mharreff

Staying awake long after sunout is the much easier thing playing with an eager Rassimel than it is when everyone who is not Zi Ri is wilting and sleepy in Surprise-heat. For the Rassimel himself it is the somewhat easier thing, but five times he pinches my ear when I am dozing off.

By midnight my ear is sore and I withdraw my request for him to keep me awake. I have two cley left in case something wakes me before dawn - no meditating for the second cley this time - and if something does, probably it is the emergency of note so I have use for those cley.

There is no emergency. I wake briefly a few minutes before dawn to bind one last spell before my new cley arrives. It is the light day for cley, so those two cley would have been fine to sleep with instead of finding one more spell to bind, and so waking up to spend them is not the happiest moment. But I am awake and hungry and alreaty hot, so I find something to help with the hunger and heat.

Running through Riskalt there is the Kasadrin River. It is not much of a river yet - its source is the spring a hundred miles outward, and one smaller tributary joins it twenty miles away from the palisade. There are hardly any fish in the river, but the water is cool and clear and smells of sweet spices so the Orren are liking it. The river flows through the tangled thorn-vines that bind the wall, so there are even less fish in the city, and not far from the trunkward wall there is the dam that makes the river fill the smallish lake, and this is stocked with not yet enough fish. Here, or in the tumbled rapids below the dam, there can be found many Orren, especially in hot Surprise.

At other times, some of the Orren are playful in ways that the Onaza Orren are not. When they are in water-form the Riskalt Orren, or some of them, do not care who sees them coupling. In hot Surprise, even in the water all they wish to do is rest, and that is why I come there also.

It is easier to doze there on the lake's grassy bank than in the sweltering house. From time to time I wake as Orren or some few others get in or out of the water near me.

One time, the droopy tired Orren nudges my shoulder and suggests that if one fish happens to swim closer, no one will miss it so long as many more do not follow. So I paddle out from shore somewhat, and a fish follows me back, and we find enough energy to tumble and swim so that nobody outside the lake sees our snack and makes a great fuss, and then she cuddles up beside me and dozes also. Rrai, in the water the warmth is not so bad, and the contact is pleasant.

She is right - there are good fish in the lake, enough for the snack here or there, but not enough fish to eat them often. But that is the concern for after sunout.

Before dawn it is the quite pleasant autumn night. I wake early as always, and with the very last of my cley I bind one more spell, and I wait for dawn.

On other night possibly I nap on the roof to wait for the sun, but I do not do that today of course.

Soon after dawn, everyone who pulls blankets over themselves against the autumn air is struggling out of them, and many are seeking lighter clothing and regretting dark or thick fur.

Only the Zi Ri is happy. "If you're going to drag me by the tail on this mission of yours just so I can be of no use," zie says, "at least I'll get to enjoy the weather."

Now I am very glad to know Cold Delight. Before we go, we freeze skins of water, so they are still cold later in the day when they have melted somewhat.

Now I am not very glad to have fine black fur. When we are under the cover of trees, I am the happier Sleeth. Still it is hot, but at least there the sun does not add to the heat so much like it does in the city. Indoors, the still air stifles; outside, the sun is too bright and hot.

Today in Riskalt most adventures are the quite small adventures that happen all in one day, or never leave the city. None wants to be out of the palisade on the first dawn of Oix.

My adventures are the very small adventures indeed, for they are the tedious adventures with the small wooden box. Grafting spells is shorter for me than for most, and this spell grafts better than most for me, but still Cure Accanax's Hideous Embrace is a quite complex spell. Ten hours and ten cley it takes, leaving six cley to bind a few more spells of healing and one more cley for anything I might need through the night.

While I am busy with the wooden box, the other adventurers make plans. Some of it is the plans of what to find if it is hot or cold Surprise, so that the finding is faster when that is known. Also there is the planning for farther away.

"Pah! We won't be known and sung through the ages for the things the heroes think beneath their time," says the Gormoror.

"It's still things that need doing," is the Orren's protest.

"There's no shortage of things that need doing," Chrysomerax tells him. "If they can afford to pay us this well for the things they don't have time for, they most be finding a lot of wealth somewhere doing other things that need doing."

