Telaeri's Report on Reilahren

Sitting down with Herring, Theril, Rondus, and Fraegan in the cabin of the longship, Telaeri spends the better part of the day explaining what she knows about the culture, rituals, and leaders of the Reilahren tribe, as well as its trade network representatives. She's learned a lot in the month she spent there, and tries to give Fraegan the benefit of as much knowledge as she can convey in -- and that he can retain from -- a single morning and afternoon. She's much better at communicating visually than verbally -- part of the reason her answers to Theril's Assurance are not among the best -- and conveys the characters of the people she's describing more completely by emulating their body language and facial expressions (often coupled with those typical of tribe members who approach them) than she ever could with words alone. As she explains the tribal culture, it becomes increasingly clear as well that, largely by happenstance, she was the perfect choice for first ambassador to the tribe, since Reilahren's is a deeply visual and tactile culture; Telaeri spends twenty minutes, mostly with one or both of Fraegan's hands in hers, just helping him understand the hugely significant, sometimes non-intuitive meanings of different kinds of pressure and motion in a handshake. She teaches him to recognize the tribe's many ritual dances, some religious, some ceremonial, some apparetly means of self-expression, communication, community building, and even decision making, not by description but by demonstrating them, sometimes with Fraegan himself, teaching him the simple steps of the dances in which he'll most likely be asked to participate.

Fraegan's a quick learner, and he drinks in Telaeri's knowledge with intense concentration, but something more is happening: He didn't want the Grat'han assignment originally -- he was hoping to work in a civilized country -- and accepted it in the end only because Matrix insisted he was the right man for the job, and that it was his best chance to advance in the foreign ministry and eventually be appointed to more important (and civilized) posts. He intended to do the best job he could, and was glad of the opportunity, but his enthusiasm was not for the job itself -- just for using it to help his career and his country. By noon, as he learns from Telaeri, Theril can see that his whole perspective on the assignment has changed. Matrix explained that the trade network and even the Reilahren tribe itself represented a real power in the region, and in some sense a real and civilized country, so of course he knew that already, but if Theril is reading him correctly, something in learning the details of Reilahren's culture and society, or something in the way Telaeri is teaching him, has made him feel it viscerally. Theril herself communicates much better verbally than otherwise, but she hears it in his word choice, among other things: The ambassador to Reilahren in abstract changes for him from "you" to "me," and there's even a shift in the questions he asks and the way he uses "we" that implies he's no longer just thinking, "What does Matrix expect of me here?" so much as, "How can I best use this to strengthen Black Steel in the region?"

It may be a tough assignment. Especially as she goes into details of specific meetings she saw or in which she participated, Telaeri keeps building context for her explanation about the trade network, demonstrating and explaining the things she saw so that Fraegan -- and Herring and Theril as they watch -- can follow the line of evidence for themselves, to see if they reach the same conclusions that she does before she says anything to bias them as to what those conclusions might be. And as dusk begins to gather, and Telaeri closes her eyes and breathes deep, and finally says, "I hope that's enough of the background," Theril can see at least a part of the picture already.

"They're a serpent cult," Theril offers. "Their metaphors, especially the ritual ones, suggest it, but those things you showed us in their dances..."

Telaeri nods, glancing at her. "Absolutely. Not on the surface, but it's deep. Once you see it, you can see how it goes all the way to the heart of their rituals. And you can see how it changed. A lot of those dances were different, and I can see how the old forms have been changed to serpent themes."

Herring raises a brow. "Llaesira explained a little about that sort of thing, but she said it's a very old religion in the jungles. Are you certain it's a recent change?"

Telaeri nods. "You can't see the the old ways at all from the children, and they're obvious when you watch the elderly. It must have changed within the last generation or two at the earliest."

Herring takes her word for it; if nothing else, Telaeri is Black Steel's foremost authority on the art of the dance. "Still, at least it isn't menacing. Snakes don't mean the same thing in Grat'ha as they do to us."

Remembering, Theril suggests, "Perhaps they're just returning to that old religion. Llaesira was telling us about the serpent fetishes in the trade network; even where the religion isn't actively practiced in Grat'ha, serpents are symbols of protection and good luck."

