Turn 110
    Yestin and Emmett share a glance. Obviously, what these people are going to be most interested in buying is metal. Brosh's question hinted at what is likely his main concern; if any deal can be reached with these newcomers, can there be delivery in time to be useful to him, or will he be taking on Durrell without that?
    "Victor and Sons has no monopoly upon the iron and steel trade, to be sure," Yestin replies cautiously. "I am sure we can accommodate your needs in volume, but as to when the goods would arrive...?" Yestin shrugs. "If your war season occurs in the summer, as it does upon many worlds akin to your own, then perhaps delivery could be speeded in time to be of use to you, should you need to campaign against any, ah, 'upstarts.' But I fear our arrival will be no secret to Durrell or the Victor, given the commotion we have occasioned, and I wonder if they would await his majesty's leisure to arm and attack."
    "Too," Yestin adds, coloring self-consciously, "remember that we are but a humble trading house, not a political body capable of forging military alliance. Steel we may ferry on your behalf, but we have no men to offer."
    "You are perspicacious, captain," the chancellor smiles, and changes the subject....

    * * *

    That afternoon, and somewhat to his surprise, he is approached by Brother Pham. "I hope this is not an imposition, but I have a request to make. After what happened in Myrr, I am quite concerned about what we may find here. If this... plague reached that city, there is no reason it cannot have come here as well. I saw no signs in court yesterday. I suggest we hold a second hunt, for signs of the evil influence we encountered before." Unexpectedly he smiles, reminding Lynden how young the other priest is, and suggesting that the solemnity that has gripped him since they met is not his natural character. "It is a large building to canvas, and no doubt there are places we are forbidden to go, and it is a chancy thing in any case to seek such an intangible, but... I should feel more at ease for having made the attempt."
    Lynden ponders for a few moments then returns the tentative smile. "A wise suggestion indeed. Between us we should be able to search widely and I expect I will be able to persuade entry into places where you may not. One moment and I shall be ready..." Lynden gathers his belongings together into a tidy pile and before leaving ensures that Daniel at least knows of their plans to 'explore'.
    And explore they do, for the remainder of that day and on into the evening. The palace appears clean of any taint such as they saw so vividly in Myrr, but Pham remains uneasy. Surely the cult would try to exert some influence over the king if they could possibly manage it? Later on, talking to one of the more garrulous servants, the man says, "Oh no, your holiness, they don't all stay here. Some of the lords have houses in the city where they stay. I hear the wizard has three houses, and a dozen chefs in each of them, though of course he does stay here often. Lord Peric has a house, and Lord Holleb. And of course the general has that great pile by the river, what they say is haunted, and the poor man with no family alive."