"Perhaps the wild tales that made their way above aren't entirely fabrications," says the Zi Ri. Aside from Chrysomerax, zie is nearest me, sitting in the fire I am curled up beside with the boxed spell. "Once we're somewhat better established, we should be alert for a place that can be tamed. Even a field of salt bushes would be better than nothing."

"Salt bushes?" Tantamerakis scoffs, and his fist strikes the table. "Salt bushes are for farmers! Surely a band of mighty adventurers can do better than that!"

"No doubt," the Zi Ri replies, "but whatever we might be in time, we're not that, not yet. Besides, I didn't say that we should find the first valuable bit of land we can and settle for only that. It would just give us somewhere to start."

The Gormoror ponders this a moment, and then grins. "A defensible camp near a forest full of game - that will be enough to start!"

"A forest is harder than grasslands to explore," Chrysomerax says. "More likely we'll find something people have missed there. I'll see what the maps have so far, especially around this lake we'll be going to - though anything that way is probably claimed already."

"So we go beyond those claims!" exclaims the Gormoror. "Find land of our own that no prime feet have been set upon!"

"Assuming this pond isn't right by the Verticals," the Orren says quietly.

After the testing and the too long ceremonies I meet the other adventurers.

They are not the very many other adventurers. There is the Rassimel woman who is another healer, and there is the Herethroy with the three-handed sword. Rrai, if we face something with armor, probably the three-handed sword is better than claws or teeth or serpent rapiers.

Tantamerakis says there is more to be done to keep Riskalt fed. There is the pool upstream, a day's travel on foot, that is home to many fish, and that is good. But lately it is also home to a river-gunch, and that is not good. The gunch does not let Orren take fish; the gunch makes much noise and breaks boats and sends Orren racing downstream.

So the gunch must go, and soon.

Escaanahauvis is not the very pleased Zi Ri at this task. Zie is, after all, the fire-mage. Gunch do, after all, become very violent when confronted with fire. We do, after all, wish to avoid the gunch being very violent. So the Zi Ri does not use zir potent and practised spells against the gunch.

"Not everything we do will make the best use of all of us," an Orren says, and that is that.

There is much talk of plans and tactics. Gunch are very very strong and hit quite hard, so having two healers around is perhaps the useful thing - if one is hurt, the other still can cast. Also Corpador magic may be the useful thing in impeding the gunch without damaging its spines and sending it into rage.

And if the gunch is killed, not driven off, and all its spines are sound, perhaps there is the additional prize to be had.

But we do not go yet. First we learn if Surprise is hot or cold, so we are suitably prepared. Adventuring in Oix is not the most pleasant thought ever, but we make it less pleasant if we do not prepare enough, or if we prepare for hot Surprise and find ourselves buried in snow and ice.

So I was looking over Mharreff's char sheet, and I realized that successive edits and tweaks have actually warped it to the point that I don't think it qualifies as a valid starting char sheet anymore. Also, he hasn't played out quite according to the concept I initially had for him, and now that he's getting to the start of his adventures proper (the point in time for which the sheet was written), and since I'm apparently a masochist and like making char sheets, I decided to remedy this by remaking his sheet!

( The results... )

Early in the morning I do not meet the others of the adventuring party. I bind Heal the Awful Wound five times with the old day's cley, and while I am watching the sun light and enjoying being a Sleeth again, the Guild healer comes to the borrowed home, saying I must come to the Guild hall. She presumes so much I am tempted to not hear her, but the Guild is the important thing to me; I tell the others, and I go to the Guild hall.

There a Rassimel and a Cani and a Herethroy - only the Rassimel I see before, Charizande - say I do well with the wherriwheffle, and it is better to have the healer willing to work with them. So, they say, it is better if I take the Guild test for healers, that I do not have time to take in Onaza before Father is weak and needs help through the days.

So I take the Guild test. The pen scratches over paper for hours. The healers ask me seven times twelve times about this organ and that ailment in such species, always a different thing. My mind is good; I remember my lessons with only the moment of thinking, and I give answers and cast spells and show that the classes are not wasted.

Also they test me with Destroc magic and theory, and that is the more curious thing, but I am too busy answering questions to ask questions of my own.

