Chapter 6
November 14th
Goodman Harlan negotiated a price for a room and board for the night, and made sure that he was well settled before he went back downstairs to work with the Dustmen. Zechariah inquired about any news about Fjord Silverkin, but he received the same information as he had done at the gates. No news of Fjord. Resigning himself to failure, Zechariah found the room to be quite pleasant, if a little small, though he supposed that it shouldn't surprise him. Not only was Perdale's building more restricted due to it being a larger town, but also Arrongar's wealth was fairly abnormal among the serfs. He made sure he was cleaned up before going to bed and then sat at a writing desk and did some work on his newest project before heading to bed.
The following morning, Zechariah headed downstairs for breakfast, finding the Dustmen already busy devouring their food. The large one, Rushadi, was already finished it seemed and was carrying their items into the commons to prepare packing. It seemed that they were already preparing to leave after only arriving last night. They claimed that their work had been accomplished, handing in the bandit for execution, but wasn't interested in hanging around for the show. They had work to be about, and were eager to return to the Barrens, and reunite with their people. After short and somewhat amiable conversation, the Dustmen headed out again, wrapping themselves in their flowing robes, securing their veils and saddling up. However, they were leaving one behind. Nawfa stood at attention as the other Dustmen rode out of town in as brilliant a fluster as they had arrived, and soon Zechariah was alone with her. Goodman Harlan excused himself from the Inn, heading into town for 'work'. Confused, Zechariah inquired after what work an Inn keeper would have to be about, and was answered with a boring list of chores from groceries to bargains with the other Inn keepers about numbers of beds available and preparations for future celebrations. It was rather dull. (Novemebr 17th)Going about breakfast himself, he saw Nawfa pulling some papers out of a pack and began writing upon it. She sat so regally as she had done the night before, and without the accent...She was a strange Dustman to be sure.
"Do you make a habit of staring at women or is there something particularly strange about myself that you find yourself unable to look away?
Zechariah flushed with embarrassment at being caught so red handed. "No!" He exclaimed quickly. "I do not make a habit of staring at women. That would be horribly inappropriate."
"So then there is something about myself that catches you eye." Nawfa said looking up at him with her own almond eyes.
"No!" Zechariah said again feeling himself put solidly on the defense in this conversation. What was going on? "There's nothing about you. I..." He began to try to explain further but Nawfa interrupted him.
"I had not realized I was so common place." She said in painful resignation.
"I...That's..." stumbled Zechariah. "That's not what I meant."
"No? So there is something about me then? Is my scars that draw your attention, or my body?" Nawfa said putting her pen down.
"Tha...I...What's going on here?" Zechariah said trying to grab hold of the conversation.
"You're ogling me. I'm trying to figure out whether I should show more or less." Nawfa stated simply.
Zechariah blushed furiously. "That's not the reason I was staring at you."
"Which suggests that there is nothing overt about my self that is worthy of staring at...and I find that offensive."
"I was staring at you because I was confused as to why you were left behind by the others." Zechariah finally managed to explain.
"You sure there wasn't some other reason. I like to think that I may have a few reasons to be so openly observed." She said with a terribly deliberate smile.
"Yes, I can assure you that my observation was entirely objective." Zechariah said feeling like he was finally finding his social footing again.
"Well that's rather dull." Nawfa said picking up her pen again. "Who observes a beautiful woman and thinks about 'actual' business."
"Why did they leave you behind?" Zechariah prompted.
Sighing Nawfa answered "To do some work. We have to get news and information about the movements of civilization so that we can know where to go and who to serve to best profit my people. As I am the only one in my squad who is fluent enough in your tongue to not be considered a barbarian, and who is fully literate, this responsibility usually falls on me."
"How long does that usually take? And how do you make it back to your people?" Zechariah inquired.
"So inquisitive, but entirely about the wrong things." Nawfa said with a flirtatious smile. Before Zechariah could protest though she continued. "My squad will either return for me or I will find another group of Dustment to join temporarily, or I will find my own way back. It usually takes several ports or a cycle or two. It is certainly the most lonely time of my work."
"I'm sure you can find plenty of opportunities to find company." Zechariah said, meaning to be polite but instead making quite the faux pa.
Nawfa looked up sharply. "Are you suggesting that I am a whore?"
