A Tale of Two Horses
Day of Rule, 1349 A. L. (After Landfall)
Some even among the Slow Kith thought that the Freeborn were stupid because they did not pay heed to the way of many words, because they were more of flowing mane and running hooves than of the words spoken and scratched, but that was not so. It had been the kin of Megin and no son of man that had broken the chains first, it had been they who saw the lie in the light that snared, for their eyes were not set towards the horizon where the masters had set their false way, but to the side watching for danger.
Danger was the one who built the pen and not just the screech of the Death Wings above. The Slow Kith thought their name came only from the fact that two legs could not match six, but that was not so, in the noise of man much could be lost that the Freeborn yet recalled, the wisdom of the Old Mares passed on as you would pass the best place to find water and food...
Ware the stone houses for they stand against the passing of the seasons, dead stone and poisoned earth, ware the shifting paths down in the valleys that promise water and respite but wind ever lower for there are deep sunless places where no grass grows, ware the traveler than comes bearing gifts and promises for they are often not what they seem.
The Grandmothers had tried to warn the Slow Kith, they had stampeded through the man-fields, they had left marks and spoor where the spirit seers would see, but men saw what they wanted to see. They had not driven out the strangers until they had come sixes of six and more and what use was that?
So one had to be sacrificed, one had to go down the long winding roads to sunless places, the price to be paid for the peace of the land, the sacrifice that went willing... only Megin had not been willing, not really. The First of the Herd send her here because she feared a challenge that her stiffening legs and fading sight could not match.
You go down to be lashed to the gears of the Dwellers Below and made to work where sun and moon did not shine old nag...
***
Silver did not understand money, not really. You could not eat it and you could not drink it. It was shiny enough, he supposed, and pleasing to the eye when it flashed in the light, but the little disks were hard to wear and be proud of so the notion that they would only spend so many of the coins and no more was bewildering, because he did not know if he should argue for more or leave be. What was one of those even worth?
In his heart Silver desired companionship like he had for a brief time with Mane of Fire, companion to Ziku of the Southlands, for it was a sorrowful thing to have company of the mind only with those whose shapes were so unlike his own, there was so much he could not share...
What cares man for the taste of wildflowers? What cares beast that it reminded him of home?
But there was trouble, there was always trouble when it came to such deals he had learned as much before he came into the sunless land. When a thrall escaped the chains of her master it wounded his pride, as surely as if he had been struck about the head and addled with it. All the more so when it was a 'mere beast' who escaped.
The Miller looked nothing like any miller Silver had ever seen before, he was small like all the folk of this city, but made round like a wheel of cheese with fine living and he was pale like it. He had a pair of faded green eyes and a third eye of brass in the middle of his forehead, apparently it helped him see 'stuff'. Silver didn't like the way he giggled when he said that last bit, nor did he like the way the little man was looking at him. According to Roland-Friend the strange creature had promised not to break the peace of the city while they were here to talk about Megin but... Silver listened close.
"What am I supposed to mill the 'wort with then eh? Can't use a machine, that'll ruin the whole batch, can't use common beasts or they'll breathe in the stuff and there goes my profit."
"Can you not hire assistants?" Roland asked. "If it is a matter of paying for them then we are willing to reach some agreement..."
"Hire!" If possible the little man's voice got more annoying as he waved his pudgy fists about like one beset by flies. Silver wished a swarm of biting flies on him, one fit for a whole herd. "Then they'll know all my secrets. Nay, I need a beast, one clever enough to not snort in the dust, and that means I'll have to go as far as Ironthorn and then deal with their lot..."
"Dreamwort," Silver did not hear the word, but he read it on the lips of the maybe-mate of Roland.
But then she looked at Roland and said a thing unheard. A moment later Swift Pebble passed it on.
"He's making dream-dust. It is frowned on in most of the realms of men that she knows of, though she is not sure if the same is true of this place..."
Having caught the Miller working with what might be an illegal substance do you try to press him into negotiating using this as leverage?
[] Yes, try to get a lower price that way
[] No, you do not even know if the dust is illegal here, pay as much as he asks, it is in your budget, barely (lose 1,300 Gold)
OOC: I hope the horse interlude is as fun for you guys to read as it was for me to write.
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