“ Some ways uphill, the mountains if you will, is an old outpost. Beneath it, lies the lost repository we spoke of last year. Says so in this writ— “ A slip of parchment, sound like dry leaves in the wind. He snatched it from the air, neutral severity on his face slowly turning to outright dissatisfaction.
“ To me just says that it’s days away — What do you want from there? “
“ Didn’t you see the drawing on the flipside — “ An indicating gesture, amidst a sip of something warm. He merely glanced at the picture, a perfect sphere set on a triangle of legs. Some markings. Insufficient.
“ Some scribble. No weight, no material, no dimensions. What’s in it? “ He put the note on the table, tapping it with his fingers.
“ We don’t quite know. Historical significance not enough for you? “
“ No. “
“ Well, thankfully you owe me one. That’ll suffice am sure. ”
It did, his face a begrudging image of it as he flipped the paper back around, shoulders sagging as he gave a sigh.
“ I’d simply like to know how heavy it is. “
“ Heavy as a day is long.”
“ Well, that’s not much at all. “
“ Wrong. It depends. “
The mountain stream splashed as he made across it, his burdened hop not enough to clear the entire breadth. Despite it being only early autumn, the air had already chilled up here significantly, the occasional trees a bunch of dark, leafless things. The moisture in the air made the cold travel through garments and all the way into the bone marrow at every gust. The only thing keeping him warm, sparing extremities, was the vigorous pace their shepherd of a guide had kept.
If the woman wasn’t a retired postal worker, he had a goat for an uncle. He’d never seen a single sheep walk this fast.
Well, some fortune if the breakneck speed granted them one less day up here. In this feeling he’d appeared to be rather alone, as the squire he’d taken with on this little impromptu expedition kept up brilliantly. Not a single complaint, no matter the thinning air and all besides.
No wonder he’d been told that she was just about ready to be sworn in. What with her being significantly taller and hardier than two thirds of people he’d met in his life, he almost felt silly calling her Squire. And that had been before the shepherd had taken him for the squire out of the two of them, first they’d arrived at the village some half a day downhill by now.
The travesty. Not to say he hadn’t half entertained just going along with it. Perhaps he would’ve then been excused from maintaining an amount of decorum as time was wasted with whichever menial task, so much faffing around before they could depart anew. Now, it’d likely be dark before they’d traversed all the way back down later today. He’d already decided he’d rather risk that, than spend a night camping out here.
Or worse, in the dusty cobwebbed outpost. There might even be a corpses, rats or mold there — a clear health hazard. Thinking of such things, he glanced past his shoulder at Gruki and hooked an index into his scarf, pulling it down from where it covered half his face.
“ You alright there, squire? That slip you took on the stones earlier looked rather nasty. “
“ To me just says that it’s days away — What do you want from there? “
“ Didn’t you see the drawing on the flipside — “ An indicating gesture, amidst a sip of something warm. He merely glanced at the picture, a perfect sphere set on a triangle of legs. Some markings. Insufficient.
“ Some scribble. No weight, no material, no dimensions. What’s in it? “ He put the note on the table, tapping it with his fingers.
“ We don’t quite know. Historical significance not enough for you? “
“ No. “
“ Well, thankfully you owe me one. That’ll suffice am sure. ”
It did, his face a begrudging image of it as he flipped the paper back around, shoulders sagging as he gave a sigh.
“ I’d simply like to know how heavy it is. “
“ Heavy as a day is long.”
“ Well, that’s not much at all. “
“ Wrong. It depends. “
***
The mountain stream splashed as he made across it, his burdened hop not enough to clear the entire breadth. Despite it being only early autumn, the air had already chilled up here significantly, the occasional trees a bunch of dark, leafless things. The moisture in the air made the cold travel through garments and all the way into the bone marrow at every gust. The only thing keeping him warm, sparing extremities, was the vigorous pace their shepherd of a guide had kept.
If the woman wasn’t a retired postal worker, he had a goat for an uncle. He’d never seen a single sheep walk this fast.
Well, some fortune if the breakneck speed granted them one less day up here. In this feeling he’d appeared to be rather alone, as the squire he’d taken with on this little impromptu expedition kept up brilliantly. Not a single complaint, no matter the thinning air and all besides.
No wonder he’d been told that she was just about ready to be sworn in. What with her being significantly taller and hardier than two thirds of people he’d met in his life, he almost felt silly calling her Squire. And that had been before the shepherd had taken him for the squire out of the two of them, first they’d arrived at the village some half a day downhill by now.
The travesty. Not to say he hadn’t half entertained just going along with it. Perhaps he would’ve then been excused from maintaining an amount of decorum as time was wasted with whichever menial task, so much faffing around before they could depart anew. Now, it’d likely be dark before they’d traversed all the way back down later today. He’d already decided he’d rather risk that, than spend a night camping out here.
Or worse, in the dusty cobwebbed outpost. There might even be a corpses, rats or mold there — a clear health hazard. Thinking of such things, he glanced past his shoulder at Gruki and hooked an index into his scarf, pulling it down from where it covered half his face.
“ You alright there, squire? That slip you took on the stones earlier looked rather nasty. “