuing: “I might take a ride up thataway soon, to see these ‘developments’ as you call them.”

“Just follow the blue pointer rocks, then! And there is a most friendly inn in Bezlet, at what is known as the road end of the village.”

“Pointer rocks already? Well I never. And is the way good?”

“We have today been the first larger party to essay that route.” He laughed. “I suppose you could say we have assayed it. There is room for improvement, particularly up there at the streams and rocky nose end, incidentally that rocky nose has been named Kord’s Peak, but the route was delightfully peaceful. Our beasts are grateful not to have had to climb up the valley wall to join the Chaarn road.”

“Aye! I can understand that, I deem!”

I was about to launch into an explanation of the railroad to come, but a subtle shake of his head allowed Pyor to deflect me from that. Later he told me he deemed the locals were almost upset already just about the possibility of having increased wagon traffic. I adjudged him to be right, once I thought on it.

Now the day’s exertions were beginning to tell on us. Speaking for myself, I suppressed a groan at the thought of climbing back aboard Trumpa but I did, pasting on a cheerful face as I encouraged the others. We were beyond the half way point there, I announced loudly. We all of us had taken a natural break before remounting and pulling out, Mompik this time in the lead and Vakter bringing up the rear. We were gawped at by everyone it seemed as we made our way through and beyond the village, keeping on the river bank once we were clear of the buildings.

We noticed the new route that had been cut through the trees heading off to the north-east, and which led directly to Brayview. Our track though headed south-east so we swiftly passed out of sight of that rip through the trees, a rip that was only able to be described as savage. For the first time, I really understood Her Highness’ edict that we must replant wherever possible to replace what had been cut down.

“Baron Werrel,” I suddenly and unexpectedly called out.

“Huh?” said Gyth and Davvy together.

“I just remembered the name of the landowner across the river from Tamitil. He is a vassal of Count Trosanar down in Tranidor. The Count is already annoyed with Her Highness and bristles as soon as anyone mentions the word Blackstone. I bet he won’t be happy to hear that the Baron’s farmers are not selling their crop in the Count’s estates but rather in Her Highness’ estates.”

There were some murmurs of agreement to that, but ’twas not long before we lapsed once more into a companionable silence.

That track that we followed from Tamitil was indeed wider and obviously more travelled, and indeed we met with some frayen riders and a few wagons as we progressed once more. We were then again forcing the pace - to take advantage of the relatively light traffic. We all knew that once we reached the main road, then we would be necessarily slowed.

And so it proved.

We had one more stop for us women’s comfort, which we took at one of the roadhouses, where we enjoyed the more civilised facilities, and then we plodded on. Yes, by that time we were plodding. Or at least the men’s mounts were. Trumpa I could somehow feel was weary but not at the point of exhaustion. How would we manage with another two days of travel like this?

For the first time, I began to have some serious doubts.

By and by, we reached the Bridge that led into Tranidor. There were quite a few more people crossing the bridge than I expected for that time of day, so we joined a tailback caused by the toll-takers. We had been just under 11 bells in all and I was feeling every one of them in my limbs. I paid the tolls and we were through.

And assaulted by the noise and the smells and the bustle of it all.

Rather than cut down through the less-frequently used roads to Epp’s, I kept us all together and we used Cross Street until we got to Junction Square, where we could halt together forming a large clump of stillness amidst the incessant comings and goings.

Wenders were dashing about, fully loaded. Bacs were in great demand. Wagons, both loaded and empty, were passing, frayen were being ridden, footgoers were scurrying, standing, moving slowly, stopping to chat. I always forgot the noisy chaos of Tranidor until I arrived here again. And then it always thumped, thumped, thumped into my head and body. The Rangers were looking around in awe, hands on their hilts.

Surtree had never been further downvalley from Blackstone than the Retreat. He was sat there hunched, hands over his ears in a forlorn attempt to get some relief. I could see he hated it immediately.

“Don’t worry, Surtree. Your brain soon gets used to it!”

He absolutely refused to believe me, even when we finally arrived at Epp’s.

“Mompik,” I called, for ’twould be impossible to have a normal conversation here, “to keep up our schedule shall be difficult, I deem. But not impossible. Your Inn lies yonder, across that bridge ahead of us and out of this, the Old Town. The town part across the bridge ahead is called West Tranidor. The road splits then, either right or left. Take the left and follow it until you are nearly at another bridge. Just down to your left you shall there find the ‘Iron Spear’. Mistress Megrozen apologises but she was unable to find any other accommodation for the four of you to be together. The town here has been busy, it seems.”

“I understand, Mistress Julina.”

“And ’tis a deal quieter there, I promise you.”

He just nodded to acknowledge my statement.

“Now, ideally I should like to be away as early as we were this morning, however, I deem that that is in its way self-defeating, for our beasts shall tire sooner. The advice given to me is that we should be able to pass Haligo and get on towards Teldor, even if we depart at the first bell. This will give us a little more sleep, a slightly more leisurely time to break our fasts, and ’twill give the beasts a little longer to recover. I recommend a hot bath tonight for the inevitable muscle aches we shall all suffer from.

“In the morning, we shall depart from your inn and travel down the west bank of the river, otherwise I must come across to your inn, pay your reckoning, and then we all must cross back through here, the Old Town. I shall pay for your evening meal, your breakfasts and your sleeping rooms for the night. I will not, however, pay for any drunken excesses tonight.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress. Fully understood. Did you all hear that, you lot?” he too called loudly.

There were nods of agreement and a small chorus of what I assumed to be thanks.

“Very well. Thank you all for today, sleep well, and until the morning.”

