#69 - They Keep Him From Killing Himself

The march back to White was much much slower than the breakneck pace they’d set out with, since they were moving at the recovering ambassador’s pace.

Teel’s wrists and arms and his legs and his back all hurt and he welcomed the switch from riding to walking, sliding down to lead his horse in place, rather than fighting the animal from its back.  None of the Innéan horses were used to the elephants yet and tended to start and then bolt at the slightest excuse.

Pelahir rode up beside him, between the elephants and the horses, slid down and walked beside Teel.  He didn’t need to lead his doe, who was indifferent to the ambassadors once introduced.  She followed along the cleared road at his shoulder and occasionally rubbed her eye shield against him, making him stagger.  He just chuckled and scratched underneath.

“How is your horse coming on then, M’sieu Raconteur?” His smile was obvious even behind his own goggles and the face mask drawn with wolverine fangs.

Teel pulled his own wool scarf down and rubbed a mittened hand over his dry lips, carefully.  “Well enough.  The whole lot of them seem like elephants make them crazy.”

“Indeed.”  Just behind them, and beyond Jagunjagun’s careful hobble so as not to overstretch the stitches on that side, they could hear Didara rumble singing in the white cold.  Up on the doe’s back Ologbon stirred where he’d been curled up against Pel’s back in one of the Cylak feather bags, modified so he could put his hands out if he chose.

“She sing him song theory of ‘Being Awake’,” he said.

“Still?” Teel said.  “Again?  Didn’t she sing him that yesterday?”

“Oh, no, that just beginning.  Theory that people are awake even when sleeping or hurt.  People BE.  Song-theory is five days long.”

“Five days,” Teel said faintly.  “So… Didara is equivalent to our scientists?”

“Yes/no, no/yes, maybe?”

Pel snorted laughter.  “That clears it right up!  From what Jagunjagun tells me it’s a bit like our shamans and your priests AND inventors.”

Jagunjagun, who listened, ear muffs flapping as he stepped gingerly on, in his fur mukluk boots and wool coat, nodded.  He was learning Innéan with astonishing speed. “Your Ahrimmmmmaz has a people’s ear,” he said.  “He can hear our language even below what our beloved iti-igi here can!”

“I refuse to be offended,” Ologbon said in the snottiest Innéan accent and that made both Pel and Teel wheeze with laughter, pressing face masks tight to keep from sucking in too cold air.

Ahrimaz lay on Didara’s back and neck and head, covered by another feather bag as she strode slowly before her brother, making sure the footing was good enough for him, though they had assured her that the Innéan high road was much much better than the muddy and fading little Rigan/Cylak track.

Pel nodded and pointed at Jagunjagun’s ears.  They had just swiveled forward in what clearly was shock.  “Ologbon what was just said?  Did you hear?”

“Um… your Ahrimaz just added two whole sound cycles to Didara’s theory.  She’s thinking about it.  He’s… odd, your Ahrimmmmmmaz.”

“He is that,” Pel said quietly.  The whistle came back down the line for everyone to mount up and they were within resting distance of the next village, La Jolie Cuervos.

The groans of complaint were pretty evenly distributed between mounts and men as they mounted once  more, but they knew that the military barracks at Cuervos would hold them all warm, even the ambassadors.  The Cylak had sent ahead with one of their messenger raptors and a hay barn had been hurriedly modified.

“Pelahir?”

“Yes, raconteur?” – “Teel, please.”  “Yes, Teel?”

“What does Limyé say about Ahrimaz and these… these elephants?”

“They are good for him.  They might keep him from killing himself.”

“Oh, that’s good then.” Ologbon sat up, looking between Pel and Teel, then rumbled something that had Jagunjagun flapping his ears and making the horses fidget.