Getting lost is not a waste of time - Jack Johnson

Hank spent the next 20 minutes poking and prodding Gruffly and the perennially injured Marko. Neither were in wonderful shape, but neither were they in immediate danger, thankfully, as Hank was unsure if he could treat them. Reading through the books he had brought, there were a couple of treatments worth trying but Hank needed the right ingredients. Ones he didn’t have. Some he'd never used. Which wasn’t unexpected, he hadn’t anticipated becoming the expedition’s doctor.

There was no help for it. Hank found some dry ground, popped a squat and started pulling out books. First ‘Old Fashioned Cures’, then his heavily noted copy of ‘Plant life of the northern forest’ and after a bit of digging ‘Emergency Treatments’, one of the books rescued from the smuggler’s camp.

He also pulled out a notebook he had recently dedicated to his plant notes. What had started as a sheaf of scrappy bits of paper containing Hank’s observations and discussions with others had been joined by notes he had taken from books he had read and sold. Having spilled things across his paper collection turning it almost illegible he had reluctantly splurged on a proper notebook.

Hank knew he had been fortunate with his first medical experiment and could ill afford the same level of guesswork a second time. Fortunately ‘Old Fashioned Cures’ came to his rescue. Well, there was enough there that with some substitutions suggested by his notes and Nancy’s plant life book he should be able to get a second treatment. This one made from ingredients hopefully available in this part of the GNF.

There were six plants he needed to source. Well only one he absolutely had to harvest, three or four others anyone could gather with proper guidance. The last couple Hank believed focused on reducing side effects. Optional, he concluded. Hank thoroughly reviewed the descriptions and drawings of each ingredient before packing his notes and books away. At the last minute he changed his mind putting some notes into his saddlebags.

There was a flattened tent just near where he had been sitting. It was demolished. No chance to salvage nor set up again. Checking to see nobody was watching, Hank stashed his pack in its crumpled remains. Hank trusted some of the people staying behind. The ones he didn’t were confined to bed, with a grumpy Sabine enforcing a strict bedrest policy. Still his old man had always said, ‘what the eyes don’t see the heart can’t yearn for.’

He walked over to where the Ore Cane was standing with Sabine. As Hank described to Sabine what herbs, roots and bark he needed collected whilst glancing at the sizeable man. He had a forlorn look on his face that seemed at war with the nervous energy he exuded. Obviously impatient, his demeanour seemed to affect the three horses he held. They were as jumpy as he. Luckily it wasn’t too long before Jamie joined them and they were able to mount up. Hank sent out a group request.

Team Notice

Congratulations. Your have created a team of three members

Leader :

Hank Sternstrider

Scoring Level :

15

Members :

Hank (8), Jamie (15), Rudah (9)

Team Attributes :

None

Team Roles :

None

Team Bonuses :

None

Hank was surprised that there were no noted group bonuses. He wondered why that was the case. Groups Sabine created conferred a number of bonuses. He concluded that the knowledge aspects of the skill system continued to kick his backside. Heaven help you if you didn’t study in this world.

Jamie passed a comment Hank didn’t understand. Ruadh grunted and lead them off across the camp. He didn’t pause when they reached a tent he only bent to inspect the brush behind its dilapidated remains. The bushes were impassable but Ruadh seemed to have seen what he was looking for, turning away he lead them south-west. A few minutes later he looped back peering intently into the bushes and the ground as they rode north. Less than fifteen minutes after leaving the camp he found what he was looking for and the little group turned westward following signs the large barbarian alone seemed to see.

Over the next three hours they travelled onwards in what seemed to be gradual curve to the north east. Periodically Ruadh would bend over and examine some detail or another but they never really slowed down. After the 12th change in direction Hank realised that Ruadh was a much better tracker than he was. He didn’t miss a thing and his eyes were sharp enough to spot the minute detail required to stay on the trail.

The light was fading as the day gave way to night and just as Hank was starting to get sleepy he spotted some Novavita Sapiens. It had that distinctive sheen on the leaves easily spotted in dappled or fading light. He called a halt whilst he pulled out his knife to take some of the fresh shoots and some older leaves. He really should get a proper herb knife or sickle so that he didn’t contaminate them when he harvested them but he just hadn’t had the money for such excesses.

Fortunately It was surprisingly easy to harvest the plant from horseback. It was a parasitical vine that clung to certain tree species meaning that the best parts to harvest were high off the ground. Unfortunately Hank didn’t have any suitable trees to graft a proper cutting into so he didn’t take one. He couldn’t believe that on his first effort he was able to harvest such a rare plant.

As they rode away Hank continued dwelling on the vagaries of the game. Certain things were surprising. His ability to accomplish challenging things first try sprang to mind. Perhaps there was some strange first time bonus he had tapped into. Conversely, it was surprising that he couldn’t pull up any kind of window showing him his own abilities and skills.

A thought came. Perhaps a book the bandits possessed might help. It looked boring, but it had seen a lot of use, maybe he was wrong. ‘Know yourself’, self explanatory, a self-help book he had thought. Perhaps it was a different kind of self help. He returned to his original insight. The word, knowledge, rattling around in his head. Skills seemed to be tied to what you knew. Lack of knowledge didn’t prevent performance. It just limited effect and repeatability he reasoned. Stumbling into something but without knowing what you were doing you mightn’t end well a second time.

There was also that other old book that he had also brought north. He had only flicked through it over the last few weeks, but he had found that things that reminded him of his kaydeesh book ‘Pursing Magic’. Unfortunately the bandit's book was written in Fujika, possibly old Fujika. He needed a dictionary to understand it. How had the bandits ended up with a book in Fujika and K’’d’n Se?

