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[size=150]Chapter 18: Signs Of Change In The Weather[/size]

___I now look forward a week and a half, or maybe two, beloved—only twelve days at most.
___The dark man lies in darkness, guarding as the others sleep. The nearby firepit-glow does not even reach the ceiling overhead.
___On occasion, Seifas looks up from his open journal, inches from his face. When—or if his turn to sleep does come, he shall pillow his head upon his book, not even rolling over.
___He has no wish to press the scabbing cuts upon his back.

___“Being in Qarfax Tower again, is making my flesh to creep,” he writes.

___A question nags his mind:
___What had Qarfax felt, before he died?
___Better to contemplate the recent past than worry about the future, he decides. So he puts his pen to paper once again.

___“This afternoon—was it only this afternoon?—we met to plan our squad’s approach, to the Tower in the dell. Portunista wouldn’t hear of bringing more than just a squad, betting all our lives on her impression of a hole I somehow left in the Tower defenses…”

___Seifas’ pen trails off, as he looks around and listens.
___Did he hear something? Was it wind…or a lost soul’s moan?
___…Wind. Even the lightest touch of a breeze upon a draft-hole under the eaves, might have made a noise as Seifas has heard. Or imagined he heard.
___Where was he at…? He scans what he wrote, to reestablish his thoughts…

❖ ❖ ❖

___She also insisted on bringing each subcommander. Maybe this only shows how much she doesn’t trust us in her absence; but we four do maximize force with minimum complement.
___Dagon suggested we take some expendable troops for “testing” trap situations. Before that villainous line of thought could be accepted, I neatly turned the tables by proposing we bring Jian—leaving the impression that he would fill this role.
___Dagon leapt at the proposition.
___Othon and Gaekwar didn’t seem to mind.
___But Portunista’s response I watched most closely.
___Increasingly, she has been seeking his company. Sometimes this can be clearly explained. Some of the vendors and soldiers, serving as porters, broke into a rousing syncopated chant, early on the second marching day. Natural curiosity led myself and Portunista both to investigate.
___Jian had taught them, and was leading the chant.
___We also found him going from man to woman to man, carrying part or all of their loads, a few minutes each.
___When Portunista saw this, she rode away again, looking somewhat uncomfortable.
___But she never stayed away. I watched her as she rode or ate nearby at times when he was not behaving oddly at all.
___She didn’t always speak to him; and when she did, it was only a minor question or politeness. Still, anyone could easily see she wasn’t treating other troops this way.
___So—when Dagon recommended that we bring an expendable man along to help us “clear out rooms,” I saw an opportunity and said: “Perhaps take Jian. He might serve us well.”
___“Perhaps,” admitted Portunista. “He has proven he can quickly think; and if we lost him, it would hardly matter.”
___But, her eyes were not so nonchalant…

❖ ❖ ❖

___And Seifas ceases writing; hearing again the quiet sighing touching on some distant flue.
___Does it herald a change in the weather, he wonders?
___Why does it seem like a warning of tragedy…?

[size=150]Chapter 19: Waiting And Humming[/size]