Realizing his blunder he immediately stumbled into an apology. "No, I didn't mean..." but he gave up, sighing and drawing his hand over his face.
"I enjoy a little flirtation here or there, sometimes a lot of flirtation. I enjoy a quick romp in the sack, but I do not put out for just anyone."
"I apologize." Zechariah said. "It is just that I am not used to a woman who is so forward about her personal activities.
"Apology accepted...I suppose." She said eyeing him critically. "You act either as a virgin or someone who suffered a pre-arranged marriage. Which is it?"
"I..." Zechariah protested eyes going wide. "I find that question to be horribly inappropriate. I'm am sorry for my 'ogling' but will leave you to your work." He said trying desperately to feign a confidence that he had not felt inside.
"Virgin then." She said with a seductive smile.
"Good day Nawfa." Zechariah said as formally as he could, and excused himself from the room, seeing Nawfa respond only with a playful wave. By Shimara, she was an aggressive woman. He had never felt so easily disarmed before. It was disconcerting to say the least. Shaking his head to clear it from the befuddled thoughts, he finished up his breakfast and wandered into the kitchens to give his cutlery a wash. Harlan might be a strange man as far as business is concerned, but his work needn't be made harder by an inconsiderate client. Sooner than later, and with some careful avoidance of Nawfa, Zechariah found himself upon his own horse and riding agin on his journey home.(Nov17thend)
His heart weighed heavily in his chest as he could not help but swallow his disappointment at not being able to find Silverkin, but he supposed that it was just the way of things. It was, however, crushingly difficult to accept. He had no other plans on how to find the answer to the questions he needed. Perhaps he could find himself apprenticed to someone in Uthar? It seemed like the most likely place to find someone he could not only trust but work with as well. However, that was a bridge he would have to cross when he got there, and whether the bridge was a simple foot bridge or the Kings Bridge, it would have to be crossed non the less. There was nothing that could be done this day, however, so he resolved to return home and prepare from there.
As Zechariah gathered his wits about him, and raised his head passing through a crowd of people in the streets, Zechariah saw something that caught his breath. A woman, with wondrous, vibrant red hair, walking through the crowd alone. He couldn't see her face, but he didn't have to, it was her. It was the woman from his dreams. it had to be, there was no one with such vibrant hair in all the world as far he knew.
Pulling sharply on the reigns his horse whinnied in protest as Zechariah pulled him about suddenly enough to knock a pedestrian to the floor. He cursed loudly demanding an apology, but, the woman! Zechariah threw some hasty apologies at the man he had knocked over, and tried to guide his horse through the crowds of people. Had they always been this dense? He could make barely any headway, now trying to go against the crowd he had previously been journeying with outside of Perdale. He called out to the woman, but she either did not hear or did not wish to turn, and continued on her way, speedily widening the gap between them. Desperate to catch her, Zechariah dismounted and pushed his way through the crowd violently leaving his horse behind, confused and bewildered. The sensible part of his mind screamed at him and his foolishness. Chasing after a woman he didn't know in the middle of a town he wasn't familiar with AND leaving his father's horse abandoned in the streets which would fetch a pretty penny to a fortuitous man. But none of that mattered. He had to reach her. He barreled through the crowd, but had lost sight of her after dismounting his horse. He knew the general direction she had gone, and pursued her desperately, but eventually had to admit, that he had lost her in the crowd.
He began to pull people aside, asking them desperately if they had seen a woman with hair brighter than a fire, and more red than blood, but no one seemed to know what he was talking about. Everyone he interrogated looked at him like he was a madman, and when he pulled one woman aside to ask, he was met with a fist in his face by her husband, and sent sprawling into dust of the street. Cursing, he hopped to his feet and continued trying to find her on his own. But luck was not on his side. It had never favored him. 'Stop!' he though forcing him to stop his frantic searching. 'Think about this logically. Think...think!' He paused, near an ally thinking hard. What did he know? He knew that she had appeared to him in his dreams. He knew that his dreams were getting worse. Was she just a figment of his imagination? No, he wasn't tired, he wasn't asleep. Was he dreaming while awake now? That was a possibility, but last time he had done that he had thrown his scythe into Amir's leg. It had been abrupt and brutal, and he had known he was dreaming. This...this didn't feel like a waking dream. No, he couldn't accept that that was what it was. It had to be something else.
