The North: South of Ton Fjann
(experiment to create newish northern countryside and a muddy accent. not liking this much. try from other perspective after 'Lady's Incorruptible' [when IS Scadamain at Immovan's?])
"Oi, oi, oldan! Where y'off an?"
Saincred turned around, the back tie of the wagon-cover still wrapped around one palm, to see a wide-eyed youth in workclothes hurrying across the road.
"Cathen," he replied, a little disgruntled, flicking back his hair self-consciously. There was plenty of white nipping at the darker ends there now, but he was hardly grey.
"King's forces down'a Ermine Crossing now," warned the boy, puffing a little as he finally reached the wagon. "You don't want for ta be in'a the middla things if they's where a Queen's Hound goes for him." He spat in the dirt. "Better off staying back-o'-water with us a whiles."
"Can't bring my tavern with me," Saincred replied. "I'll give Ermine a wide berth, though. Thanks."
The young workhand made a face. "Better you make et really wide," he warned. "Sprucan was fulla King's men too, and not nothing Queen's Scadamain left ta live in ey but crows."
Saincred, who had been living in the area since before the last time a Queen's knight had put Sprucan to the sword, smiled faintly to thank the boy and finished tying down the new tuns in back of his wagon. Then he climbed up into the seat and set Meggy trotting off with a little flick of the reins, watching the road ahead over her irritably twitching brown ears.
The little town of Anleven, where traffic was thin and the beer was cheap, fell quickly away behind him as his small wagon grumbled down the road into the woods. After a bit of a pause for thought at the southern crossroads, Saincred turned Meggy's head towards the road towards the boggy foreshores of Lake Meer, more than willing to risk a few mudtraps and an extra day's travel in preference over a battlefield.
Last night's rain had left the woods like cold and dripping green caverns; the smell of pine which it had coaxed out of the living trees and fallen brown needle-carpet was an overpowering tang. It would probably rain again. The Lakelands were good at rain.
Saincred liked that. It meant that snow never covered the ground for long, and winter felt much less powerful.
Wishing he could broach one of the tuns in his wagon, he rode instead in silence, listening over the noise of the wagon to the pine-sighs and the pit-patpat of scattered old rain finally losing its grip on the branches around him. Meggy, as always, was equally taciturn, setting her hooves down on the soft road with the sleepy care of an aging mare.
This was only the second trip to Anleven he'd made without Bodir or Amadin for company. He didn't care much for the quiet, but then he didn't care much for talking to himself, either. He and himself were getting older, and so never had much to talk about except the past.
He wondered what Bodir and Amadin were talking about, right now. He doubted any army sergeant, however fearsome, would scare all the talk out of those two.
He wished they'd been content to stay and haul kegs instead.
As the day wore on he reached the fringes of the wood, down where it thinned out to meet Lake Meer, and
"Oi, oi, oldan! Where y'off an?"
Saincred turned around, the back tie of the wagon-cover still wrapped around one palm, to see a wide-eyed youth in workclothes hurrying across the road.
"Cathen," he replied, a little disgruntled, flicking back his hair self-consciously. There was plenty of white nipping at the darker ends there now, but he was hardly grey.
"King's forces down'a Ermine Crossing now," warned the boy, puffing a little as he finally reached the wagon. "You don't want for ta be in'a the middla things if they's where a Queen's Hound goes for him." He spat in the dirt. "Better off staying back-o'-water with us a whiles."
"Can't bring my tavern with me," Saincred replied. "I'll give Ermine a wide berth, though. Thanks."
The young workhand made a face. "Better you make et really wide," he warned. "Sprucan was fulla King's men too, and not nothing Queen's Scadamain left ta live in ey but crows."
Saincred, who had been living in the area since before the last time a Queen's knight had put Sprucan to the sword, smiled faintly to thank the boy and finished tying down the new tuns in back of his wagon. Then he climbed up into the seat and set Meggy trotting off with a little flick of the reins, watching the road ahead over her irritably twitching brown ears.
The little town of Anleven, where traffic was thin and the beer was cheap, fell quickly away behind him as his small wagon grumbled down the road into the woods. After a bit of a pause for thought at the southern crossroads, Saincred turned Meggy's head towards the road towards the boggy foreshores of Lake Meer, more than willing to risk a few mudtraps and an extra day's travel in preference over a battlefield.
Last night's rain had left the woods like cold and dripping green caverns; the smell of pine which it had coaxed out of the living trees and fallen brown needle-carpet was an overpowering tang. It would probably rain again. The Lakelands were good at rain.
Saincred liked that. It meant that snow never covered the ground for long, and winter felt much less powerful.
Wishing he could broach one of the tuns in his wagon, he rode instead in silence, listening over the noise of the wagon to the pine-sighs and the pit-patpat of scattered old rain finally losing its grip on the branches around him. Meggy, as always, was equally taciturn, setting her hooves down on the soft road with the sleepy care of an aging mare.
This was only the second trip to Anleven he'd made without Bodir or Amadin for company. He didn't care much for the quiet, but then he didn't care much for talking to himself, either. He and himself were getting older, and so never had much to talk about except the past.
He wondered what Bodir and Amadin were talking about, right now. He doubted any army sergeant, however fearsome, would scare all the talk out of those two.
He wished they'd been content to stay and haul kegs instead.
As the day wore on he reached the fringes of the wood, down where it thinned out to meet Lake Meer, and