They tell me after that it is not perfect, that I need more study of Cani and Gormoror and Herethroy; but also they tell me that it is enough, and with the ceremony of an hour and a third they name me a member of the Healer's Guild of Riskalt. I do not yawn and nap through the ceremony; I do not tell the Rassimel giving speeches to trim the fat from his words. But they are the very tempting thoughts.

An Orren fixes a Guild emblem onto my harness, and then a Rassimel says, "We may call on you if the friendly monsters need any more help. For that purpose, we have two boxed spells that I want you to graft. You should be able to cast them... barely."

I touch the wooden boxes, I study the sparks, I see Healoc and Destroc and Corpador of quite high complexity, higher than anything else I know - twenty-five, or so. But the spells are twisty and complicated and I do not learn more from staring at them. Still, they are the spells of healing, and I know two spells of Healoc Destroc Corpador 25, and both are the useful spells for nonprimes. So probably the markings on the boxes that name them Cure Accanax's Hideous Embrace and Cure Gnarn's Awful Game are correct.

"When I am not healing my companions or giving them bound spells," I say, "I graft these." Probably today we do not go adventuring, and most of my companions have many bound spells already, so perhaps today I start grafting the first. Also soon it is Oix, so perhaps there is not much adventuring done if the weather of Surprise is too strong.

Mostly the diseases of Accanax leave less time for the healer. I begin with that one.

The adventuring companions do not secure inn-rooms, but a small house. The explorers who live in Riskalt before make it for the family of Cani; when the Cani go to the finer home, more like the proper longhouse, this home stays empty. Partly the errand I do secures it. Partly the Zi Ri who knows some spellweaving and has the mighty ancestor secures it, though zie does not have the tools for the proper spellweaving laboratory. Mostly the Gormoror secures it, for one of the Cani is a tree-mage and the house since belongs to the new Tree-mages' Guild. He presents himself, he pays amber for dues, he helps expand the cobbithy stockade, perhaps he does other things that I do not know, and when he explains his need, the house is offered for his use at the quite reasonable rate of rent.

It is the Gormoror, the tree-mage, whom I seek next, for he is skilled in Herbador and might know the spell Know the New Herb. He does, and I show him the two unfamiliar herbs the wherriwheffle give me. The long, thin, dark green leaf with the toothed edges and the hairy underside, he says, is the good thing for clearing lungs and stuffed heads. The five-lobed red-tinted leaf can be made into the sour-tasting tisane which eases convulsions, but also gives weakness to the one who drinks it - it has the aspect of Ruloc, and the stillness it places on the body has the tiny touch of magic, but that stiffness must also be overcome simply to move.

Still, they are the somewhat useful herbs. When we adventure I am sure to watch for them.

Tonight we do not adventure. Tonight we sleep.

I wake before dawn in the tangle of limbs. There are not so many buildings in the village, or so many rooms, that all have their own; but nestled with five wherriwheffle is not the worst way to wake up ever. One of them is the chief - his name translates to Dew-Gleaming Thorn Tree. The others I do not know.

The body is fluid and flexible and I remove myself from the tangle without a great trouble, and I bind healing spells with the old day's cley. The spells are not the most simple spells ever - they are beyond the innate magic of wherriwheffle even if they bind that magic, which they do not - but they are perhaps the most common spell for the healer to bind: Heal the Awful Wound, for the protectors of the village - the other portion of my work here.

When dawn comes, the transformation-spell does not even have time to fade before it is renewed. The village wakes; some of the herd animals are gathered to be brought to Riskalt, and four protectors, all with the new bound spells, escort the two herders with the beasts. The wherriwheffle do keep their agreement promptly.

They are steadier than other wherriwheffle. This is perhaps not the bad thing at all.

Through the day I do the healer's work. I go to the sick. I use medicines - some I bring, some they gather. Two of the plants they offer as medicine are not so familiar to me, so I put samples in my harness pouches to look at later. There are no problems that the more familiar things do not suffice to reduce somewhat at least, so it is not the very conspicuous thing that I do not use the new medicines.

It is the simple day, but the fairly productive one. The herds return to their corrals; night comes. Again I sleep in the tangle of wherriwheffle, again I bound spells before dawn. Again in the morning some animals are sent to Riskalt, not so many this time. The second day and the third day are much as the first, and not so eventful as when I arrive.

