Ben's NaNoWriMo Log

Chapter 14 added Sep 23, 2005
When they got up the next morning everything seemed the same as the day before. They continued on down the road, chatting about what they hoped to find up ahead. Syphar said nothing about the night before, and Sarah began to worry that she had been too forward. She wondered if perhaps he didn't even remember. When they stopped at midday to eat, Molly gave Sarah another fencing lesson. As they practiced guards and lunges, Sarah could see Syphar watching them out of the corner of her eye. He had watched them practice before, with an amused look as though he found the thought of poking each other with sharp bits of metal quaint. She circled around Molly one step at a time, until she had a clearer view of Syphar's face. He wore a different expression now. It wasn't a look that Sarah was used to seeing, at least not directed at her. She had seen it often enough on the men around Lucinda, though. Sarah smiled to herself and pressed an attack on Molly, driving her back a step at a time. Perhaps a bit of aggressiveness was just what she needed. Molly was finally able to trap Sarah's blade under hers, driving the point into the soft earth. "Whew! Where did that come from?" Sarah grinned. "I'm supposed to be a vicious Kufriti swordswoman, right?" "That you are," Molly said, chuckling. "I didn't know you had it in you." "Neither did I." Sarah could see Syphar's expression from behind Molly. Nor did he. Ever since that day at Hightower, Sarah had felt as though she were on a runaway wagon. For the first time, she felt as though she was able to take control of her life. When they came to the next town, San Frinalo, she asked Syphar to keep quiet about his profession. "I'd like to see if we can earn our keep without your help," she said. She realized that might have sounded a bit harsh, and added, "Not that we don't appreciate--" Syphar smiled and cut her off with a wave of his hand. "I understand what you mean. I'll just think of it as a little vacation." San Frinalo turned out to be a mining town, though it was nothing like dreary Coppergate. From what they could gather, there were several large groups of miners who used the town as a central trading post, as well as a number of smaller groups and individuals who had staked out their own claims up on the rocky slopes. "How do they maintain any sort of order?" muttered Sarah, shaking her head. Molly shrugged. "If it's like any other Midlander town, they have a council that makes the laws. It's probably full of the bigger mine bosses and a few lucky prospectors. I think a lot of problems are just settled on the street." She pointed out a number of people nearby, all of whom had some sort of weapon on them. "I suppose," said Sarah dubiously. After a lifetime under the protection of Crown Bay's city watch, the idea of this sort of justice seemed barbaric. "Of course, they could be part of a town militia," said Molly. "Or both. Small towns tend to take care of themselves one way or the other." They spent the night at an inn, spending as little as possible to get a roof over their heads. The common room of the inn was fairly full, so Sarah bedded down on one side with Molly and a few other women. It was nearly impossible to pick Syphar out of the mass of snoring miners on the other side of the darkened inn that night. Sarah sighed and contented herself with recollections of the night before. The next morning, several of the miners who were at the inn the night before were gathered around a pair of wagons outside. They were loading sacks and crates on the wagons, each marked prominently with symbols and names denoting ownership. Apparently, there was safety to be had in numbers, especially when transporting precious metals. Sarah and Molly were easily able to pick out the caravan master: he was making notes of names and cargoes in a ledger laid out on the tail gate of one of the wagons. They approached him, but he seemed not to take notice of them. Sarah cleared her throat. "Excuse me," she said. The caravan master looked up from the ledger. When he spoke, it was with the slow drawl common to the more central parts of Ahandria. "Yes? Can I help you, miss?" "We were wondering if you were hiring guards for your caravan here." The man nodded. "Oh yes, there's always room for an able bodied man who can swing a sword." He looked around behind Sarah. "Do you have a brother or husband who's interested?" The question took Sarah aback. She knew she was no great fighter, but there was no call for him to be so insulting. It took a heartbeat or two for her to remember where she was: she had always heard stories of how Ahandrians treated women, but she had passed them off as exaggeration. Apparently it was unthinkable to this pudgy little man that she might be able to use the sword she carried. Ever since they had crossed the border, Sarah had been trying to blend in by emulating the speech she heard around her. Now, as she pointedly grabbed the hilt of her rapier, she instead affected the most clipped Kufriti accent she could muster. "What makes you think I need a man to do my fighting for me?" The caravan master blinked, looking at Sarah as if for the first time. She could see as he registered her mannish dress and the rapier at her hip. He glanced over at Molly, who simply crossed her arms and let her scars speak for her. "Ah, yes... I mean, no, of course not." He fidgeted with his pen. "I could pay you two nobles... each?" he stammered. Sarah glanced at Molly, who countered, "Two nobles now and two when we reach our destination, you mean?" The caravan master had regained some of his composure now that he was talking about money. "One now, two at the end. I have to make a profit somehow." Molly tapped her chin for a moment, then nodded. "Done." She waved to Syphar, who wandered in their direction. "We've got a friend traveling with us, but he'll be no trouble." The caravan master closed his ledger. "Well, he's your responsibility. I take no blame for anything that might happen to him."
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