1629, Fire Season, Death Week, Godsday Eve
Context
A sarcastic, permanently amused Lunar has joined the caravan temporarily. Session S5-O-6.
Events
A tired young Humakti is shadowing the Scimitar. Not too close. It’s as though she’s nervous he might contaminate her. But, she seems determined not to let him out of her sight. She yawns widely, then glances around, probably checking to see if anyone caught her yawning.
Ornkarth has been nothing but polite and helpful. He and Berra are generally to be found at opposite ends of the camp, but in this case Berra is out on patrol. The Humakti commander angles in towards Nayale. Devil, deep blue sea. Nayale has a choice of which of the two gets her attention.
The Scimitar has not slept, or indeed made preparations for doing so.
Nayale glowers at him, but looks towards Berra. After the barest breath of hesitation, she turns to meet her commander, walking rapidly to close the distance. She won’t force Berra to come closer to the Lunar than is necessary.
Ornkarth hums a cheery Lunar tune.
“You need to get your head down,” Berra tells Nayale. “You’re not going to be on before dawn. Settle while it’s still light enough to settle, and close your eyes.” She does not look like she is fully rested, but she only looks Humakti-tired, not several-nights-awake tired.
The young Humakti looks grim, but otherwise does not acknowledge the Lunar’s song. To Berra, she says, “But… he needs watching. Back when we first met him, when he recognised Maalira, I could see that he was trying to work out if he could do her harm in some way. I don’t know what he’s plotting, but I’m the one who let him come close, so I need to be responsible for him.”
Berra peers around Nayale to Ornkarth. “Alright. I ain’t gonna rip a strip off ya for being so wrong, but you’re wrong. Your commander’s the one responsible. Me. And Irillo.”
Nayale looks set to argue, then yawns again. “I… Yes, Lady.” Her stomach growls audibly, as if she’s got a Telmori in her guts. She stares straight ahead, her cheeks flushing.
“Food first, then,” Berra says. “You’re setting up to fall over unless you look after yourself.”
The youngster looks to her mentor. “I don’t know what to eat,” she whispers. “Bread fills my stomach, but it’s not really helping. And I don’t want to bother anyone. But… my own supplies… I’m down to dried meat and I can’t eat that right now and I’ll need it when you send me back anyway.” Once she starts talking, she can’t seem to stop. “I feel stupid for not thinking about this, Lady. I should have had a better plan. But, I didn’t expect to be on the road for so long.”
Berra winces. “You’re with the caravan. You tell whoever’s cooking what you need. In this case, you prob’ly want the dried fruit.” She pulls a pouch from her waist, and opens it to check it. “Damn. S’got meat in, this one. Hard tack’s better for filling you. I got some.” She looks around to see what threats might be about.
Speaking of the road, up comes trouble in the form of Kolyey. She looks like she wants to kill somebody. She salutes Berra.
Berra nods to Kolyey. “Mm. ‘lo.” She does not seem to have any trouble dividing her attention between Kolyey, Nayale, and her own search for something on her person that Nayale can eat.
“My grandfather’s cook always put lard in the hardtack. He said it didn’t keep as long, but it tasted better.” Nayale would not be able to eat that.
“Hardtack with lard? You should mention that to the regiment cook, Nayale.”
“Mine’s without. It’s proper marching stuff, so no meat.” Berra gestures over to her panniers. “I help ya, Kolyey?”
Nayale reluctantly heads for the panniers.
Kolyey says, “Yes, Commander. Is there anything you want killed? Putting up with our ‘guest’ is making my head hurt.”
“If I want something dead, I can order it when I need it. Meditate on the meaning of the scabbard. And if you’ve got anything without vegetables or meat, that’s got flavour in it, Nayale could do with some. She’s off meat until it’s dark, and I want her asleep by then.”
The younger woman’s ears are red.
“Yes, Commander.” Kolyey replies as she looks through her own belt pouches. She finds something in one. “Will dried apple chips work?”
“Yep. And I’ve got some hot peppers with salt and peppercorn.” A fortune in flavour, right there. “I ain’t using them.” Berra points to the pannier in question. “N’yale, that one. Middle layer.”
Nayale returns with a wax-wrapped package. “These?” She glances surreptitiously at the Lunar on her way back.
“Better get out your water skin,” said Kolyey.
“Yeah. Get a couple into a bowl. Soak ’em in water, like Kolyey says. She’s got some apple for you, and I’ve got some stuff that will give it flavour. S’marching bread.” Berra’s other pouch is smaller, and has an inner flap. “You’ll just want a tiny pinch of that, until you know if you like it. It needs about quarter of an hour to really get wet, but you can start on it a bit before and break it up. It tastes of whatever you put into it.”
Kolyey is holding a handful of dried apple chips.
Nayale accepts the food offerings from both of them. She has a wooden bowl and spoon that she carries in her own saddle bag. She gets these and picks a place where she can prepare her food and still watch Ornkarth.
Ornkarth is meditating. He seems content.
“Sleep up at the other end,” Berra tells Nayale. “If a Sword decides to start killing people, you’ll want to be further away than that.”
Nayale stubbornly plants herself with her back against a rock and starts stabbing at her food with her spoon. “I’ll eat here though, Lady, if you don’t mind.”
“It’ll take a few minutes to soak wet. If you’re really in a hurry you can put stuff onto it that’s wetting it and scrape it with a knife, but that’s slow. The best thing to do with hard-tack’s let it take its own time.” Berra goes back to patrolling, until it is time to get Salid up for his watch, when she goes to check on Kolyey.