They do not entirely trust me, and they are glad to see me go when I do, but they do not trust me so little as when I first arrive.

Chrys is not so affectionate when I return to Riskalt as sometimes, but he grips my shoulder and smiles. "Back safe, I see - and successful; we're all a bit richer for it. I found a few more likely companions while you were gone; in the morning I'll get everybody introduced, and we can head out."

Going to the inn gets me even more looks than mostly, and it is not built for the long form of eight legs. But on the way I return the braided leather armband, so it does not apply its magic again in the morning.

The other wherriwheffle are not so energetic as the one who comes to the gates. They are wary. They hold bone spears and look about always, and they say nothing.

The one who guides me also says nothing. That is the quite suitable thing. Wherriwheffle are easier to be for a Sleeth than Rassimel, but still I have too many legs, and sometimes I think too much about how I walk and I misplace one.

We go into the forest for some hours. Often I hear small things moving in the brush or between the trees, but never larger things. Only things which make me wish I have time to hunt.

But I am here as the healer, not the hunter, and the agreement Chrysomerax signs ensures lodging for some time and the generous pouch of amber if I do this thing, so I do it well. I follow the wherriwheffle guide through the trees, and to the place where the trees have been cleared away to make the somewhat small village.

There are three dozen wherriwheffle, perhaps. I see bright eyes watching the new arrival with interest, especially on the younglings, but many of the adults are wary also. They know I am not one of them.

One of them, older but not old, is the one my guide leads me to. His stare is intent. I study him in turn - I see that he has more magic than most of his kind do; he studies pattern-magic, he does not only use the innate magic of wherriwheffle. He is no wizard, but he is perhaps the quite capable sorcerer in Herbador. The only other Nouns he has are the Nouns of his innate magic - Aquador, Corpador, Mentador - and with them he is not so skilled, but he is not bad with Creoc and Mutoc and Ruloc and Sustenoc.

"So, who are you, then?" he asks, in accented but understandable Ketherian.

"I am the healer from Riskalt," I tell him. "Mharreff. Sleeth. I study with the Guild, and I study other races than primes."

"Sleeth?" His head tilts to one side. "At least you're not trying to keep that hidden. Not here just to spy on us like the last one to come to us with that thing." He gestures to my forepaw, the one with the braided leather talisman.

"The healers of Riskalt think it is the more comforting thing if I wear your shape." I leave this judgement to them, though the experience of the new form is not unpleasant.

"Not too proud to leave your shape behind, hm?" He moves around me, looking me over, and then suddenly he darts forward, he seizes the back of my neck, and he hisses into my ear, "I wonder - are you not too proud to give us a different gesture of good faith?"

This morning there is great excitement on the skyboat. It is near Riskalt Town, where the surveyors first land, where the center is of Riskalt Mene when there is a Riskalt Mene. For now there is the great span of untouched forest from one side of the branch to the other, trunkward and outward, with small dips where clearings are.

One of those clearings is Riskalt - the bunch of tents, the fewer small wooden buildings, the cobbithy palisade woven with thorny vines. The sun is only one-third full, though noon is not so far off, when the skyboat lands just outside that palisade.

The Gormoror are among the first to leave the skyboat, talking loudly of the beasts that must wait in the forests for them to hunt. I long for the forests also, for soil under my pads and freshest meat under my teeth, but I wait with my companions, and we leave the skyboat in good time.

The red-carapaced Herethroy man with blue face-stripes directs newcomers this way and that, according to their profession. Chrysomerax introduces me as the healer and enchanter, and the Herethroy looks upon me with doubt.

"Healer?" he repeats. "Guild healer?"

I stop washing a forepaw to say that I have Guild training, also more training from the master healer who raises me, but instead he asks, "Have you taken the Guild test?"

He gives me the direct question; I give him the direct answer. "No."

He is dubious, but the gray-furred Rassimel beside him reaches up to tap his arm. "Skyline, what about -"

"I know, Charizande," he says to her with sharpness, then looks to me again. "Have you studied the healing of nonprimes? Wherriwheffle?"

