softly and skeptically, for she wasn't even sure of what "Avelyn's vision" might truly be. She thought of the "mad friar" then, the drunken brawler she had met in a tavern not far from Pireth Tulme when she had been serving in the Coastpoint Guards.
This man who had defeated Bestesbulzibar in the bowels of Mount Aida at the cost of his own life. This man who had taught her the gemstone use.
What might Avelyn think of all of this? Would he, perhaps, be as weary of it all as was she? A wagon pulled up then, unexpectedly, and all three turned to regard the driver, a diminutive man.
"Come along," Roger said to his friend. "We've a long road ahead and I intend to make a good start this day."
Despite her glum mood and true despair, Jilseponie Wyndon Ursal could not deny her smile at the sight of Roger and Dainsey sitting in a wagon laden for the road.
The long road that would take her home.
Chapter 8 The Lesser of Two Evils
"They wear the colors of a Jacintha legion," the tall and lean Paroud informed Pagonel, his accent, like his name, telling the mystic that he was from the southweastern corner of Behren, the Cosinnida region.
Pagonel had been surprised, when Yatol Wadon's assistant had introduced him to the three Jacintha ambassadors, to find a Cosinnida man among them. Cosinnida was the province of Yatol Peridan, after all, who was causing dire troubles for Jacintha by pressing the war against Yatol De Hamman. It merely illustrated to the mystic how tumultuous the situation in Behren truly was at that time, with no real battle lines delineated.
The two men, along with the other two emissaries from Yatol Wadon, stood on a rocky bluff to the north of Dahdah Oasis, looking down at the sanctuary. They had marched out of Jacintha a few days before, bound for Dharyan-Dharielle to strengthen the alliance between the great cities.
Tipped off on the road by some merchants, the foursome had veered to the north and the higher ground.
Sure enough, a legion had entered Dahdah, nearly three hundred soldiers, and wearing the colors of one of the Jacintha garrisons.
"Perhaps they are merely tardy on their return, and have at last found their way home," remarked Pechter Dan Turk, the oldest of the ambassadors. He was a short man with thick gray hair hanging to his shoulders and a great gray moustache. His skin was ruddy and, like those of so many of the open desert people, his eyes seemed locked in a perpetual squint.
"They have wandered for months?" the third of the Jacintha contingent, a strong-jawed and heavily muscled man named Moripicus, asked doubtfully.
"Even the stupidest of soldiers understands that the sun rises in the east, yes? And since Jacintha lies on the eastern coast, finding their way home should not have presented much of a challenge, yes?"
"They are not returning to Jacintha," Pagonel observed, and the other three looked at him curiously.
"Not directly, at least," the mystic clarified. "They are loading their wagons with supplies - more than an entire army would need for the march from here to Jacintha, especially if that walk was to be along the open and easy road."
That was true enough, all of them realized as they looked more closely.
The group had come in to Dahdah to resupply for an extended march, it seemed, and likely a march into the barren desert.
"Bardoh?" Moripicus asked.
"That is what we must discern," said Pagonel.
Pechter Dan Turk laughed aloud. "If they are allied with Yatol Bardoh, then they will be less than welcoming to the emissaries of Yatol Mado Wadon!"
"And even less welcoming to a Jhesta Tu mystic, one might suppose," added Paroud.
Pagonel nodded but didn't respond. A moment later, he started walking toward the oasis.
"Where are you going?" Moripicus demanded.
"To get some answers," replied Pagonel. "You three can go in if you choose, but move to the road back in the east a bit, and enter openly along it. We have no affiliation, and no knowledge of each other. I will rejoin you to the west of the oasis this same night."
"What are we to do now, then?" Paroud asked, as soon as Pagonel moved out of sight.
"We might just move around the oasis from the north and await the mystic on the western road," Pechter Dan Turk offered.
"With our skins empty of water?" Moripicus asked.
"With our skins still on our bodies!" Pechter Dan Turk replied.
"Information is our ally here," Moripicus scolded him. "We go to