Telaeri slowly nods again. "Maybe in Llaesira's part of the jungle at least. She's out where it's really just a trade network, at least mostly, where maybe someone like her really /can/ have power -- the kind she uses, at least. This deep in though, it's a whole different world. I don't know how much Llaesira even knows about this; the network people here don't work the way she does, and the guy with the serpent teeth, the one she thinks is her equivilant, isn't anywhere near the top of their food chain. He wanted me to think he was, but he couldn't hide ... well, the excuses he made when I talked to him about things he wasn't expecting, just dances and rituals and things; the way he reacted to different situations; his body language; the way things changed when other serpent people were visiting; I don't know if I can describe it all ... but he definitely had superiors, and there were a thousand things he couldn't do or even talk about without getting a decision from them. He was ready for all kinds of questions about trade and power and military forces, but he didn't know what to do with my interest in the culture; I'm not sure he ever even understood it properly. If not for that -- say, if I was like Llaesira, always just talking to him about trading partners and things -- I might never have found out he was working for anybody but him."

Fraegan shakes his head slowly, meeting her gaze. "I don't get it. Why would they care if we know who's in charge?"

"I don't know," Telaeri answers. "It doesn't make sense to me, but it doesn't leave me inclined to really trust them. They seem to want outsiders to think of them as just a trade network, but at least in Reilahren village ... well, you noticed it, Theril. The Reilahren tribesmen are a serpent cult, but they never dress up as serpents; I'm pretty sure it would be sacrilege. And the network people aren't snake worshipers at all; they just /look/ like serpents -- /all/ of them do, at least a little; every one I saw, and every one I heard about. What's more, if you actually watch them interact, the more they look like snakes, the more real authority they have, in the network, and over Reilahren. The tribe doesn't just use serpent symbols and use snaky rituals and things; they practically worship the serpent people from the network, like demi-gods or something. Even the tribal chief is terrified of them -- not just worshipful; you'd have to see his eyes: It's /fear/, even when they aren't around, of doing something they don't want, and just of them." Telaeri spreads her hands. "There's more. I wish I had more time to give you all the details. I'm not sure if I'm explaining properly. As far as I can tell, they don't trust us, and they want to hide a lot of things about their organization and their power from us. And I have to say, because of that, I don't feel like we can trust them." She takes out the flask of nectar and sets it on the table. "Certain things, okay. Of course this will be what we asked for -- why wouldn't it be? -- and I never felt like I was in any danger myself," as her eyes go to Fraegan, "or like you would be. But they're way more interested in Kaiimar than they have any reason to be -- not by their words, but you can /see/ it -- and I don't think what they want there and what we want can work together. With Llaesira, okay, but with these guys ... even if they don't take part in our battle -- and I have a feeling we'd better not really ask them for that, or even give them the chance -- I think it's going to take some doing to convince them what they really want is just trade with the city."

Major Encounter, Leva 22

Having tracked the "Holy Grat'han Bandits" to the cave where they're hiding out, the Rat Pack (accompanied by Nimlo, Terryon, Charracks, the gargoyle, and a number of not-so-holy, non-bandit Grat'han friends) assembles the makings of a huge bonfire, together with long torches, stretched fur pelts, and countless other pieces of ritual paraphernalia, especially including some huge jungle drums. They dress in slightly modified versions of the wolf and wolfman costumes they brought back from Night Harbor to wear for last year's Feast of the Veil, and start up the fire, pounding on drums, dancing, screaming, shouting, howling, and generally carrying on in a hodgepodge amalgam of every Kerranas ritual about which they've managed to learn in the past few days. Smoke rises from the bonfire flames, the drumbeats and dancing rise to a crescendo, and from the midst of the smoke, a shadowy form emerges: A massive head and shoulders, with long, clawed, powerful arms covered in fur, its mighty torso disappearing in the grey billows below. Its head is like a ravenous wolf's, with huge rams' horns curling behind its ears and the antlers of a ten-point stag rising before them. The figure of Kerranas lifts its hands to the sky ... and begins to dance in time with the Rat Pack below. Only Nimlo is not participating now: He, of course, still swaying devoutly, has all his attention on the cords of sorcerous power he's weaving and reweaving, tugging at them like marionet strings, to maintain and direct the illusion.

