Sea of Grass: 3

Trai kicked snow from his feet. Melting it would have been faster, but he seemed to use his gift all day long in the wintry horror surrounding them. Horses and oxen needing easy grazing, starting fires for cooking and heating cold wagons. Sometimes mundane means were better, even if for no other reason than avoiding Escha's anger.

Care, it really was care. Trai knew the results of a backlash from his own experience, but the gift was like a fine wine, and he never got tired of feeling it coursing through his body. Escha, well Escha was always the careful one, never to use any when it was not needed. Unless when bringing a message down hard on those who needed to fear his might, like he had done when jumping them both inside the Roadhouse. It would be a year or more before any battle mages from Rhuin dared sleeping in their own barracks without two of them standing guard inside in addition to those patrolling the walls.

A pity none but Escha mastered the ability to jump safely into a building without guidance from someone on the inside. Well, they didn't know that in Rhuin.

The reason for his fierce pride came up from behind.

"Bad feelings running rampant," Escha said.

Trai searched for listeners but found none. "No lessons tonight then?"

"Afraid not. Tomorrow maybe."

Trai nodded.

"You know, I quite liked the courtly expressions Lord Wallman used the other night," Escha said as if reminded of their tale telling lessons."

"I guess so," Trai admitted sourly. "It's a bastard's work keeping appearances up, though," he continued, thinking about the real reason for his prolonged stay away from home.

"The need is absolute. We'll continue to learn from the tales for as long as Lord Wallman will have us. There's no better teacher than a Weave with kings and courtiers."

Trai grimaced. "I'll start vomiting on my own words soon. I'd hoped for a tale well told before returning home, not a season freezing my butt off in the wilderness becoming one."

Escha laughed and hugged him. "I love you, master of mine, but you need to be seen as nothing but a pleasure seeker."

"I still hate it. Why can't I just take my position among the dukes and be done with it?"

"Master, please," Escha pleaded. "I didn't dig up the sun storm gift. You did. Now you have the powers to reduce an entire city to cinders."

Trai's eyes widened. He rapidly made the calculations in his head. The result disgusted him.

An entire city? Unholy gods, dear Escha, you're wrong, my love. I could wipe all of Ira from living memory. "I'd never..."

"I know that, and you know that. Our neighbors don't. Be patient. Ten years or less and the gift of reduction will be common enough knowledge to release you from the needs of this charade."

Trai waited for the patient lecturing to continue. It was schooling of another kind, and somewhere deep inside he admitted he wasn't exactly a master of politics.

"Enough Khars must learn how to disable the casting of sun storms. That disgusting gift should never have been rediscovered in the first place. Please play the petty lordling and keep everyone in the belief that the only glowing suns you're interested in are the jewels on your costumes."

"I still don't like being laughed at behind my back," Trai sulked.

"You'd better learn to savor that feeling. We don't want Dragonwrath all over again. Once that gift is used..." Escha shuddered. "More could master it. I don't doubt for a moment Khars from Rhuin could reduce Khanati to ashes should the wars ever escalate to the point where we no longer restrain our use of the gift in battle to insignificant battle mages." Escha's voice went softer. "At least we're in this together."

"At least that, my love," Trai murmured.

"And Lord Wallman's tales are well worth sharing," Escha added.

"They are," Trai agreed, "and he kept our hopes up," he said, remembering how winter had closed its hand around their hearts after claiming the lives of the unlucky and careless. He would play his part, and who knew, maybe one day he would master the art of tale telling himself -- a taleweaver he would never be.

The sound of horses closing in on them made him let go of Escha. Time again to prove he was learning well. Trai turned and bowed low enough for his sleeves to sweep the ground.

"What brings you here Lord Captain? I'm honored by your arrival on such a kingly steed, a magnificent beast well befitting a lady of your station."

Captain Weinak bowed ironically in her saddle. "Just patrolling, Lord Achnai."

