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urprisingly, he rises. "That's about it. Oh, and I can ride; I have the itinerary. We'll be travelling via couriers' stations to Birechan, and from there into Avrezin...circumspectly, I suppose. I'll see you at the stables after esyan." [Esyan ~= breakfast.] "*You* have the itinerary," she mutters. Well, if that's the way they want it. She supposes they have to make him feel as if he were an important part of this mission--it can't do too much harm to humor him. Fortunately, Lynx doesn't seem to hear her. The next morning, she wakes early and shakes off her disorientation at finding herself in such luxurious quarters--luxurious for a scout, anyway. The same gangly trainee offers her esyan. She wonders whether he's on permanent serving duty. Mild compared to some of the things *she* had to go through as a trainee. Then again, they had been more in the way of punishment than duty; occasionally she had been just a *little* insubordinate. Well, more than a little...but they had deserved it. And she's sure none of them had quarters like these. She casts a critical eye over each of the walls, then shrugs and walks through the door, pack in hand, without another thought for them. The trainee only seems relieved to see her go...and manages to keep himself from spilling a couple things as he exits with the now-nearly-empty esyan tray. Marika is the first to the stables; Lynx shows up a few minutes later, sleepy-eyed and clumsy--he nearly walks into a door. She doesn't know whether to laugh or throw her hands up into the air. She lets her hair fall across her face to hid her half-smile, half-grimace. Not that she thinks he's capable of taking offense. He hands her a scrollcase and says, "That's the itinerary, but they don't expect us to be strictly on schedule if we're going through mountain trails and what-have-you." He's dressed in a sober traveller's outfit, nothing flashy, nothing military. Marika feels some grudging approval for his choice of apparel, which matches hers. She tucks the scrollcase away, reminding herself to take a look at it later. Lynx makes it to two stalls where horses have already been prepared and provisioned. He's not bad on horseback. Marika, however, has never learned more than the basics of riding. The streets are uncrowded in the morning, meaning there are few people to note their departure. They leave through the gates and head out with the few merchant trains and travellers leaving Tenu. They break twice, for bhuyan and kayan; to Marika's irritation, Lynx doesn't seem to be in the least saddle-sore. [Bhuyan ~= lunch, kayan ~= lunch/dinner.] She tries to imagine him climbing a wall or skulking down a hallway and immediately feels better--emotionally, at least. Physically, things get worse, but she grits her teeth and endures. She's not going to complain to *him*. At last they stop for the night at a waystation. Over qevyan, Lynx looks across the table at Marika and sighs. "By the time we get there," he says, playing with his chopsticks (which means he keeps dropping them and picking them up again), "the situation will have changed." Then he brightens. "Who knows, maybe Commandant Miris will have reappeared!" One of the other travellers, a plump merchantwoman, overhears them and says, "You can't trust the military to do anything right." The rangy, bearded man, who must be one of her hired guards or escorts, laughs. "Least hint of sword-rattling, and what do they do? Plan for war. No negotiations, no intelligence-gathering, nothing. Just war. Damn inefficient way to run a country." Lynx says cheerfully, "Better them than me." He gives Marika a worried look out of the corner of his eye. She has a neutral look on her face, carefully cultivated to keep people from noticing her presence, always useful for collecting gossip and rumors. It doesn't work, of course, if someone else brings attention to her. She studiedly ignores him--not too hard--and concentrates on her food and the others' words. A young girl approaches shyly with a pitcher of water. "Here you are, fresh from the spring, just like you asked," she says, putting it down beside Lynx. Prone for an accident that. Lynx pulls a fifth-mark from his pocket, and hands it to the girl, sending the pitcher for a teeter. The girl deftly stops its wild movements before it sloshes out. Lynx smiles, hands her the coin, and returns to eating. She looks about ready to make some conversation; indeed, she turns to Marika...and then turns away from the emotionless gaze she wears. She wanders back to the bar. "It's all because of Rahen," the woman says bitterly. "More taxes on *us,* but military suppliers are exempted. The man is obsessed and no one has the courage to speak up to him." [Reminder: Daziros Rahen is the marshal of Qenar...whom Marika recently met.] Marika nearly coughs up her last bite. After all, what was it that she did? At the sound of her cough, Lynx looks up, and profers the pitcher of water (spilling a bit on the table and floor). He blinks at the sudden puddles of water, and puts the pitcher back down beside him (succeeding only in spilling more on the table). He sighs. Marika sighs as well. At least, she consoles herself, no one will believe they're military; no matter what they think of it, they surely won't believe the military to be stupid enough to take *him* in. Which, in fact, makes her wonder... "Come on, now," says Lynx cheerily, "we're out of the city now. There isn't much to worry about now. I think being so gloomy simply isn't an option right now. No one's going to think we'r—-" He cuts himself short before stating what simply shouldn't be stated. She arches a brow at the near-indiscretion and smoothly interjects, "Think we're klutz and keeper, the way they did in the city? Don't be so sure." Lynx stops eating and scratches his cheek. "You're probably right. People see what they want to see, not what they're wanted to see." The sentiment locally seems to be mixed: people dislike Rahen, but fear him too much to do anything but grouse in waystations and guesthouses. Definitely not promising. As they turn in for the night, Lynx says to Marika in a low voice, "Should we continue visiting waystations in hopes of hearing useful things, or...? Some of these people don't look too friendly, 'specially if they realize we're military."
Back: Marika's Prologue 8 Tower graphic courtesy of Clipart Castle.
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