Sharing a Safe Watch with Sally

Deep in the night, in the silver-horned-stag-camp. Everyone is asleep except Alexis, who has the watch. Gustav is rolled in his blanket with Sally perched near his bedroll. Spyglass is tucked against Ethelred, one eye half open toward the fire.

Alexis sits cross-legged on the cold ground with a strip of liver and his knife and cuts it into small pieces, loud enough that Sally can hear it.

“Sally, do you want some meat? Sorry, I don’t have eyeballs.”

Sally lifts her head. After a moment she hops off her perch and crosses the ground to him.

“Eyeballs!” She pecks the dirt twice.

Alexis shrugs. “No eyeballs. Do you want this meat?” He holds out a small piece.

She takes it from his fingers and swallows it. He holds out another, and it goes the same way.

“Try to catch this one.”

He tosses a piece in a low arc. It bounces off her head and lands in the dirt. She eats it off the ground like that was the plan.

“More?”

“More!”

“Catch. I’ll make it go higher so you have more time.”

He lofts the next piece. She snaps it out of the air and gulps it down. Alexis grins.

He sets three flat stones in a row between them and holds up the last piece of liver so she can see it.

He slides the liver under the middle stone and moves the stones around one another, slowly. Alexis narrates in a low voice while he moves the stones. Sally watches with one eye and then the other. When he stops, she hops to the middle stone and flips it with her beak. She takes the liver.

“Fine. Once more.” He cuts another piece, hides it, and shuffles faster this time. She goes straight to the right stone. He does it a third time, as fast as his novice hands can shuffle these rocks. She picks the right stone again and gives him a look, as if the game is beneath her.

“Fair enough. We’ll move onto something else for a little while.”

He leans back against his pack and pulls the silver coin from his pocket. He walks it across his knuckles. Sally hops closer and tilts her head.

“Perhaps some day I can teach you simple coin tricks.”

He walks it across again. When it reaches the edge of his hand, she darts in, snatches it, and hops out of reach with the coin in her beak.

“Mine,” she says around it.

Alexis laughs quietly. “That was mine. Make a deal?”

She holds it up and looks at him.

He holds out another small piece of liver in one hand and his other hand is is palm up empty. “Trade?”

She considers it for a long moment. Then she drops the coin into his palm and takes the liver.

“Good bargain.” He rolls the coin over his knuckles once and puts it away.

Sally hops onto the nearest stone and fluffs her feathers. Her next sound is only a croak, and the one after that is another. Alexis looks at her for a moment.

“Perhaps we’ll get more time to talk some other night.” Alexis shrugs.

He picks up the stones. A piece of liver goes under the left one, and he shuffles. Sally goes to it without hesitating.

For the rest of his watch the two of them sit in the firelight, the stones sliding across the dirt and the crow flipping them over.

Another Sally Update

The grasslands spread wide, sea-wind threading faint salt through the air. E’armos is still a ways away. Alexis has finished talking to Ca’armine and walks ahead of the wagon next to Gustav, hat brim angled against the sun. His whip hangs coiled at his side. A copper coin rolls steadily over his knuckles, an old rhythm as familiar as walking. The red jasper pendant shifts at his chest, hidden more than shown.

While looking straight ahead, he speaks—voice carrying just enough.
“Way up north, before the troll attack, you told us about Sally. How she only knew ‘go’ and ‘come.’ You said you’d train her to see more. Roads, rivers, maybe even her own trail back.”

The coin moves finger to finger, smooth and sure.
“I’ve been asking for updates as we’ve gone, and it’s that time again, friend.”

A sidelong glance at Gustav, a hint of dry amusement in his eyes.
“How’s her training coming?”

Ignobility of a Jail Cell

Ca’armine does not like being caged, he discovers. On reflection, he realizes, neither does he prefer being ambushed. Or, violating the sanctity of the Collegium, which he can’t help but respect and even fear. He muses, “I can forgive myself for drawing my weapons when the enemy attacked, since they were in earnest about killing us. But I am doubtful the Collegium will overlook the transgression.

He paces. Back and forth in the cell, stepping around his companions, watchful. He has not been traveling with them long, but he feels sure they will not harm him nor help themselves without aiding him too. However, he is learning that they are not infallible.

“Who is?” he chides himself. But he realizes, in his longing to join a group, to take up the cause and make meaning out of the exile in which he found himself, he unwittingly created in his mind, a vision of these heroes (surely they deserve that title!) as larger-than-life.

“They are powerful, certainly, but they do make mistakes.” He thinks about the nonchalance with which Alexis led the stopover at the Collegium today. “Rask didn’t even put on armor! As if he could blend in with the crowd. As if any of us could!” He shakes his head.

He is loathe to tell Alexis, or any of the group, what they should or should not do… but at the same time they would be wise to emulate his long habit of stealth and concealment. “What do we stand to gain, boarding in the gaudy manor of their friend the thief? Why are we operating in Suthron at all? I long to strike a blow at the Dark Hand, but it seems we are easily manipulated, by anyone who tells us we are getting closer to finding them. We are in truth pursuing the agendas of others, more interested in gold than in justice.”

Before We Leave This Tent…

As the group is still recovering from Leer’s poison and talking about possible courses of action.

“We will leave Raff and Earika to their fight. The Sword Chaotic has a sort of gravity that I wish to move away from. Perhaps in a few years things will be different and I will have the opportunity to study it at the Collegium, but for now we will focus on other things.”

Alexis then moves to the tent flap and looks around, presumably to make sure nobody is obviously eaves-dropping. He then moves back into the tent and addresses Telosh in an even tone “You lied and deceived me when you cast that spell when I wasn’t looking. You waited for my attention to be elsewhere, and you purposely used my magic against my will. In hindsight I now realize you had been waiting for such an opportunity, possible for some time now. For an opportunity when I would have a working you could try to mimic and when I would be distracted. Pure deceit. Premeditated, and an utter betrayal of my trust in showing you anything of magic.”

Alexis seems slightly sad as he starts his next sentence “And now I can’t use magic around you, because I know you are always watching. Biding your time playing the role of a loyal companion, but actually deceiving me. Duping me into showing you magic but without the rigor, the skill, or the control.”

You can take the boy out of the country…


Sometime along the way to Yog’s fortress…

“Oi, Coz,” Telosh calls to Gustav.

Gustav looks confused, Telosh’s accent is extra think at the moment, and a little odd, different somehow from his usual Westlander, or his reasonable good Sutheroni, and his attempt at Aegerian.

“What was it like where you grew up? You’re different from Red and the other Aegerian’s I’ve met. More like my cousins, maybe.”

Telosh’s accent seems to have shifted back quickly.

“Aye, you remind me of Gorf, and Sven a bit too…”

Telosh looks away for a moment, blinks a few times and looks back.

Lucius Requests Aid

Around a wilderness campfire, after leaving the Copper Hills Fort, Lucius “Of Sutheron” slips out of his Sutheroni accent, and starts to speak.

“Well then, I clearly need some help at being from Sutheron… rather than have a noble name, which seems… complicated…. I’m thinking I’m a young bravo out to prove himself, perhaps my mother was a Westlander slave, and I am the bastard of a noble, or perhaps my mother was a Sutheroni woman of the night, and my father was a Westlands horse-trader… Something that will be understandable and also… not worth talking about?”

“What do you think will be the most… sellable? believable? At least to Aegierians?”

“Lucius” looks around at his companions, waiting for them to respond…