The dance continues, still with no reaction from within the cave, and finally the image of Kerranas rises up, and with a grand gesture, points a single claw at the center point between the cave mouth and the low hill where the Rat Pack arranged their props. With a roar, dressed up in his wolfman costume, Jimmy charges down the hillside, leaps to the space indicated by the apparition, throws his head back, spreads his clawed hands from the elbows, and howls to the sky in challenge. Again the apparition points to the space where Jimmy now stands, but there is no response from within the cave. Frustrated, Charracks calls upon Vammakhel to fill the cave mouth with blinding light, revealing the Grat'han bandits standing within, then calls on her once more to bring terror upon one of those revealed; the Grat'han screams and cowers, apparently from the image of Kerranas, and flees into the darkness beyond the blazing light; the others mutter together and beat a hasty retreat deeper into the cave, back out of view. Rubbing his chin, Terryon works a spell, and as he moves his lips, a deep, growling voice seems to come from the sky: "Accept the challenge, or be held forfeit by the power of Kerranas! Send forth thy greatest warrior to prove the right of thy cause, unless thou wouldst abandon thy faith!"

There is no response from within the cave. The drumbeats grow lower and more menacing, and Brette says to Terryon, just conversationally, "Hard to imagine them mustering much religious fervor after that, though."

Terryon shrugs, looking every bit as disappointed as Brette and the rest of the Rat Pack. It's Charracks, voice dripping with sarcasm, who says, "How unfortunate that the plan failed," and goes on in his darkest tones -- the ones in which he shows pleasure -- "We'll have to kill them then."

As the drums continue, Jimmy stalks back to the hilltop, and joins Charracks in leading Miw and the gargoyle down the back of the hill and behind the cover of a nearby ridge (where they pick up a group of ogres already posted there by Charracks) to come to the hidden back entrance of the cave, known to Jimmy and the Rat Pack since their survey of the region a few months back. When a quick investigation reveals that the passage appears unguarded -- perhaps all the bandits went out front to see the show -- Charracks calls upon Vammakhel once more, to bring silence down upon the cavern entrance. Normally, this miracle is wrought to prevent the screams of Vammakhel's victims from reaching the wrong ears, but the purpose that Charracks intends in this case is also quite appropriate. He returns to the hill the same way he came, to find the bandits are still quiet within. He dispatches horses and wagons to bring more wood and bales of straw from town, and Nimlo begins to unravel a handful of spellweaves, and creating other weaves from their strands. There is a period of tension on the hilltop, but no faces emerge in the cave, and eventually Miw returns to report, "We close it. They still put on rocks, but Jimmy say me go back."

Charracks permits himself a grin, and directs Miw to burning logs from the fire, more logs left by for fuel, and bales of straw left by for exactly this purpose: One by one, the giant takes them up, and flings them into the mouth of the cave. Those not ignited by the flaming logs themselves soon catch fire anyway as fire arrows fly and lodge themselves in the straw. Charracks stares in as Nimlo weaves and the Rat Pack grimly drums and looks on ... and just as the fire inside the cave is beginning to really blaze and smoke, a cheer can be heard from within, and a torrent of water pours down from the ceiling, rising in hissing billows of steam, extinguishing the flames. As darkness falls within once more, with water still dripping from the ceiling into the standing pool below, Miw hesitates, a log still poised in his hand. Looking uncertainly at Brette, he asks, "Uh. Should I throw this?"

Charracks scowls. Mac tells no one in particular, "I liked our plan better," still drumming, going strong.

Still weaving his new spellforms, Nimlo cracks a smile.

