.
I Cloaked as I approached the little valley I had discovered in the morning, because I had spotted a large number of campfires along the Great Trading Route in an area where they weren’t originally meant to be. Rufin’s plan had called for his brigade to travel nearly twenty more miles before encamping.
Which probably meant one of my expected scenarios had either taken place or was going to transpire in the morning. Either way, we would have been delayed and possibly forced to participate in the battle. We didn’t come here to play soldier and it had nothing to do with our mission, so Allia’s call had been correct.
I made a close pass over the encampment, confirming Alerian uniforms and banners and even a few familiar faces, then headed to my actual destination, the Berado base.
It became clear as soon as I entered that the battle, if indeed Rufin planned to fight one, had not yet happened. There were Tabadan militiamen tending watchfires at the mouth of the valley and others along the ridge separating it from the larger valley below, and lights in some of the tents, which probably indicated a late night at work for the command staff. I had no doubt they wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, in this situation, with what amounted to a reinforced platoon or undersized company to defend against a contingent totaling three companies.
Rufin would be either launching an attack here, or demanding they submit to inspection, using his bandit-hunting mission as grounds. The raiders that often flew out of the Tabad were, quite often, the same people as the militias that defended Tabadan tribes. I figured it was probable that the bandits were, as well. Tribal regions do have a tendency to see law as flexible, prosecuting crimes only when they are committed against their own tribe members and looking the other way when travelers or merchants are attacked.
I turned my attention elsewhere. I was here for neither the Alerian troops nor the Berado troops, after all. I would probably report on what I had seen when I got back to camp, but I came for something else.
My Senhion-sourced memories of Ilim Below had triggered when I came to this place the first time. Specifically, I had remembered an entrance which she had used on a regular basis in the past. This valley was a place she had visited many times.
I circled the area slowly, at low altitude, searching with growing frustration for one thing, anything, that I could recognize. Nothing would register. It was absolutely the right location for an entrance, but everything about the valley was wrong.
Where my recollection wanted to take me was much lower than the floor of this valley. And this valley was much, much wider than what it should be.
At last, I descended to the ground near where the stream ran out from the little lake. Once I landed, I could see a crude dam. This was a Rock Beaver pond, built by a highly industrious Rock Beaver, considering its size. Actually, more than one, since I could spot no less than three lodges.
Which differed from my memories. The lake that had been here in Senhion’s time was natural, not monster-made.
Senhion’s memories included the highly detailed positioning information thanks to the natural ability of fairies, and apparently Elders, and landing in this spot allowed me to fully orient myself versus those memories. I now understood that the lake that should have been here was around fifty paces below my feet. The valley floor had risen naturally over the millennia, and that’s why it seemed wider.
My spirits fell with that realization. The entrance in my memory was less than ten paces up the northern slope of the valley, and that meant it was now buried under forty paces of silt.
I carefully distilled in my mind a more exact position for it, then flew in that direction. As expected, I couldn’t quite get the exact spot, but I felt I was close enough to confirm that the entrance was indeed buried. There was no sign of a modern excavation that might have accidentally unearthed it, meaning it wasn’t the Berado entrance we were looking for.
I gave up on it and went flying back north, to patrol more of the area that the party was expecting me to patrol.
While I was criss-crossing the north face of the Giant’s Fortress, which essentially equalled the south face of the valley we were encamped in, gradually climbing in altitude as I explored various nooks or crannies for potential monster lairs or bandit hangouts, my holy sword spoke up.
My Lady, I have been conversing with Lucy for some time, and I think I understand the problem now.
I gave him my top guess. “She thought fairies and monsters can speak to spirits if they want?”
It seems, My Lady, that is not the case, he corrected. She actually understands the communication issue quite well.
“Then…”
She thought you would naturally understand that she was here to automatically relay your words to them if you addressed them. You had only to address passing spirits, and she would relay your words and their words to one another.
I think I may have just flown along, gaping at nothing, for at least ten seconds.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” I demanded. “What is so natural about that?”
My Lady, it’s difficult to explain how communication between spirits works in mortal words. Imagine trying to translate the gestures and vocalizations of a cat into Ostish. Then imagine trying to translate your Ostish words to the cat, using the cat’s means of communication. Their communication is just too different from mortal language to explain.
“So it took you this long to get something that simple out of her?”
That was the easy part. The hard part was getting her to grasp what we didn’t know.
“Can she hear you when you speak to me?” I wondered.