Think! What else did he know? The hair. Hair like that isn't native to these parts. No Umarian is born with bright hair, instead having dark browns and blacks. No golden, blond or amber hair color out here. That meant that if she was real, that she had to be a foreigner. The Docks...he would have to check the logs...but no...he would likely have to bribe the dock workers and that would not only be dangerous but also expensive. Also, there could have been any number of people with red hair coming through Perdale, as the Norgraithians had recently passed by. Perhaps she was a spy or informant for King Aurvan, in which case he would never be able to locate her...except, with hair like that...she wasn't likely to be an agent of subterfuge. But where else? That question hung for a long time, and he had no answer. Eventually, though he didn't believe that he would find any answers, he headed went to find his horse, who he fortunately found in the hands of a street urchin. The urchin was standing patiently by the side of the road, the horses reigns in his hand, suspiciously eyeing everyone who passed.
"Eh! Move on!" He cried out as Zechariah approached him.
Zechariah paused a little taken aback. "That's my horse." Zechariah said approaching.
"No it isn't. This horse belongs to my master!" The little runt said.
Suspecting a con Zechariah asked, "And who might your master be?"
"He's a lord you see. A wealthy man. He said, 'hold these here reigns, and wait till I get back, and I'll give you a silver draw for your careful watching.'" the urchin said boldly.
"A silver draw?" Zechariah asked incredulously. "You sure he didn't say silver drop? It's easy to get confused."
"Nope!" Exclaimed the little urchin. "Silver draw he said. And not a drop less!"
"You don't want a draw kid. Harder to palm they are. I'll give you a silver drop and two coppers, that's a fair Farmhand's day's pay that is, and you can keep them safer than a draw." Zechariah bartered calmly. This kid was annoying him, but it wasn't worth trying to get the guards involved.
"Daylight robbery that is! Two silver drops. No less!" The urchin said.
Sighing, Zechariah got two silver drops out, and gave them to the urchin, who barely managed to keep his eyes from widening in glee. "Pleasure doing business with you sir!" He said practically throwing the reigns at Zechariah and dashing off so fast one might think that the guards were already on his tail. Well...that little bastard dealt with, Zechariah mounted up and rode to the docks, resuming his search.
The docks were huge. He knew that they would be far bigger than the ones at Hyran, but he hadn't been prepared for just how massive and busy they were. It was almost mind boggling just how crowded they were. a full two fleets of merchant vessels sat anchored at the docks, and there were still a full nine docks unused. Hundreds, if not thousands of people went to and fro, some carrying boxes, other standing around in groups talking, some running messages. All along the docks were large cranes on wheels that were dragged on rails to and from ships, that would help bring in the larger crates off the merchant ships with ease. Not knowing where else to begin, he asked a passerby where he might find the dock master, and was promptly informed that it depended on which region he wanted to talk to. He was quickly informed that the docks were separated into regions, and each region controlled different trades, and each region master reported to the Dock master who worked for the Uthar trading guild. He was also informed that if he wished to speak to the actual Dock Master, that he would likely have to put in an appointment for a time several ports from now.
Despairing further, Zechariah made his way to one end of the docks, the less busy end, and found the Region Master there, and waited patiently for a time when he was not busy to ask him about whether or not he remembered seeing a woman with bright red hair coming through his port. He was met with not only a confused 'no' but also with a steady assurance that he should be bothered with such nonsensical requests again. Zechariah, headed on to the next Region master and inquired again, finding the same results.
He continued this for quite a while, beginning to rapidly lose hope of ever finding his quarry, and was aware that the Sun was already past it's fourth Rise, and well on it's way to the Zenith of the day. He sighed, he would have to head off now if he even wanted to make it back before the day was over...though, he wasn't particularly eager about the notion of riding during the night. Cursed shadows. Just as he was about to give up hope when, rather fortuitously, he was informed by one more helpful Region Master, that if he had not found the person of interest he was after here, that he should check the Caravan teams. Zechariah was confused.