___Now I turn back several hours, my beloved; to watch the squad arriving.
___Seifas, having scouted ahead, met them at the treeline. He waited, watching the woods around them, while they got their view of the dell.
___“That,” Dagon muttered, “is just about the shortest, squattest ‘Tower’ I’ve ever seen…”
___“It’s bigger than it looks from here; we’re still a long way off,” Seifas reminded him.
___“Right,” Gaekwar mumbled. “Compared to that little bitty tent down there, it’s huge.”
___Seifas gave a nod. “I’ve flanked a little left and right of our advance, and also when I first arrived. But, I haven’t seen another sign of anyone.”
___The Krygian snorted softly. “Huzzah for the Hunting Cry, eh?”
___“It isn’t as though we’re magical,” Seifas growled in bitter nervousness. “If I am not given time to work, then I cannot scout anywhere thoroughly!”
___That was aimed at Portunista, who thinned her lips. She had insisted on coming here, as soon as her brigade could settle camp, after arriving late that morning and choosing a spot a little way past the valley’s pass.
___“We’re here,” she said. “So let’s do something about it.”
___“I suggest we wait to get a feel of what is out here.”
___“Fine. Don’t wait too long.”
___The juacuar withheld a sigh. Kilopaces away from camp, at the end of afternoon—of course they couldn’t wait too long! Thanks to her.
___Seifas knew that he was the only one in the squad who could feasibly keep on a mission after sunset, isolated in the woods.
___So, unless they were settled in the Tower within the next two hours or so, they would have to camp somewhere nearby. Where the owner of the tent—or anyone in the Tower—might try stalking them.
___And he would be their only real defense.
___“Is this a natural dell?” asked Jian.
___Twelve weeks after meeting him, Seifas still had no idea how much Jian knew about this sort of mission; but at least he’d asked a pertinent question.
___“No, I think it isn’t,” answered Portunista, with a final glare toward the juacuar. Then she closed her eyes and chuffed a brief semantic sequence, while the others watched and waited.
___Short, thick yellowed grass carpeted the smooth wide bowl; no trees, no brush, no hedges. Four swift brooks rushed down the slopes, diving below the center of every wall through low, wide openings. Next to the sluice of the southern wall: one door, offset and narrow. The tent had been set nearby the southern stream, within a hundred paces from the door.
___After a minute, Portunista shook her head, opened her eyes, and blinked away thin flecks of Yrthen materia. “I can’t exactly tell,” she grudgingly sighed. “The valley has been artificially shaped in small respects, but…more like sandings, or even polishings here and there, I think. Smoothings. Also,” she deepened her voice in worry, “something in the dell itself—under the dell—is interfering with my scrution.”
___“So…” Gaekwar drawled, “do we go in now, wait until the sun goes down, or wander around and try to find whoever owns the tent?”
___“Let’s just wait a bit and think,” said Portunista—then winced at Seifas’ smile.
___So they settled into place.
___Seifas took a moment to appreciate his favorite time of year: autumn’s upslope had arrived. He eased his mind by contemplating colors: the quiet slow explosions of the trees, measuring weeks instead of an instant.
___Jian had settled beneath a honey tree; its leaves were well on their way to matching his rust-colored shirt. Its sap would make him sticky on the back, however! The absentminded man might take some ribbing, Seifas figured; but would probably think it funny, too. Especially since he had only bought the shirt that morning, after hearing Seifas tell the reason Dagon wanted to bring him along!
___He certainly wore the shirt quite well: Portunista had given Jian an appreciative look, before the hike.
___So things were progressing steadily on that front; yet, Seifas vaguely felt disturbed whenever he thought about it now…
___“Hsst!” This came from Portunista, too brief to be a jotting. Moments ago, Seifas had heard her chuffing again, trying another Yrthescrution. She knelt upon one knee, head on hand in thought—but with the other hand thrown out behind.
___Pointing along the line, between them and the brigade.
___“Someone’s coming; from that way,” she whispered. The men crept closer to her. “I was checking to see if there was something unusual under the forest, like in the dell—there isn’t—and footsteps just appeared back there.”
___“Coming into your sensing range?” Jian asked.
___“No!” the maga shook her head. “Several paces within. They just appeared, between one moment and the next! Human weight, not too large, two-legged. Boots I think, but soft ones. Soon we’ll see; he’s coming directly for us.” She brushed her watering eyes until they cleared.
___The squad lined up across the path of advance; while Seifas concealed himself, preparing for trouble.
___Then the humming began.

[size=150]Chapter 20: Path Through The Woods[/size]