    * * *

    Ibn Fadil and Nyala are up early and visiting the stables as arranged. There is a brief delay while Nyala explains in no uncertain terms that she is not riding sidesaddle, but they are eventually loaned a couple of the tall, sturdy beasts common on this world. They're not exactly light on their feet, but powerful enough to forge a way through the deep snow. After a few turns around the yard to get acquainted, they go out into the city in search of warm clothes and diversions, accompanied by a middle-aged servant assigned to guide them.
    The city is, as they noticed from the air, considerably larger than Myrr (though that still isn't saying much compared to some other worlds). The buildings are less decorated, and more of them are of stone, lending the place a rather stern look. The streets are straight and wide, suggesting that this place was built to some plan, at least in parts. They pass through several markets, finding ample opportunity to pick up any items they feel will be needed for the expedition to come, coming away with a small bronze camping brazier for which they were charged extortionately, and as many warm items of clothing as will not require tailoring. Nyala teases him gently about his sensitivity to the cold; she seems to be in a better mood now that they're off the ship.
    Emmett and Inez have ventured out on foot, accompanied by stares everywhere they go. Inez is ebullient at being able to *do* something and happy to assume that the stares are directed at her companion. She makes a point of talking to a lot of people--asking directions, inquiring about merchandise in the market, remarking on the weather, making almost constant small talk with their assigned guide, and in all forcing them to acknowledge her existence, which most of them do, albeit with many a puzzled and rather disapproving glance at Emmett. Though they may have seen the ship descend, most of the people here have not heard descriptions of the visitors, or even know that there are any, perhaps thinking the ship some wizardly or dwarven delegation to the court. By the end of the day, however, rumors will be rife.
    Emmett meets these glances with a big grin and a shrug, that says "not from around here, folks." Forcing the locals to form whatever opinions they want. He's keeping a careful ear cocked to make sure that Inez doesn't go too far out of line, but so far her questions remain innocuous tweaking, and he trusts her professionalism enough to know that she wouldn't really push the issue. If anyone asks, he'll happily point out that they are from far distant places, but won't make excuses for Inez' behavior.
    A bit of asking around locates the headquarters of the Artificer's Guild; the population of the city is such that the guild owns more than one property in Narain. It is an imposing stone building, several stories tall and fronted with proper piety by a lavish shrine to their patron deities Albin and Lucja, the clever fox and the crafting spider.
    The half man only goes so far as scanning the outside of the building for any hidden Hextorian marks, seeing none. He doesn't expect to find them, but he did promise himself to do no further research on Inez's day out. This is a wise decision; she is happier and more relaxed than she has been since they landed, more amused than offended by the occasional scandalized glance that comes their way.
    After the quick scan, the two hit the marketplace, getting the warmer clothes they'd need for the hunt. Emmett also looks around to see what he can find of weaponmakers -- swords are probably highly restricted, but there might be people working in wood for staves, spears and the like. In as metal poor a world as this, they might have developed some high quality woodworking.
    And they have, as was evidenced in Myrr by the number of items where they make do with wood in place of metal, using a strong, closely grained timber for the purpose. Metal goods are not really restricted by anything other than price; swords cost ten times what they would most other places they've visited. Inez buys a number of trinkets and a beautifully inlaid box to keep them in, and some furs as well, exclaiming over their lushness and subtle color.
    All through the following day the visitors are vaguely conscious of a great deal of activity going on around them, but it is still an astonishing sight to see the next sun rise on what looks like an army preparing to move out under a blustery sky. They eat, dress, and hasten down to join the others and begin the procession through the city.
    Once at the stables, Emmett spends a few minutes getting to know both his and Inez' mounts - patting them, making comforting noises and otherwise establishing a rapport. (Animal Empathy check to improve the already good reactions with both horses.) The horses are not particularly impressed, but they're generally placid beasts and well-behaved. Once that's done, he slings his quiver of javelins and spear onto the animals saddle and mounts with more grace than one would expect.
    First, a dozen fully-equipped outriders, banners fluttering. Then a half dozen high-ranking priests in their animal heads and cloaks. Following them, the king and court, and the visitors -- some of the latter very nervous atop their tall mounts, however placid, and Yestin in a sledge drawn by antlered draft animals of a type they had not seen in Myrr, no horse being available to carry him. Then the huntsmen and junior priests with dogs. Then about a hundred servants (including Mihal, who has grave misgivings about this business) to see to all of the above, on foot or driving or riding other sledges packed with tents and weapons and food and all manner of other gear, and followed at last by another dozen soldiers.
    Ibn Fadil suggests to Mihal that he look at this as an opportunity to learn (the lad will have noticed that he seems to regard *everything* as a welcome learning opportunity). In particular: how the servants behave, how their so-called betters behave, the effort that goes into organizing a massive parade like this one. And how the locals react to the foreigners. "I can't watch everyone while I'm talking, but you can, if you're subtle about it."
    Used to elaborately formal military processions, Yestin feels quite comfortable under the watching eyes of the common citizenry and even puffs up a bit with pride. It would be better if he had some proper Giff medals and commendations to festoon his chest, but his service with his troop before his defection had not been distinguished enough to warrant such recognition.
    People line the streets and watch in solemn silence, and except for an occasional low-voiced order, no one in the procession speaks until they are beyond the walls. Lord Fynn, who somewhat to the visitors' surprise is riding, despite his advanced age and injuries, explains the way of things to them. They will travel inland and cross the river at Adessin, and from there climb up into the foothills to establish a main camp. After that, they depend on the gods to direct matters.
    Lynden knows all about this custom, of course, having accompanied Tesfaye on past excursions, and wonders idly if His Lordship is meeting with luck this year, and if they have executed Cyryl yet. He is aware of grumbling among the junior priests about the presence of the offwolders, especially their women, who clearly have no business being there, but just try telling the king otherwise when he's got his mind made up.... It *is* unusual to the point of being bizarre. The only explanation he can think of is that His Majesty wants to know more about these people -- *all* of them. He spends a lot of time answering Alais' questions about what's going to happen in the course of the hunt.
    Progress is slow with such a large group, but at noon they are crossing the river on a bridge of extraordinary length and height; it shows a grasp of building techniques they have seen nowhere else, and more than one of the visitors glances at Steelhand and wonders about its past. The dwarf looks entirely ridiculous on his horse but seems comfortable enough and cheerful.
    Emmett lets out a long, low appreciative whistle at the construction, and if it wouldn't be too much of a social gaff he'll ride off to view the moorkins and suchlike before crossing. (If it is too out of place, assume Inez grabs his arm or something...)
    No one tries to stop him, and that afternoon the dwarf manages to place himself beside Emmett in the line of travel.
    "You think something of our handiwork, I see?" he inquires. He does have an unusually cheerful mien for either a dwarf or a diplomat. Perhaps, living amid hostiles, it's how he copes.