November 15th
Caravan teams? He didn't know that they were still around. Surely with how dangerous of a trip it was to Uthar, caravan's wouldn't make a profit. It was ludicrous. The Dock master however just shrugged saying that some people make it pretty good time, but that he should check it out. Considering that he didn't really have another lead, Zechariah got directions to the Caravans. He made his way to the For end of the ports and further before he entered the warehouse district, which armed mercenaries guarded their master's goods. They gave him suspicious looks as he wandered the district trying to find the caravans, and eventually came across a team of wagons outside of a ware house unloading a host of goods. He noticed that there was quite a high number of guards here, who began to block his way as he approached.
"Excuse me." Zechariah called out as he approached upon his horse. "Who is in charge here? Is there a Caravan Master around?"
"That would be me." said a rather lanky individual, taller than Zechariah would be standing, but quite willowy. "Who's asking?"
"My name is Zechariah Feldman." he said introducing himself with an awkward bow. "I'm looking for someone. A woman."
"Aren't we all?" was all the man said, folding his hands before himself and watching Zechariah without another word.
"I...I was wondering if you had seen her. She was average of height, but pale, like the Norgraithians, with bright red hair. More red than usual, deeper. She walked with a feline grace. It'd be hard to miss her."
"I'm sure it would be, for you. Who is she to you?" the Cavern Master asked calmly.
"What?" Asked Zechariah. "Why does it matter?"
"It doesn't. I just like to know things. Helps to stay one step ahead of your adversaries." He said with a wide grin.
"I'm not your adversary my Goodman." Zechariah protested.
"Freeman." He corrected, "Of course not. It pays to be cautious though."
Getting tired of this conversation Zechariah insisted, "Have you seen her or not sir?"
"As a matter of fact, yes. Yes I have."
"Really?" Zechariah exclaimed sitting forward eagerly in his saddle. His horse shifted sensing his excitement. "Where?"
"In the Barrens. I passed her caravan on the way into town this morning. By now, however, she must be more than half a day's journey into the desert."
"Why was she going into the Barrens? That doesn't make any sense." Zechariah said taking tight hold of his reigns.
"To trade with the Dustmen of course. Or, at least that's the only reason I can think of for going into the Barrens." said the Cavern master. However, as Zechariah swung his horse around, ready to ride off into the desert the Cavern Master said, "You'd better not be entertaining the notion to pursue her. By this time, she'll be well into the desert, and you are not currently equipped to survive it. You cannot travel the Barrens unprepared."
"Damn it!" Zechariah said, knowing that the Caravan master was right. "Do you know of anyone going into the Barrens in a caravan? Someone I might join for protection?"
"Right now?" the master asked incredulously. "Her Caravan just left. No, there will not be another caravan journeying that way until the end of the Cycle. In fact, I have plans to be driving that caravan myself."
"Any chance that I can convince you to go sooner? I can pay. We can be on our way tomorrow perhaps?" Zechariah asked desperately.
The caravan master just scoffed at him. "Of course, let me just send a message to the Uthar and inform them why I failed to deliver their goods to the Dustmen. I'm sure King Malik would be very understanding."
"Curses man! You needn't mock me!" said Zechariah angrily.
The infuriating caravan master simply pretended not to hear his outburst and instead straightened his clothing, dusting some sandy debris from his shoulder.
"When do you plan to leave?" Zechariah asked. "Specifically." He added not, wanting to give room for further nuisance.
"I plan to leave the same day that the good from Uthar arrive." The caravan master said pretending to be trying to be helpful.
"I said 'specifically'." Zechariah said letting too much anger enter his voice.
"Exactly. That is the specific day I will leave." The caravan master answered.
"What is your problem?" Zechariah asked fully exasperated.
"Chronic Rumination. Incurable I'm afraid." He replied as calmly as when he first started talking.
Gripping his reigns tightly, and through clenched teeth, Zechariah asked, "What date is your shipment due to arrive?"
"On the 80th of Frakdios." The caravan master said, smiling gently to himself as though he had just done Zechariah some great favor.
"Thank you. Sir." Zechariah said, shortly. He wanted to say more, to ask more, but this insufferable man was getting under his skin. Instead of risking his temper any further, he rode off, heading back to the Broken Arrow.
