The refugees moved downhill through the snow-covered forest they’d found themselves in when they’d come through the tunnel the previous day, scouts out as before, though Mu Tse and Xian Pu, being more accustomed to moving through wild terrain, were now in front.
It was all Xian Pu could do to keep her eyes forward, scanning ahead, instead of turning to her left to glare back at Akane along the flank. It had been a cold night, and those not on watch had paired up for warmth — Soun, Genma and Nodoka; Akane’s friends; Ryoga and the green-haired farmgirl; Ukyo and Konatsu; Nabiki, Kasumi and Dr. Tofu. And Akane and Ranma. They had been on watch at the same time and so had cuddled up together for sleep, along with the seer that had warned them of what was coming. Xian Pu knew Great-grandmother had helped determine the watch list and couldn’t understand why the matriarch hadn’t seen to it that she and Ranma were paired up rather than “suggesting” that she sleep with Yuka and Sayuri.
Then Xian Pu’s ruminations stopped as her eyes sharpened at a hint of movement ahead — a wide-eyed teenaged girl wearing strange (but definitely warmer) clothes stared at the approaching group, then dropped the load of wood she’d been carrying and whirled to race downhill ahead of them.
Sir Morgan, the Kildar, stepped out of the front entrance of his keep, his men-at-arms spreading out on each side and Father Andre stepping up beside him to his left and Sergeant Osric to his right, as the strangers the Keldara messenger had reported walked up the hill toward him along with their escort of Keldara villagers, and his eyes narrowed. The newcomers had the appearance of the Sahudese merchants he’d seen occasionally at the port docks of Megalos during his service in that nation’s legions, but what a party from that bizarre country was doing in the back of beyond for Caithness, much less Megalos, he couldn’t imagine. (Sir Morgan had come to love the demesne he’d received along with his knighthood after investigating and revealing the assassination plot against King Conall as a sergeant of the city watch of Carrick Town, but he had no illusions that the mountain villages of the Keldara were anything but a backwater.)
The tall, salt-and-pepper-haired man examined the strangers as they closed the last bit of distance, and his eyes narrowed. But then, it was possible that these blanket-draped, blue-lipped, shivering people weren’t Sahudese, however they looked. He might actually have something to report to Myrddin. This was no band of merchants, no poor family simply on the move looking elsewhere for a better life — this was a group of refugees from some disaster, and wherever that disaster had been it was definitely warmer. It was also recent, as a legionnaire during the Frontier Wars he’d seen that look of stunned disbelief more times than he cared to remember on the faces of people fleeing the advancing Al-Wazifan armies.
The group came to a halt before Sir Morgan, and his eyes widened as a tiny, wriggled old woman bounced forward on a short staff and bowed to him while balancing, saying something in a language that he failed to recognize. Are they not from Earth after all? I haven’t heard that any halflings have ever lived there, but no humans ever lived on Loren’dil. Let’s hope these rings Myrddin gave me and the good father work out, he thought as he returned the old woman’s bow. “Welcome to Kildar Keep and the valley of the Keldara,” he said in the language the ring imparted.
The strangers stiffened and exchanged glances and some quick exchanges, then a teenage pageboy-haired, blue-lipped, shivering girl stepped forward beside the ancient ... halfling? gnome? ... and bowed. “Thank you for your welcome,” she said. “Please pardon the rudeness of our delay, we were not expecting to hear someone speak English.”
“Yes, well, I have special help with that,” Sir Morgan said with a smile as he turned and motioned toward the doorway. “But let’s continue this inside, where you can get warm.”
Father Andre stared across the table at Nabiki in stunned disbelief, the delight the stout brown-haired priest had been taking in her exotic beauty banished. Beside him, Sir Morgan whispered, “Almost six billion people dead?”
Nabiki murmured in the odd-sounding language the refugees spoke, and beside her the wizened matriarch that they’d been assured was fully human, however she looked, nodded. Yes,” Ku Lon responded through Nabiki. “They aren’t dead yet, but they soon will be.” From Nabiki’s other side the well-preserved middle-aged redheaded woman that had been introduced as Nodoka nodded agreement, face calm but eyes moist.
“Surely, the End Times have begun on Earth,” Father Andre asserted. “Charity demands that we save those we can!”
Sir Morgan frowned thoughtfully in thought for several minutes. I just knew Father Andre was going to say that — amazing how different most clergy in Caithness are from their Megalan brothers. But he isn't the one that will have to see to their needs. Finally, he nodded. “Of course we must, Father,” he said, and motioned over a page standing beside the door. “Peredur, find the seneschal, tell him that I want to know how many people we can support for the next ... three months, on the food we have stored, as soon as possible.”
The page nodded and vanished, and Sir Morgan turned to his sergeant. “Osric, I’ll be taking half the men with me. We will be leaving for the Cave of Worlds as soon as I discuss supplies with the seneschal.”
Yes, Kildar,” Sergeant Osric acknowledged with a nod, then rose from his seat and strode out.
Turning back to Father Andre, Sir Morgan asked, “Will you come with us, Father? You are the only one here besides me that can speak English.”
The priest hesitated, but finally nodded and rose. “Of course, Sir Morgan. I will prepare immediately.”
As Father Andre hurried from the room, Sir Morgan turned back to the newcomers. “I will need some of you to come with me, how many and who is up to you. I assume not everyone we encounter will be able to speak English. Why don’t you go choose who will come, and get a little rest while we get everything ready?”
Some more discussion in that odd language, then the portly, bald middle-aged man seated beside Nodoka said something in a sharp tone and Nabiki turned back to Sir Morgan. “Agreed, Sir Morgan ... and thank you. Can you supply warmer clothing for those that go with you? We weren’t exactly prepared for the weather when we arrived.”
“Of course, I’m sure we can find something,” Sir Morgan agreed, and the four “Japanese” followed the servant summoned to escort them back to the rest of their party, passing the seneschal hurrying in as they left.
“Ah, Geoffrey, you have the numbers I asked for already?” Sir Morgan asked, and the portly balding man nodded.
“Yes, Kildar, I do. May I ask why you need them?”
“We are going to be having some very unusual guests, Geoffrey. I’ll be leaving to collect them within the hour, as soon as you can collect some spare cloaks and blankets to take with us, and I write a message to be sent to the king.
“Now, about those numbers ...”
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(Posted Sun, 15 Nov 2009 21:56)
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