    * * *

    They turn toward the mountains, then, and after going on for some more miles call a halt as dusk settles over the white landscape. Flurries of snow come and go, but this doesn't seem to bother anyone unduly. Tents are raised, fires lit, food prepared. There is still something particularly satisfying about warm food and drink at the end of a day spent in the outdoors, even one of mostly very slow riding, while the wind and distant wolves sing the moon up across the sky.
    Yestin seeks the company of General Brosh and his men, sharing meals with them whenever possible. With the General's permission, he schedules himself for shifts with any night watch that may be posted during the journey.
    This works quite well as a means of making himself popular with the men; the general is reserved to the point of taciturnity, and Yestin catches rumors that the man has been more humorless even than usual of late, a sign of something on his mind.
    Once camp is made Emmett travels out with the guards/outriders, trying to get a better feel for the woods and the local game both through striking up conversations and direct observation. He's also continuing to improve his relationship with their horses, and chatting with their handlers. When he asks 'yes, but do you train any *challenging* mounts' they aren't sure what he means--there are certainly horses that are more difficult than others, and stories about semi-legendary men who train the beasts of the air and forest. There don't seem to be any griffins on this world, and they clearly don't believe a word of his own stories. He also hears the stories they tell, similar but not identical to those he heard in Myrr, about the forest there.
    For two more days they travel, always climbing now, until at last reaching a pine wood in a sort of dell beyond the first rank of hills. There a longer-term camp is established. Servants fell trees and drag them together after the evening meal is done with. At midnight this large central fire is lit, and the priests sing and chant their prayers for the remainder of the night. The others nap, sharpen weapons, and talk quietly. Despite his earlier words, the king has not spoken much to the offworlders as they traveled. Perhaps he is waiting to see what the omens say.
    During the journey, ibn Fadil works at being the perfect gentleman: unfailingly courteous, cheerful, and (unlike most or all of the others) perfectly comfortable with their exalted company and the whole idea of having servants - and also continues to include Nyala in his conversations, whether she actually says anything or not. He asks about the horses' training and the cues and commands they expect, and tips the grooms for taking good care of them. They give him any a peculiar look, but aren't about to turn down money. Mihal later reports that he has been asked if his master is mad, or owns a silver mine?
    He also encourages some of the locals to talk about their hunting experiences, and finally rewards them with the story of a hunt he once participated in, the goal of which was to kill a wily old lion that had taken to hunting people not far from the city. He's a fairly good storyteller, and he doesn't forget to explain what a lion is. The hunt took several days, and the kill was finally made by a Prince Abdul - the hunt was undertaken partly to honor his birthday.
    His attempts to engender camaraderie are not entirely fruitless; the men are polite and exchange stories quite readily, and he quickly gets a sense for their personalities and the way they interact, which could be useful. On the whole, however there is still a sense that they've got the entire crew under a glass for the time being. Whatever comes out of their dealings with Three Trees might affect this planet more than anything else has in hundreds of years; they're being appropriately careful and not opening much at this point.
    When the first sliver of sun is visible on the horizon, the priests each walk out from camp in a different direction. They walk for a hour, then return to report what tracks they have seen. It is a clear, bitterly cold day. Lynden is pleased when near the end of his hour he comes across the trail of a solitary stag; a good sign for him, whatever it may mean for the kingdom.
    Pausing at the site of the spoor Lynden settles himself visualizing Gerik leading him on his chosen path. "Gerik guide me." He chants, his words for his ears alone, "Lift the mists of the future and reveal to me your plans for the hunt..."
    There is a distant sound of hoofbeats. The answer comes: Blood spills in the snow/ Secrets whispered to ears not human/ Beware true omens.**
    For the first day, the reports are good; there are deer, elk, boar, and bear to be seen, and the night howls prove that Rudof's children are watching over the endeavor--and still more. As Gwidon, high priest for all the realm, listens to the reports, he begins to smile, and turns to his anxiously waiting king.
    "Excellent, sire. Mastodon! They passed by not longer than a day ago."
    "Mastodon?" Emmett mouths incredulously to Inez, who shakes her head and makes a gesture indicating insanity, then one suggesting that she is going to stay in camp while he runs off and gets killed. He then whispers to Yestin, "Hey, one of those ought ta hold ya!"
    "Yes, I suppose so," Yestin nods and smiles lightly, trying to conceal the confusion welling up in his Giffish brain; he thought a mastodon was some kind of whale and can't imagine how one made it up here into this mountain wilderness.
    Emmett does try to find Lynden at this point. "Are we allowed to *hunt* mastodon, or are they holy or something?" Obviously the logistics of bringing down such game are whirring madly in the half-man's brain.
    The young priest assures him that yes, the beasts are hunted. Of course, it looks like the king is going to claim that particular prize, as the hunt begins to break up into smaller groups, and excited dogs are brought to heel, ready to venture out in search of quarry. Not everyone remains on horseback, the visitors notice, some apparently more comfortable afoot for this business. Some don't seem to be going anywhere at all, namely Fynn and the large wizard.
    Yestin dismounts his sleigh, which would of course be highly impractical for hunting. He unpacks and readies his heavy crossbow, the only weapon he owns that is usable for hunting, though not highly suitable for it. Having no practical experience with hunting, he attaches himself to one the king's party and hopes not to embarrass himself too badly. Ibn Fadil does the same, taking up his several borrowed spears. It looks as if Nyala is joining a different group.
    When Emmett sees that ibn Fadil is attaching himself to the king's group he opts to go elsewhere. Much as he likes the idea of hunting mastodon, he thinks it's better if he schmoozes a different group of locals, for diplomatic reasons. Specifically, he's looking for any hot turks out to prove themselves, hoping for the most challenging and dangerous game.
    Three main parties form, the largest heading off in the direction the mastodon might be found, and consisting of King Roald, Yestin, ibn Fadil, Lynden, the priest Gwidon, and a dozen other lords, soldiers, and priests. They take no dogs, as the track is easy to follow and the animals would be no help. About half the party is mounted, half on foot; in the snow and underbrush it is difficult to move quickly, even mounted, so there is little danger of being separated.
    A second group includes Emmett, Alais, Father Ziven, and four of the guards who have been friendliest with odd little alien, with bear as their quarry. Nyala and Pham attach themselves to a group containing only two guards, one of the younger priests, the grim-faced general and the dwarf, the latter stating that since boar is closer to his own size than any other quarry mentioned, he will be happy to attempt it.