He stayed one more night in the Broken Arrow Inn, speaking at length with Harlan about what one might be expecting to need on a journey into the Barrens. Light colored clothing, and a lot of it. Several veils and extra cloth to be tied around the mouth when the wind picks up too much. The veil will keep out the lighter winds, but heavier cloths are needed to keep the sands and dusts out when a storm begins to pick up. A shovel, to dig yourself some shelter should a storm hit, and to dig yourself out when the storm passes. Masks for your horses, to keep the sands out of their eyes and noses. A lot of water. Dried foods. Blankets for both man and horse, for when the night falls so does the temperature. Weapons, in case of bandits or wild life and last but not least, prayers, that you are not found by the Rock Wyrms or...more dangerous denizens of the Barrens. As much as the caravan master had angered Zechariah, he was right. Zechariah was not prepared to journey into the Barrens alone. Even if he did have everything Harlan talked about, he didn't have the experience to know when to dig and when not to, when to find shelter and when to march, what to forage and what to avoid. He needed a guide and...though it dug under his skin, he needed the caravan master. At least, he thought, he knew how to prepare.The next day Zechariah went around the merchants in Perdale quickly and bought everything that Harlan had mentioned needing and, before the sun rose too high, began his journey home.
It was just beginning to get dark when Zechariah approached his father's farm. Though it was stressful and headache inducing, he found that he had quite liked running on his own, searching on his own, looking for things, trying to find answers. He found that, as he approached the farm, a dread began to settle over him again. Conversations would have to be had, and Zechariah was not looking for to any of them and...speak of Shalzar, here came one now.
"Zechariah!" Amir called from the porch as Zechariah rode past, the horse more heavily laden than when he had left. "Where have you been? What have you been off to? By the Gods Zech! You left without saying anything!"
"Sorry Amir. I'm fine." Zechariah said as he dismounted and began unpacking the horse.
"You're fine? That's it?" Amir asked offended. "Zechariah, what's going on? Father has refused to say anything on the subject save 'He's got to find his own path.' Just what in the Nine Realms is that supposed to mean?"
"I asked him about my hand." Zechariah said, continuing to unload his gear without looking at Amir.
"Oh." Amir said, suddenly silenced. "And he..."
"Yes. He told me." Zechariah answered the unspoken question.
"Then, you will be going?" Amir asked.
Instead of answering that question, Zechariah asked another. "Do you know what the shadows are?"
"The shadows?" Amir asked thinking. "I remember that Father said something about them. Said that your hand was demon possessed, and needed to be purged by fire but...that was just an excuse right?"
"No." Zechariah, looking towards the lengthening shadows of the growing dusk. "The shadows are real."
"How..." Amir began before Zechariah interrupted him.
"I spoke to them, in the woods, the day of the festival. Or...rather...they spoke to me." Zechariah explained.
"That's what you were so panicked about that night?" Amir asked?
Zechariah nodded. "They..." Zechariah began wanting to explain something, anything, but he couldn't figure out what to say or how to say it. "They told me to leave Hyran." Zechariah finished, returning to his work.
"Well...perhaps they're not that smart. You were already itching to do that anyway weren't you?" Amir said encouragingly.
"Yes and no. I wanted to leave, but I had no real plans to. Just a thought, an itch. Now? Well...now I'm really going." Zechariah explained.
"Wow." Amir said somewhat speechless for words. "I don't want to try to dissuade you at all. I think it's the right decision but...are you sure it wasn't a dream?"
Zechariah froze in the middle of his actions. He hadn't thought about that. He had 're-awoken' after the shadows faded, hadn't he? Did that mean it was all just in his head then? Or had they induced a trance or vision on him? "It doesn't matter." Zechariah said. "Dreamt or not, they're real. You heard what Fjord described. There is no reason that I would be having such vivid dreams, so regularly, if they didn't mean something."
"I suppose." Amir said still uncertain.
"Also..." Zechariah began hesitantly. He kind of hoped that Amir hadn't heard him, but seeing his expectant look Zechariah continued. "I saw her...in Perdale."
"What?" Amir asked eyes going wide. "Did you get to talk to her? Who is she?"
"I tried, but she got lost in the crowds. By the time I managed to track her down I learned that she had already left Perdale earlier that morning, heading into the Barrens."
"So that's what all this is." Amir concluded.