___Portunista certainly hadn’t expected a casual humming!
___Moments later, a short man rounded the path. His broad face exhibited plenty of smile marks, especially near his deeply twinkling eyes. Short black hair receded smoothly from his forehead, going well with dark gray trousers and field-jacket.
___He tromped to a stop, loudly threshing leaves in his way.
___“Oh me! Oh my!” He popped his hands theatrically.
___“Onto what have I stumbled here?”—by his jerky pacing and pitch, he wasn’t surprised in the least. Then his speech smoothed out, while keeping its tenored edge: “Four shady-lookin’ gentl’men, a lady whose squint could kill—ease up, doll, or those lines’ll be permanent, trust me on this—an’…lessee…” Not even moving his eyes, he kicked a pebble into the brush—eliciting a grunt. “Oh, yeah, a jaaa-guar!” Seifas rose from the brush like a spectre. “Haven’t seen one o’ yous in a while; good t’ see ya now. Don’t go gettin’ cat-a-stro-phic on me, ‘kay? I jus’ wanna see the people I’m talkin’ to. ‘Sides, that shrub couldn’t’a’been comft’ble.” The short man grinned and rubbed his hands, as if deciding what order they all should be eaten in.
___“This wouldn’t be Qarfax by any chance,” Gaekwar muttered to Seifas; who snorted: “Not even close.”
___“Qarfax…Qaaar-faax…” The man darted his eyes above their heads, as if searching his memory. “Can’t say I ever heard th’ name.” He perked, standing an inch or two straighter—not that this came to much—and tipped his head to the side. “Does he have somethin’ to do with th’ buildin’ down there in th’ lake?”
___Portunista wasn’t sure that she could spot a fellow apprentice, set loose by the chaos of the Culling; but she didn’t think this man possessed the underlying aura of a Cadrist’s power.
___“He looks more like a thug.” She eyed him head to foot with some distaste.
___His eyebrows twitched with his faltering smile, before he resumed that unsettling grin.
___“Nice voice! Betcha sing pretty good when y’re in th’ mood. At least, I betcha keep time pretty good, eh?” He grinned even wider and winked.
___“WHAT!” she bellowed—was that an innuendo…?!
___But, “Tickety-tockety-lickety-split,” he chattered while snapping his fingers; then “BAM!” he pointed at a tree. “Or, th’ like,” he shrugged. “‘Sides, y’re th’ only one here ‘thout an obvious weapon, an’ no off’nse, y’ain’t got many places t’ hide one.”
___The maga blushed with fury: her shirt and breeches weren’t that tight!
___“Don’t zap me, doll; that was a com-pli-ment, case y’hadn’t noticed. Okay, so, who’s in charge?”
___“The doll,” Othon rumbled.
___“Ah.” The stranger nodded; then bowed to Portunista. “It’s really quite…um…fetching. Really. I’m sure it’s entirely practical; it looks practical! Just…um…well-cut, yeah…help me out here, guys, I’m dyin’…”
___Portunista didn’t expect—or want!—for someone to help the little weasel…! She was thinking of “fetching” the remains of his hair to test a jotting theory of hers—but…
___“You mentioned something about a lake, I think,” Jian offered.
___“Yeah! A lake! Right! Like I was sayin’…” The slightly stocky man hustled over to the treeline’s edge. “Thanks, pal,” he muttered, before he continued: “As y’c’n see, what we have here is a lake…‘xcept,” he shook his head amused in wonder, “there ain’t no lake.”
___And he changed the shake of his head to a satisfied nod.
___Again, silence.
___He looked around, guarding his expression.
___“I take it from sap-boy’s snappy save, that yous didn’t know this was s’posed t’ be a lake, hm? Now, either yous wand’red out here in th’ middle o’ Eyeforsaken nowh—” He cut himself short with a “sorry,” and a harrumph. It occurred to Portunista that he was trying to “spare her,” as the “lady” of the group, from his profanity.
___Now she thought that steam might be emitting out her ears…!
___“—wander’d out here in th’ middle of nowhere, ‘thout a map,” he continued, “or, yous know a bit o’ somethin’ ‘bout this place I don’t. So…” he shrugged elaborately, and walked a few steps back into the woods along the path, turning to face them again. “So what’s th’ scoop here? Hm?”
___“We don’t know you, and you’re not in any position to ask us anything,” Portunista declared. He didn’t wilt beneath her glare, but did hold up his hands.
___“Okay! No need t’ get hos-tile. I’ll go first.”
___He cleared his throat. “My name…” He paused, and looked around at everyone in turn. “…is Pooralay.”
___Dagon snickered. “Well; that’s inoffensive enough!”
___“Yeah, well, I’m an inoff’nsive kinda guy. So kiss off, doll-boy.”
___Dagon choked and Portunista watched him turn a lovely shade of reddish purple! But before the Krygian could act…
___“Hi! I’m Jian.” The fair man walked to meet the stranger with a smile and outstretched hand.
___“Uh…yeah…call me Poo, I guess…” He shook Jian’s hand. “Yeesh, guys, where’d y’find this clown? Is he simple, or what?”
___“Expendable,” muttered Dagon.
___“Actually,” chuckled Gaekwar, “he found us.”
___“Ah.” Pooralay carefully watched as Jian, who shrugged, resumed his place in the line. Then he squinted his beady eyes, and tilted his head. “Do I know you?”
___Portunista’s temper doused in shock; her hearing felt as sharp as knives…Know Jian??
___The fair man thought on this a moment. “I am certain,” he replied—very carefully—“that we have never met, and that I don’t know you.”
___This didn’t seem to satisfy the little man, but with a muttered “Yeah…okay…my mistake, I guess,” he turned back to the others in the group. “Um…okay; wristboy, how ‘bout you?”
___“Uh-uh,” Gaekwar corrected. “Now you tell us why you’re here.” He emphasized this with his disker-laden arm.
___“Okay…I c’n unnerstand y’bein’ nervous ‘n all…but howsabout pointin’ that thing somewhere po-lite b’fore I get annoyed.”
___Gaekwar didn’t move; but Pooralay did. With a fatalistic shrug, he sauntered over to the ‘cowherd’, putting his torso inches from the disker.
___“Now y’re sure t’ hit me. Feel any better?”
___—a blurring hand—
___—the disker’s springy whine—!