    * * *

    The first and largest group heads out from the camp at a good pace. As they move, the visitors are told at some length by the natives about the habits of their quarry. Females and young travel together in small groups, seeking the immense amount of forage needed to keep their bulk fed; males live separate, solitary lives except for mating season and fights with one another, which happen frequently. The spoor the priest found is that of a mature male.
    For several hours nothing happens; they follow the trail down, back over the range of hills and then along the valley, whose sides grow steeper until they are likely impassible for a man, let alone something much larger. Slowly, conversation dies away, as everyone concentrates on the task at hand.
    "Getting fresher," someone notes. They pass a sheltered, grassy bay where the creature apparently spent some time feeding. A sudden halt is called in a murmur; a distant sound of cracking branches makes its way up the valley to meet them. They move forward again, more slowly, and several of the guards are dispatched to attempt to cut off the creature's avenue of retreat.
    They are approaching a bend in the now quite narrow passage--no more than thirty feet from one steep incline to the other. There is little use in stealth, the creatures being keen of hearing, but even so everyone makes little noise as they approach.
    And then it rounds the bend in front of them--house-sized and covered in long, rough fur, round little ears flapping away, trunk raised into the air and the long, dull curve of its tusks glinting in the afternoon light as it moves its head. And charges them as soon as its tiny eyes have registered their presence.
    The high priest, Gwidon, makes a gesture of blessing and stands back from the immanent battle; the collection of soldiers and nobles likewise hold back, giving their king the honor of first strike, and a chance to show his own skill and bravery, as holding a horse in the face of such a behemoth is no easy feat. He keeps his mount and flings the first spear of the day, but if it penetrates the armored and thickly furred hide it is only to deliver an irritating sting.
    Ibn Fadil is quick to deliver the second attack, and as luck would have it a more successful one; first blood to the half-elf. Yestin fires his crossbow, but misses. The mastodon's trumpet blast echoes deafeningly in the passage between the hills.
     The thing is ready to charge right over them when the others attack it from the rear, diverting its attention; they have it hemmed in. Lucky them....

    * * *

    Members of the second group find themselves climbing higher, away from the main camp. The woods are silent, no doubt a reaction to their own presence... but there is that prickling sense, not to be ignored, that they are being watched. For hours they climb, following the excited dogs along their quarry's trail.
    It happens so suddenly that only afterward is it clear what they saw. From nowhere, a massive, spindle-legged thing like a spider, if a spider is almost ten feet long, variegated black and white and almost invisible unless it moves, leaping upon a guard and sinking its fangs in, and then gone again while the man is still drawing breath to scream and his horse is still realizing that it ought to panic.
    And then there is another flicker in the trees. There are two of them....
    

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