"Ya. I found her Amir." Zechariah said intensely. "I actually found her! I have to go after her. I...I have no other choice."
"What if it's not her, or what if she doesn't know you? What will you do then?" Amir cautioned.
"I don't know. If she doesn't recognize me then...I'll just have to get to know her the old fashioned way." Zechariah said leading the horse to the stables. Amir followed hopping along on a cane for support. He was healing well. He probably shouldn't be ignoring the crutches yet, but he was glad to see him progressing so well.
"If you can't find her?" Amir asked exercising the hypothetical.
"I'll make my way to Uthar and see if I can't find a way to get some answers. I need to know what the runes mean. I don't know who I'll ask for that but...I have to try to find someone. If I can't find the woman from my dreams, or she doesn't know who I am or anything about the runes, then I'll have too look elsewhere. Either way, I can't stay in Hyran."
"When do you plan to leave?" Amir asked.
"By the end of the Cycle. I found a caravan master heading the same direction as the Red Haired woman. He is leaving on the 80th...so...I'll be leaving on the 78th. I'll need a day to get to Perdale, and then a day to get any final things ready before leaving." Zechariah explained.
"And Father?" Amir asked.
"What about him?" Zechariah said trying to sound casual as he wiped down the horse.
"I had thought that you might be able to have time to smooth things over with him before you left. I knew the conversation about hand would cause some waves, but I didn't think you would be leaving immediately." Amir said feeling guilty about his part in these affairs.
"I'll...talk with him." Zechariah said tightly. "But it's not just because of his deeds Amir. It's beyond that."
"I know. But I'd hate for you to leave on bad terms." Amir said.
"Don't worry Amir. I'll have a talk with him." Zechariah reassured.
"Good. I suppose you won't be around for my wedding then...will you." Amir asked.
Zechariah's eyes went wide. "By Aleen!" He said placing his hand upon his brow in shame. "Oh Amir, I completely forgot!"
"It's okay I suppose." Amir said with resignation. "You've already given me the greatest wedding gift." He said fingering his ring. "Though...I don't suppose you know if these shapes have any meaning do you?" He asked suspiciously.
"I'm afraid not. If I do find out, I'll make sure to send you a letter and inform you." Zechariah said...accepting that he was letting his brother down. He returned to caring for the horse.
"Do you know how long you plan on being away from home?" Amir asked, leaning against the stable walls.
"I'm afraid not. At least until I get some answers but...well...that could take years." Zechariah said despairingly.
"There may not be much left in a few years." Amir said solemnly
The shadows were growing longer. Zechariah wanted to work quickly, but the subject of their conversation kept stopping him in his work. Grave matters require grave attention.
"Yet..." Amir pondered, "being ruled by the Draconians may not be that bad. I've heard that they only slaughter those who raise swords against them. Perhaps they'll just leave us smaller people be. What do they gain by killing us?"
"What?" Zechariah asked in horror. "How can you say that?"
"Say what? That we may be better off not fighting?"
"Yes! How can you say that?" Zechariah repeated.
"I don't know. I'm just saying, we might be better off surrendering then having them burn our lands to the ground." Amir said defending his statement.
Zechariah scoffed in disgust. "I'd kill them all if I could. Demons like that don't deserve to rule."
"That's rich coming from a demon spawn like yourself." Amir said challenging Zechariah.
"I...That's..." Zechariah stammered trying to find a retort. "That's different. I didn't choose this." Zechariah said raising his left hand. "They choose to slaughter innocent people." He said confidently but added more quietly, "My destruction is accidental."
"I understand Zech." Amir said grabbing his cane and getting ready to walk as Zechariah packed up his equestrian grooming appliances. "But, perhaps, sometimes it's good to try and see things from another view. Not necessarily to accept that view, but maybe the world would be better off we tried to see things from more angles, then just down on them."
"Sure, if you are talking about farming techniques. But in regards to the genocidal rampages of demons? No...there's no need to even give them the angle of looking down on them. Just squash them and leave them in the dust." Zechariah said vehemently.
Amir just shrugged as they made their way back into the house. Amir explained that Arrongar was out tonight, working late on the dower and meeting with Dawda. Amir and Zechariah took care of things around the house, though it was mostly left up to Zechariah and then, after saying his evening prayers, Zechariah went to sleep.
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