___Gaekwar gasped and caught himself from leaping backward.
___Pooralay had stuck a short thin knife between the disker’s channeled metal slots, blocking the shuttling mechanism.
___Instantly plenty of weapons were leveled…but Jian only watched while stroking his beard.
___“Kinda jumpy, aincha?” Pooralay grinned. “Don’t move, or y’might get stuck. I ain’t nicked y’r arm—yet. Like I said,” the short man flicked his eyes around at them, “I jus’ don’t like t’ be annoyed, is all.” Pushing the disker gently to the side, with a “Watchit,” Pooralay pulled the knife from the works. The disc spat weakly out. “Prob’ly gonna need to check those springs,” the stranger suggested—Gaekwar looked as though he had swallowed his tonsils. “So big guy, how ‘bout you?” Pooralay turned to face the spiky end of an edged mace. “You gotta name, or are y’gonna be imp’lite to someone who’s ver-ti-cal-ly challeng’d?”
___The “big guy” squinted, and then replaced his mace inside the wooden frame upon his back. “Othon.”
___“Fair ‘nuff; you ‘n th’ kid with th’ sap on his back’re all okay in my book. You too,” he nodded to Seifas. “I’m okay with jaguars on gen’r’l prin-ci-ple.” He stepped five paces back, to regard them all again. “Okay, so y’wanna know why I’m here.”
___He paused, and then inhaled.
___“I’m lookin’…f’r the Well at th’ End of th’ Wood.”

Next chapter

Notes from the real author…

And so the final party member arrives. More notes on him after next chapter, but until then if someone notices that “Pooralay” is an old French word for “path through the woods”–yay for being exceedingly geeky!

I’m also being clever there (and with a thing or two said in dialogue) about a plot secret that I won’t spell out directly until somewhere toward the end of Book 5.

Meanwhile, Seifas in chapter 18 is performing one of his plot-structure functions, which is to provide some foreshadowing of the next several hours in story: we know they get into the Tower now (although the reader would easily expect that so it isn’t much of a spoiler), but not without Seifas having been scarred. And where are the others while he’s keeping watch?

(I’m secretly being a tad clever about the title of that chapter, too, but I’ll explain that in some chapter notes toward the end of Section Three.)

I also took this opportunity to drop one of my occasional hints that Mikonese time reckoning isn’t the same as ours: their weeks are only five days long.

I didn’t want to fall into the trap of some epic fantasies of environmentally describing everything that happens (although on the other hand some readers buy epic fantasies partly because we enjoy detailed environmental descriptions ), so I kept the trip to the Tower a minimal flashback, and focused more on the developing Jian/Portunista relationship en route.

While I do have one or two mental ideas of what the syncopated humming chant is that Jian taught the troops, readers are invited to supply your own as you prefer.

The concept of Jian taking a turn sharing everyone’s load on the march, is borrowed directly from the history of Daniel Boone; specifically from a detail in The Court Martial of Daniel Boone. Captain Boone was tried on six counts of treason during the Revolutionary War while at Boonesborough, as one of the first military court-martials held in the history of the United States. Had he been convicted of even one of those charges, he would have been executed; nevertheless court records indicate he insisted on defending himself despite not having any legal training. I don’t want to spoil that story, so I’ll point in the direction of the book and move along.

Dagon’s snarky remarks about how small and squat the “tower” looks (from up on the ridgeline of the dell) is a late addition, one of the last major revisions before I sent the text to the printers. I suddenly realized that my mental picture of the Tower in relation to the surrounding area was ABSOLUTELY TOTALLY WRONG on most details related to scale. Consequently, I had to rush through the text looking for references to the visual appearance of the building in relation to the surrounding valley, and make adjustments about what people would be seeing. This wasn’t pleasant, and Dagon’s remarks reflect my annoyance at having to do so.

When I originally wrote these chapters I hadn’t even remotely plotted out what would happen in the Tower, so Portunista’s scan or “scrution” only indicated the dell had been artificially shaped somehow. Once I finished the first draft, I started going back and adding bits of information to help the characters start putting together the local puzzles.

Gaekwar tends to suffer a bit from what modern writers like to call the “Worf Effect”: how badass is this or that other character?–he can give Gaekwar problems! (Star Trek: The Next Generation used to use their resident Klingon, Worf, for this illustrative purpose a lot, thus the story trope’s nickname.)

Portunista’s outfit was a little tough to describe from the perspective of the characters: it really is a perfectly sensible set of shirt/blouse, trousers and boots (with a utility belt!–like the other characters also have), but naturally she’s had it tailored to fit a woman’s physique comfortably. One of Portunista’s original problems however was vanity, and while I decided not long after this chapter to dial that problem waaaay back, I left this remnant for humor’s sake: yeah, it really is sensible and comfortable, but she had it tailored to flatter her looks, too. (Her outfit as the Empress looks even more stylish and attractive, for that matter! )