She passed him with her men in tow. He suspected most didn't understand the Veric he had used, but some sneered at him nonetheless.

#

The meeting was a shambles, but at least Arthur got to know he had the two mages to thank for more than he'd realized. A few angry exchanged outbursts from the men assembled were enough for him to realize that without them they would have buried even more people after the blizzard in the mountains. Trai had apparently almost spent himself utterly by warming those rescued before cold blood from arms and legs could stream to the center of their bodies and kill them after they were brought back to camp. Over a dozen lives were saved that way.

The meeting, though, was still a shambles.

They stood in the open, a large ground of stamped snow ringed by wagons to provide shelter from the wind. Although the shouting had gone on for some time now people still arrived to take part in it. They wore more sensible clothes now than they had when departing from the Roadhouse. Heavy cloaks and coats, some furs and thick leather jackets. Almost all were gloved and most of them also covered their heads in one way or another. The mages from Khanati were the only ones walking around in silks only, but Arthur knew they donned heavier clothes when out of eyesight. Some stupid display of appearance and arrogance, but that was not his business.

One greybeard, in his early fifties as far as Arthur could measure, walked to the center to get attention.

"I say we turn around and end this stupid mission." His bearded face was immediately surrounded by a cloud of his breath, settling to add some more icy crystals to his beard and hair. "I say we return home before more of us die."

The rumors of dissatisfaction were true after all, Arthur registered with a sigh.

"And I say we don't." The retort came from Arthur's right, and he turned to see who had spoken.

"Why not?" This time from his left. He gave up finding out who said what and concentrated on trying to understand in what direction the arguments would eventually turn.

"No one promised us it was going to be easy. No one." It was the same voice Arthur had tried to find earlier, and this time a woman stepped out in the circle to be seen. "The mighty Khars are here to help us, and with their help this is as easy as it's ever going to be."

"Their help? Dandies from Khanati both of them."

"What about it? My wife would be dead if Khar Escha had not jumped her to Ri Nachi." The voice was filled with emotions, most spelling gratitude and awe.

"Khar Escha! Bah! As long as fagot Achnai finds his pleasure with this journey he shall order his little boy slave to do anything that will buy our sympathy."

"You ungrateful son of a whore! That slave is the only reason you are able to stand here today and voice your filth."

Arthur searched for his companions. He was worried Trai might do something horrible, and one question needed an answer. Slave? Could that really be true? Across the circle Escha met his eyes, but instead of displaying any rage he patted his temples with both hands and looked skywards with outstretched arms in a show of great melodrama Arthur had come to recognize as a part of gestures usual to the men from Khanati. It still helped Arthur to know the insults meant less than nothing to them. But, slaves? The concept was abhorrent to Arthur, and he was surprised all the same he hadn't considered the possibility. After all, slavery hadn't been abolished on Earth since after his ancestors had advanced far beyond the people here.

A roar caught his attention.

"Go home coward! Go home but go alone and don't shame the rest of us!"

"You dare to call me coward? You, a filthy bitch who fail to keep silent among men?"

"Yes, I do. I'm not afraid as your excuse for wives are. I'm proud of my husband, and he can be proud of me. We don't use marriage as a substitute for slavery in Erkateren!"

"Dirty whore! Do not call my wife a slave! She is a proper woman, not a loudmouthed piece of filth like you!"

Arthur walked away in disgust. They were not making any progress, and the insults had reached a level where he didn't even want to listen to them any longer. There wasn't a semblance of interest in talking about the matter at hand now, and with so many people armed here he didn't want to witness any fights arising if they decided insults weren't enough. They were all primitive. Primitive in their minds rather than lacking technology.

Damn them all! Damn you to whatever hell you believed in.

He angrily broke snow under his feet as he tried to find anyone who made sense, but the only member of the caravan he truly trusted to behave like a civilized human walked at his side and was an ape looking like a monster considering herself the only human present. At the moment he was bound to agree.