Fool's Errand (18 page)

As the time of joining approached, young Rajiki would spend three months apprenticed to a master fletcher, who would teach them the finer skills of arrow crafting. At the end of the training, the teacher would gift them with their first dozen broadheads. She would have been ready this fall to start her apprenticeship and join the hunts.

Unfortunately, with her mother taken by sickness five winters ago and now her father missing, there was no one to present her to the tribe as a candidate to join the hunts. She had confided in Thatcher that it was this as much as anything that drove her to take whatever measures necessary to find her father. She not only loved and missed her father, but without him to present her to the tribe, she was without a people and without an identity. Rumors that a force might be forming to investigate the caravan disappearances was what led her to Aton-Ri.

Thatcher noticed these Wind Raven arrows were no dull-pointed practice arrows but finely crafted Rajiki broadheads. Their shafts were painted green and the black feathers of ravens formed the fletching. Goldain approached the trade show to see about wrapping up the delay and resuming their westward journey.

“So are we almost done with our shopping trip?” remarked the Qarahni prince. “We do have a mission to complete, you know?”

“Sorry boss,” answered Jeslyn. “We were just getting news from the tribesman. The road ahead for several miles is clear and safe.”

It was impossible to miss the sparkle in the girl’s eyes as she admired the masterful craftsmanship of the Rajiki. It didn’t take Thatcher’s keen eyes to spot the girl’s enthusiasm. It obviously wasn’t lost on Goldain either. He bought two dozen of the arrows from the traders and handed them to Jeslyn.

“Well, princess, if you are going to be an archer, you can’t go around firing practice arrows at Orcs. At least with these, you might do more than tick them off.”

Jeslyn beamed and hugged Goldain before filling her quiver with real Rajiki arrows. She smiled sheepishly.

“Um, thanks Goldain. I’m sorry about how disrespectful I was earlier. I promise I will work hard to repay you for this.”

“No need, princess. You just stay out of trouble and if we get into it, make good use of these. I have a feeling they will pay for themselves tenfold before this foray is done.”

After others had bought hides and handiwork from the traders and the Rajiki bartered for some of the dried meats and fish, both groups continued on their way. The Rajiki and Centaurs set out toward Aton-Ri and the caravan headed westward toward Dragon Pass. Just as on the first day of the journey, the caravan pressed on until the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the mountaintops. The Dragonspine Mountains grew closer and taller each day. There were no unwelcome surprises this day and everyone began to settle in again for the night.

“We lose an hour or so of travel in the evenings as the mountains hide the sun sooner than the plains,” Goldain informed the camp. “As much as I hate to admit it, rising well before dawn is a must if we are to make the best time, so my crowing rooster,” he said addressing the emaciated bard, “keep up with your morning song and awaken us before dawn as you did today.”

“As you will, my prince,” replied Rarib. Goldain frowned and ignored the bard’s formality.

“If we keep on this track and do not encounter further delays, we will press on for a couple of hours after dark tomorrow and make our camp at the eastern mouth of Dragon Pass.”

“Traveling after dark is reckless. Do you care nothing for the lives entrusted to you, Qarahni?” Xyer Garan had a tangible tension running through his large body, as if he expected to goad the barbarian into drawing steel. More likely he was testing Goldain’s resolve for peace.

“Your concern is unwarranted, Xyer,” Goldain replied. “Rajik is safe enough now that we have dealt a major blow to the raiders operating out of the Wild Lands. At this pace, we should reach Stonehold two days after reaching the mouth of Dragon Pass. We have been able to maintain such a strong pace by rotating our marchers with the men riding in the wagons. We will move considerably slower once we pass Stonehold as we will no longer be able to switch out the marching troops if we are to maintain our disguise as a merchant caravan. West of Stonehold we will need to travel slowly enough for the men to be ready for any trouble when it arises.”

As they made camp for the night, Rarib entertained the company with songs and stories while Cookie busily prepared the evening meal. It was a fine stew and prepared with many of the vegetables they brought from Aton-Ri. To this Cookie added meat from a small deer, which Kylor had spotted and shot just before they stopped. Thatcher had marveled at the young ranger’s masterful shot from a moving wagon.

“Did you see Kylor hit that deer?” Jeslyn remarked to Thatcher as they prepared the camp for the evening. “That shot must have been sixty yards at least, and on the move no less.”

“So, Jeslyn,” Thatcher answered unable to resist the urge to take the overconfident girl down a peg or two, “maybe you are not the best archer in the company.”

“I can still outshoot you and that silly contraption,” she said, scowling and nodding at his crossbow. “But I might want to see about getting in some practice time with Kylor. I’ve never seen a non-Rajiki shoot like that.”

The only one apparently not enjoying himself was Xyer Garan. He was not with the others around the campfire, enjoying the melodies and tales of Rarib but was off alone grooming his warhorse and taking his evening meal from his own traveling store.

As Cookie brought forth the evening meal, the bard ceased his song.

“This evening I am much more tired than hungry,” remarked the homely bard. “I have sung most of the day and will rest early to rise early.” With that, Rarib retired to his own tent for the night.

Cookie busied himself about the camp, making sure everyone had ample portions of the fresh venison stew. The scruffy cook was in much better spirits tonight than the previous night as there had been no unpleasant surprises to keep him from his work.

“You seem in better spirits tonight, Cookie,” Thatcher remarked as the rotund cook served a second bowl to the young thief.

“No one has done anything stupid to gum up my work tonight, boy.”

Thatcher left the remark alone at a cautious half-nod from Gideon sitting across the campfire. The grungy Podham appeared genuinely to enjoy cooking for and serving others. In the midst of performing his calling, the gruff and grumpy exterior evidenced the night before was nowhere to be found in him.