"I study them, yes. Also taptep and cyarr and akkamagga." I only practise on cyarr, but Father has books of the healing of many nonprimes, and I study those I can. Mostly it is not so different, but the books are good for knowing what is different.

"Wherriwheffle will do." He gestures around the suddenly-growing camp. "There's not much farmland to be had here, and suddenly a lot more mouths to feed. The wherriwheffle have herds, but they haven't been willing to trade with us."

That is the quite surprising thing; wherriwheffle are not the very suspicious, reclusive nonprimes. Skyline explains: "Never thought I'd hear the like, but these ones have been living here for only the gods know how long. They're a tough lot, and not all of them like us being here." He folds his mid-arms. "But just yesterday one of them showed up at the gates. They want a prime healer to help tend to a few minor illnesses - is that about right, Chari?"

"Something of the sort, yes," the Rassimel agrees. "None of the really nasty diseases they get - just the usual ailments. It's the best chance we've had to negotiate with them, and the timing couldn't be better, but most of the healers who've come through so far today haven't studied them, or..." She suddenly is silent.

Chrysomerax notices the sudden silence, as I do, and he does not let it stay silent. "Or?"

"They don't want to bring a party of adventurers right to their village," the Herethroy says. "They want a Healer - and only a Healer - for three days, and they'll start bringing some of their livestock to trade as soon as one night of it is done."

Chrysomerax looks at me. I see concern there, but I also see he does not wish to tell me no. I think for a moment, and start washing my other forepaw. "And what do my companions do while their healer is tending to wherriwheffle?"

"It'll probably take us much of those three days just to get everyone settled here and figure out who's going where, to keep them from tripping over each other," Skyline says, antennae pressing flat somewhat. "The Guild's healers will take care of anything that happens while we're securing the perimeter, of course."

"The Guild charges Guild rates for healing," I remind him. "I do not ask amber from my friend, or from our companions."

Very eager he is to have the difficulty of the wherriwheffle solved; I smell urgency on him now. "If it comes up, the Company will make sure the amber is taken care of," he says in his fluster.

I look at him. Chrysomerax looks at him. We are not stupid; we know many do not think much of simple words said to a Sleeth. So we look, and look some more, until he fidgets. "Chari, some paper, please," he says with even more fluster.

Before the agreement is quite done, though, the Charizande Rassimel returns, holding the woven leather bracelet - she holds it with such care that I study it with the magic sense, and see much Mutoc and Corpador. "Some of them might not be entirely comfortable with a prime among them," she explains, "especially... er, one such as yourself. This will give you their shape until dawn, and again at next dawn. It only has five charges left," and much suspicion is in her voice and scent, "and without knowing how to recharge it, it'll be useless."

The very peculiar talisman is that; but if it makes the task easier, it is the quite sufficient thing. Also wherriwheffle have hands, so it is easier for healing that does not need cley. I accept it, though I do not wear it yet. Chrysomerax puts his name to the contract, then he and I are taken to the trunkward gate in the palisade.

The wherriwheffle who waits there looks much like any of his kind - maybe his fur is thicker than the books mention, but the books are from Ketheria. He is dark-eyed and always moving, full of energy, even as he waits. He looks at me with some surprise and more curiosity, but without worry, when he is told that I am the healer for his village; so intent is his gaze, I think that perhaps he studies my magerium also, and I permit this. He wants to know that I am truly the healer, perhaps, and I do not mind letting him see that.

"Oh, good," he says. "We can get going, then, and everyone will be happy that we have a proper healer! This season's been so uncomfortable." Bright, happy, very much the typical wherriwheffle; none of the suspicion or doubt that the Herethroy and the Rassimel mention. But perhaps that is why he waits at Riskalt.

He is more curious when Chrysomerax helps me don the enchanted armband. The enchantment is strange, but also it is powerful; and wherriwheffle have easier bodies to learn for a Sleeth than Rassimel do.

So I bid a Rassimel farewell, and leave with my guide. My ears and nose are not so keen now, but not so not-keen that I do not notice four others of his kind following once we reach the trees.

They are not prime, and they are not the steadiest of nonprimes, but they are not stupid. The forest is their home, but still it is the very wild forest.