“Good night, Mistresses, Masters.”

“Good night, to you.”

“Oh, hold! Our belongings are distributed over the pack beasts, we must retrieve them now. We can manage to clasp them to ourselves for a short trip such as we have.”

There was suddenly a flurry of activity. None of us women dismounted though, allowing the adult men to sort everything out. I doubted my muscles could have carried me back onto Trumpa’s back if I were to dismount now.

I had forgotten in all of my planning that Pyor had family here in Tranidor and so he would go to sleep there, a few semaphores having arranged everything some two or three days ago it seems. He (loudly) agreed to meet at the Rangers’ inn at the first bell. He too broke away from us there and then, leaving the rest of us to follow my lead down to Epp’s mansion. We went straight down the road and past the ‘Nest’ which I saw was just closing up for the night.

The welcome at Epp’s was very … welcome.

The lack of one of the expected guests was easily smoothed over. In fact, the extra food that had been catered for was soon gobbled down by all of us, once those blissful but all too short baths had been taken.

My colleagues all chose to go to bed early but I was left to regret being a businesswoman, for I needed to report to Epp on all sorts of matters. And she to me. And agreements were to be found. And future happenings to be arranged. And so on. And so on. And so on.

… … …

“… and then I could glean from Senidet what I might need to do, and be wary of, and all that sort of thing were I to move downvalley. So if we can overtake their slow-moving column ...”

… … …

“Honey soap? I have never heard of it!”

“Nor had I! But Pachet has found it and provides it for guests at the ‘Pot’.”

“I shall go up there then and see her and this Eppriman if possible. Perhaps stay at the ‘Pot’ myself, if our private little house is not yet available.”

… … …

“… is easy to follow. Just let the painted rocks guide you. Blue for Bezlet direction, and yellow for Tamitil direction. Now, talking of Tamitil, I deem that that village will expand greatly and that that expansion shall be soon. We should consider having an inn or two there too. We should buy the land early before prices soar. Mayhap you would want to investigate that too when you are there. I can tell you I have the coin for it, and it appears that we are beginning to make reasonable profits from the place here in Tranidor ...”

… … …

“… Mousa has determined that the old VMS building is more convenient for her business, so she shall pay a small rent for using that. It shall ever be small, for now I must tell you that, as of recently, I now own the building ...”

… … …

“… a brewery up there. Sookie has all the details ...”

… … …

“… Bunkhouses. Keep the Inns for the more discerning of travellers that shall stop there ...”

… … …

“… called them ‘Brets’ and they are very easy to make, but need to be fresh ...”

… … ...

Then it was her turn.

“… Bormio and his property. I thought that ...”

… … …

“… if you take the west bank as you indicated you would, then there must be several possibilities for more and/or better inns down there. I deem that beyond Haligo shall be too far for us. Let me know what you think ...”

… … ...

“… perchance build a few small bedrooms on a floor above. Kaffer would still be prepared to continue to run the ‘Nest’ but wishes to start to reduce his worries. He feels that with a reduced involvement, he could continue for another three or four years. I think that ’twould be a sound investment. And Bratet is prepared to do some of the foodery, to afford Kaffer even more rest.”

I didn’t really need much persuasion as to doing that, for that place had always been a favourite of mine.

“Agreed, you may arrange to purchase it for Meglina. Master Schild can arrange everything no doubt, or Master Ruckem, maybe even Master Moshan! Should I sign a paper?”

“No need, I deem. Doesn’t our agreement allow each of us to act somewhat independently?”

“Oh yes. So it does!”

… … …

There were just a few more topics that we discussed and then she could see I was fading.

“Off to bed with you, sweet girl. I shall see you in the morning.”

Finally, I was able to get to my bed. I was so tired that I didn’t even take the time I usually did to appreciate fully the comforts of my room here in Epp’s house nor the normal delights of the balcony outside of it with those lovely views over lights twinkling on the darkened water.


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Comments

First Leg of the Journey

Wonderful. Interesting conversations and route detail. Julina is thinking all the time (looking for new business opportunities).

Thanks for sharing.

Nothing like being a first mover

Julina spots business opportunities like Osprey spot fish in the water.

The only thing though is honey soap always seem a bit wasteful to me as I think it should be kept as a food.

Thank you for making her first travel day so exciting.

I especially empathized with the need for bathroom breaks for the women.

Even before I transitioned my need for bathroom breaks were just as frequent as genetic women.

Finally, it is very fortunate for Julina/Epp to be able to expand the corporation without the need of borrowing, unheard of in today’s world. I have little doubt that if Meglina ever even hinted at needing a loan, Moshan would jump in with both feet.

Julina said...

Aine Sabine's picture

They would take the west bank road from Tranidor to Haligo. The maps don't show this. Is that because it is not a major trade route. I'd think it would have to be to go up the Sufen Vale.

Aine

As you rightly said ...

... the maps show only the major Trade Routes.

The mining interests up the Sufen (trade routes on BOTH banks) are served by crossing Tranidor and taking the EAST bank of the Palar (now I wonder just who wants it that way to maximise his take from the wagonloads?).

Just because there is no major trade route on the west bank, it won't be entirely devoid of hamlets, villages and maybe even small towns, each of which would naturally connect to its neighbours. So there is a route the entire way, and a tow path for barges.

As these are not mentioned by name in the tales, we decided to keep the maps as uncluttered as we could.

But a good observation, thank you!

Joolz

No worries!

Aine Sabine's picture

I should've thought about the Counts fiscal income. I hope all is well with you! I just finished to current JoB. Looking forward to the next installment!

Aine