Even Thatcher’s hearty appetite was eclipsed by both Goldain and Duncan. The two had several helpings each, and when the others seemed to have done all they could to dispose of the hearty stew, it was the northerner and the Durgak finishing off the pot.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed the taste of venison,” remarked Goldain. “Deer are abundant in the Clan Lands and are our primary source of meat.”

“You dislike Aton-Ri’s fare, Goldain?” asked Thatcher.

“Eh, it serves its purpose, but stew like this is truly comfort food. Aton-Ri is a great city, but they eat mostly domesticated cattle, pigs, sheep, and chickens. Those who do venture out to hunt keep the meat for their families. There is little wild game to be found in the markets of Aton-Ri.”

“Cookie is also quite an accomplished chef, despite his disheveled appearance,” Melizar added, drawing a grumble at his comment from the unkempt cook. “This is likely a meal we will all remember for quite some time.”

Gideon soon discovered Melizar’s statement was truer than the mage could have ever imagined. Long before the songbird, Rarib, could awaken them, the entire company was roused to growls and moans both from within and from without. Their stomachs blazed in rebellion, and their mouths echoed their groans of discomfort.

Arreya was curled into a ball and yowling like a cat whose tail had been set on fire. Troopers were scattered in the fields, depositing upon the ground whatever could be retched up from their stomachs. Goldain was in the worst shape of all, not even having the strength to rise and being forced to deposit the contents of his stomach there beside where he lay. Duncan, who had eaten as much or more than the northerner, was sitting with his knees pulled to his chest, belching and bellowing like a man being stretched upon the rack in a torturer’s dungeon. He seemed far better off than the Qarahn, despite having eaten just as much as the northerner, but Duncan was still in no shape to function normally or work his healing
oth
upon the company.

The only people unaffected were Xyer Garan, Rarib the bard, who had not eaten the meal, and Cookie. Gideon, accustomed to eating lightly in the evenings and so was in better shape than most, pulled himself together and stumbled toward the cook.

“What have you done? You have poisoned us!”

“I did no such thing! I cooked the deer I was given with the stores we had in the wagon. I myself have eaten the vegetables from the wagon, so the deer must have been diseased. It is not my fault if you get sick when you bring me diseased meat to cook.” The cook’s face was a blend of looks—concern, indignation, and a hint of defensiveness.

“Then why are you not ill like the rest of us?” Gideon replied, unconvinced and choosing to press the issue. “Garan and the bard did not eat, but you seem perfectly fine. If you didn’t do this, then why are you not sick?”

It was everything Gideon could do to maintain his composure amidst the wracking pain in his stomach and the overwhelming desire to vomit. From the gurgling deep in his bowels, he felt that the worst was yet to come.

“I didn’t eat the stew. I am allergic to meat.”

“Quite a convenient excuse.”

“Truly, captain. Have you seen me eat any meat at all on this journey? I had planned a vegetable stew for us, but Kylor brought me the deer and Goldain told me to prepare fresh venison for everyone. I used it in the stew I already had planned and just fed myself on other things. I was glad that what I had cooked seemed to please everyone so, I hardly missed the fact I was eating cold vegetables instead of the wonderful stew I had planned.”

Gideon was still not convinced. How could one get as fat Podham eating only vegetables? Although the story was feasible, he himself had been in the first wagon and not in a position to observe the cook’s eating habits. He fought the growing pain in his stomach and called out for the bard, Cookie’s wagon-mate.

“Rarib, come here at once.”

The bard bounded out of his bedding and shuffled as quickly as his skinny legs could carry him over to Gideon without bothering to dress himself properly.

“Yes, captain?”

“Look only at me,” said the paladin captain clutching his spasmodic stomach. “Describe for me in detail everything you have seen Podam eat since we left Aton-Ri.”

The bard, looking thoughtful and nervous at being summoned in the middle of the night, regained his composure and answered the Parynlander.

“Well, the first day as everyone was preparing, I went with Cookie to the fruit and vegetable vendors at Aton-Ri’s west gate. He bought a bag of fresh oranges and half a dozen apples. Between breakfast and lunch, he finished the oranges and a few of the carrots and other vegetables we had. As you know for yesterday’s evening meal, he made soup with the dried seaweed we had in stock, cooked a pot of rice, and prepared some fresh-baked flatcakes. This morning, he had half of the apples he had bought and a large loaf of yochama. For lunch, he finished the last of his fresh apples along with some dried fruit we brought from stores. Last night, I went to bed early so I have no idea what he ate.”

The bard seemed to confirm the cook’s story. Cookie continued to defend himself.

“You see, it is as I told you. I don’t eat meat. If you still don’t believe me, then once the wizard recovers, you can have him use a
veritas
spell. It is basic magician
kashaph
and almost every mage learns it as one of their first spells. He can verify that I cannot eat meat.”

With the testimony of the bard and the cook’s willingness to subject himself to scrutiny by a mage, Gideon reluctantly believed his story. What horrific luck for Kylor to shoot a diseased deer. Now how would they complete their mission? Some men might even die from dehydration if the vomiting and other more nefarious effects of this situation cannot be remedied. Duncan would be able to use his healing
oth
to put everyone to rights again, but he was in nearly as bad shape as everyone else and in no condition to focus on his healing abilities. The situation was grave and even Xyer Garan was uncharacteristically sympathetic.

“Look, paladin, we have our differences, but I cannot stand to see good soldiers die needlessly. We will have to abandon three of the wagons, but the others should be large enough to hold two days supplies and all of our people. At a forced rate, we could either make it back to Aton-Ri in two days or turn north by northwest and reach the Rajiki settlement of Khalih’, which is slightly closer but over open country without a road. I could tie my horse to one of the wagons and I, Rarib, and Podam could get the three wagons somewhere that you could all safely rest and recover.”