I have been automatically sending my words to both of you, so she isn’t confused when you are addressing me.
“Lucy, have you been listening?”
“Listen!” she said, appearing flying along next to me as she did so.
Since she was basically an oversized firefly giving away my position, I panicked momentarily, remembering about a World War II night-fighter pilot who couldn’t understand why he was getting shot at in pitch darkness until he realized he had left his landing lights on.
“Land on my shoulder so I can cloak you,” I told her.
She flittered in and landed, and I concentrated on including her in my stealth.
I told her, “I’m sorry for having not understood before. Are you going to be ready to translate for me as soon as I speak to any spirit I meet, or do I need to tell you first?”
“Tell,” she answered. “Lucy here, not here.”
I wondered if that meant she wouldn’t always be around, or if she meant she just wasn’t always mentally present. For the record, the words ‘here’ and ‘hear’ don’t sound the same in Ostish, so she wasn’t saying ‘hear, not hear.’
“Alright. How about I tap the bag like this to let you know?” I asked while tapping on the little bag inside my blouse.
It was exactly the same gesture I used with Durandal’s pommel, since he wasn’t always paying attention. It was a system we worked out very early in the game.
“Okay!”
I continued my zigzag up the slow, but now I was watching for passing spirits, especially the Wind spirits that Dilorè had suggested I concentrate upon, since it seemed they were the ‘information brokers’ of the spirit world.
Soon, I spotted one. It was a Wind spirit, drifting along at exactly zero airspeed, simply blowing along with the wind. That wasn’t unusual behavior for a Wind spirit. They tend to follow the wind for a while, then fly against it once they leave territory they are familiar with, to cross through their territory and then return. They also sometimes use underground mana streams for the return flight. Spirits like to stick to a territory they are familiar with, usually a region of a couple hundred square miles.
I dropped my Cloak, then flew up to it and matched its course.
Tapping Lucy’s pouch, I greeted, “Hello, spirit! May I ask you a question?”
After a short pause, which was likely Lucy establishing communications with it, the response came.
“Ask.”
I choked in surprise. The voice was not Lucy’s. It was also small, but vaguely masculine. And, it inexplicably had come from Lucy’s pouch.
I hadn’t expected the ‘translation’ to come complete with its own voice actor.
“Lucy, give them the picture of the woman I am seeking,” I directed.
“Okay!” Lucy answered.
“Spirit, I am looking for the woman Lucy is showing you. Have you seen her?”
After a moment, the other voice declared, “See!”
Immediately excited, I asked, “How long ago?”
“How long?” it replied, sounding confused.
Equally confused, I prompted, “Today, yesterday, last week?”
My Lady, these beings understand time differently, Durandal commented.
It was annoying, but I understood. Spirits were not even technically living creatures. It was difficult to share concepts with them. Lucy was probably communicating with me by means of a highly advanced spirit-trainer formula.
“How should I ask him?”
After a long pause, the holy sword answered, Let me negotiate for a bit.
I continued flying along, waiting anxiously.
Eventually, Durandal came back with, I cannot get a clear count of days, My Lady, but it was certainly several days ago. Probably the same time as Lord Moram’s spirits saw her.
“So this isn’t one of his spirits?”
He isn’t. It seems His Lordship’s spirits did ask him, which is why he already had an answer for you without having to consider the question.
Tapping Lucy’s pouch again, I asked, “Spirit, do you remember where you saw her?”
“West,” it declared.
“West of here?”
“Also, South.”
I guessed that meant it had seen her twice, while she was traveling.
“Was it first South, and then West?” I wondered, since that would be a direction of travel away from the Berado. Had she been trying to get to Aleria, perhaps?
“Maybe,” it answered.
It probably doesn’t remember clearly enough to say, Durandal noted. Your princess was merely one of thousands of mortals it has seen passing through its territory.
I nodded, then said, “Thank you,” to it, not sure how that would be translated to it.
“Bright,” it answered.
Confused, I asked, “Lucy, what does he mean?”
“Bright,” she replied.
I doubt she was being funny. It was probably a perfectly correct answer, to her mind.
“Old Man, can you translate?”
Durandal was quiet for a bit, then answered, He was saying she was very bright, which I believe means she had a strong aura in the eyes of spirits. This is probably why these spirits can remember her clearly.
It inspired me to ask, “Spirit, can you feel her aura now?”
“Feel!” it declared.
My excitement stirring up, I asked, “Can you lead me there?”