Hank was pulled from his thoughts by the first bit of conversation.

“Dit lyk soos 1 volwassene en 10 of 11 kinders”. Ruadh was saying something.

“Hoe weet jy?”

“Die verskillende spore wat hulle verlaat. Voetafdrukke, vir die grootste deel.”

“Kan jy uitwerk wie?”

“Nie almal nie. Die volwassene moet Ninyette wees. Ek ken haar spoor. Die res is baie harder. Ek dink daar is 4 meisies en die ander seuns. Moeilik om te sê.”

“Ahh people, I don’t speak grunty northern barbarian. Or whatever you call that language.”

“Oh yeah right. Ruadh was just saying that he thinks he recognises Ninyette’s tracks, or is it spore?” Jamie’s attention wandered off into its own little world. “Literally spore but is spore for animals and track for humans. Hmm. I’ll have to talk to Linguist Peters to get that sorted out. Hmm I wonder if…” he mumbled.

“Earth to Jamie. Either or, I don’t care. What was he saying?” Hank interrupted Jamie’s linguistic monologue.

“That’s right you only speak one language and can’t even be bothered getting that right. It’s no wonder, really, that you people always end up in wars. You don’t know what you’re saying and yet still get offended by it.” Jamie smirked at Hank. Who just rolled his eyes. “But as I was saying, Ninyette is most likely with a group of about eleven children. Most of whom are boys.”

“Really, how old?”

“Hoe oud?”

“Jy weet ek het nog nooit die moed gehad om te vra nie. Ek het altyd aanvaar sy was oor my ouderdom. Maar sy was nie oorspronklik ons stam nie, so ek het nooit gevra nie.”

“She wasn’t from their tribe originally, so he doesn’t know.” Jamie translated

“Not her. Idiots. The children?”Hank sighed in exasperation.

“Nie haar nie. Dom. Die kinders?” Jamie translated

“Dit is baie moeiliker om te vertel. Van die grootte van die voetafdrukke en die depressie wat ek van sowat 5 tot 17 jaar sou sê. Noudat jy dit noem. Ninyette dra 'n las. Ek het gedink dit kan net verskaf word, maar miskien het sy baba Agnita geneem.”

“Harder to say. From the footprints five to seventeen and Ninyette may have rescued a baby as well. Named Agnita.” Jamie sounded impressed

“That’s quite an effort.” Hank agreed.

They travelled on in silence for about another half hour. It was almost dark and there was little chance of them following further when Ruadh jumped down examining the tracks closely.

“Lemand wat te perd het, het by hulle aangesluit. Ongelukkig lyk dit of 'n spinnekop of twee die perd volg. Ons moet haastig wees.” The Ore Cane growled

“Someone on horseback caught up with them. But seems to have brought a spider or two along. We have to hurry.” Jamie’s voice caught at the mention of spiders.

“And how do you propose we accomplish that in this light?” Hank asked acidly.

“Good point. I’ll ask.” Jamie turned to Ruadh. “Hoe volg ons in hierdie lig?”

“Ons sal fakkels moet gebruik. Ons sal stadiger wees. Maar ek het ook goeie gesig so hopelik nie te veel nie.” The Ore Cane nodded.

“We use torches and hopefully don’t slow down too much.”

It was about then that Hank realised that Jamie wasn’t doing word-for-word translations. It was more of a summarising paraphrase. He wasn’t sure whether that was positive or not. The obvious benefit being there was less room for accidental insults. However, you had to trust the translator to convey the correct intent. Hank’s mind wandered off on that tangent as they pushed on through the fading light of dusk.

Hank hated the prospect of learning a bunch of languages. He wasn’t good at them and they took time from more important studies such as drainage or foundations. Unfortunately, he now had three he needed to learn. That bastardised language Compidg should be quickest to learn. It was almost common. Whatever Ruadh’s people spoke. If a bunch of Ore Cane settled in his village, he ought to understand their speech. Lastly, if he was correct, that Fujikan book from the bandit camp might help him understand Old Kay’dence. That alone might make Fujika the most important language to learn. Additionally Fujika was one of the dominant languages of Indlu, obviously many important books would be Fujikan. Best long term benefit, Hank concluded, it wouldn’t solve his immediate communication crisis.

Once again his thoughts were interrupted by Ruadh. This time however there was a body. “Dis Hansie. Dit lyk of die spinnekoppe hom doodgemaak het.”

“Unfortunately, it looks like the spiders have killed Ruadh’s friend Hansie,” Jamie mistranslated.

“Yeah, I can see that. It also looks like the rest of the group took off with the horses.” Hank remarked

“Het die res ontsnap op perde?” Ruadh asked

“Nee, daar is net een perd. Dit lyk asof die klein kinders daaraan is en die res moet hardloop.” Jamie replied before switching to common. “That’s right I forgot there was only one horse.” He was obviously not acting as a translator but rather having two semi related conversations at once.

“And?” Hank grumped.

“Oh. He said that it looks like some of the kids are riding and the rest are running.” Jamie remarked over his shoulder

“Any idea of when this happened?” Hank tried to catchup with Jamie’s horse.

“Hoe lank gelede, waar hulle hier?” Jamie nodded as he translated.

Leaning over as if examining the trail he was following Ruadh eventually answered. “Uit die voorkoms van dinge. Gee of neem 'n uur wat ek sowat 6 uur oud sou sê.”

“Six hours ago, give or take an hour.” Jamie conveyed the response as his horse decided that single file was less effort and the conversation died.

With renewed vigour they headed off into the night.