Major Encounter, Leva 17

Of the Rat Pack's luck, Jarvis once said, "It's hard to say if it's good or bad, but we certainly seem to have a lot of it." On the morning on which they started their investigation of the Grat'han strangers in Alluarten, following their usual survey/exploration procedure, (with the humans on foot, while the half-lizard Grim rides on the shoulders of Miw, the Giant, "to see farther than he") and looking for homesteaders they might ask about the raiders' methods and whereabouts, they came to the crest of a rise and spotted a whole moving train of Grat'hans -- at least a hundred, leading more than twenty horses -- dressed and painted in just the way that the girls described (and that the Rat Pack confirmed itself). The Grat'hans didn't give them an opportunity to parley, but immediately charged, screaming battle cries that Brette would later translate as "Kill the despoilers! Kill the self-poisoners!" (Jaque would also translate it, but as, "Look at the shiny metal-type things on those people! Let's all get rich with the stealing of it from them!") It should have been a massacre, with the Rat Pack too hampered by their armor for effective flight, and outnumbered ten-to-one by powerful Grat'han natives, but the raiders were over-eager, and the horsemen charged without waiting for the rest of their forces. Even the horsemen outnumbered the Rat Pack by more than two to one, but they didn't have the skill to use missile weapons effectively from horseback, and the Rat Pack, recognizing them as the most immediate threat, started shooting their horses out from under them with crossbow bolts in an orderly, fighting retreat. While Miw stooped to pick up a boulder (one of several he would throw to disrupt and/or kill horses and horsemen, or to delay and confuse the advancing wave of deadly enemies on foot), Grim (with no effective long-range weapons) took the opportunity of bounding and rolling to the ground, and sprinting off to find and call in reinforcements. (This was at Brette's suggestion, though of course no words were needed to convey it) By the time the enemy closed, those still on horseback no longer outnumbered the Rat Pack at all (though most of the others were intact behind them, having leapt clear of their horses as they fell), and the combat developed into the Rat Pack's favorite variety of chaotic and violent free-for-all.

The horsemen charged in with their spears, and their targets side-stepped, dodged, leapt, ducked, and danced around them, taking a few glancing blows en route to their main objective ... of tackling the horsemen themselves. Jaque gets bragging rights for getting astride a horse and throwing the rider to earth on the first pass, while Jarvis only managed to get a grip on his horseman and pull himself up behind. The resulting struggle, with the horseman twisting around and trying to kill or dislodge Jarvis with the help of a crude knife, was amusing to watch, but with predictable results; the armor Jarvis was wearing slowed the whole thing down for both sides, but Jarvis eventually managed to send the Grat'han tumbling down. Jimmy, trying to tackle a rider who was in the process of lunging wildly at him, wound up rolling about on the ground in a tangle with the horseman, trying to avoid getting trampled underfoot. The rest of the Rat Pack had a good laugh over it (yes, in the middle of battle) ... and when Chap and Tarak suffered similar fates on the second pass, they insisted it was only to emulate their fearless leader. (It also happened to Mac, but the only thing he insisted upon was, "Heh heh. Fun fight. Roly-poly! Hahahahaha!") Meanwhile, Miw was tossing boulders to give the remainder of the Grat'hans something to think about and keep them as well as possible at bay, and in less than a minute, long before Grim got anywhere near the reinforcements he sought, even before the rest of the raiders came within range, the human Rat Pack members were all horsed (though in some cases with two riding together) and Miw was loping away with his gigantic strides, to get away and under cover while the rest of the Rat Pack drew and split the raiders' attention. In the end, between mock charges, suddenly slowing as if a horse had come up lame, and a dozen other Rat Pack tricks, they managed to lead the raiders well away from the site of the battle ... and then burst away at a gallop, leaving the Grat'hans to shout and swear.

The Rat Pack managed to round up the two remaining, riderless horses, and even captured four stragglers, formerly horsemen, who hadn't been able to catch up with the rest of the raiders. From there, they sought out Charracks to make their report and receive treatment for their many, but minor, wounds. On the way, one of the captives, in the way of gallows boasting, told them a little about the Grat'hans the Rat Pack had just bamboozled: They are attacking the people of Alluarten to prevent the civilization of the land and the domestication of its creatures, as these things would supposedly be an affront to Kerranas, the beast-loving Power these Grat'hans apparently worship. The raiders then live high on everything they steal from their victims while it lasts -- the real reason, Jaque and others insist, for their fervor. As a result, the Rat Pack has taken to calling them the Holy Grat'han Bandits, with appropriate emphasis and hand-waving, which was appreciated by the captives only in comparison to what was about to be done with them.

Charracks normally doesn't like to heal anyone's wounds, especially minor ones; as far as he's concerned, the Rat Pack would be better off suffering. He made an exception this time though, and called down the agonizing, wound-suturing, restorative miracles they requested, because they brought him four Grat'han bandits to ... interrogate. Charracks grinned as he healed each member of the Rat Pack, just thinking of how well -- through him -- they had served Maiden Pain, and of how he would make his four victims renounce the Power they served, and at once admit and demonstrate that the most important and most powerful force in their lives was the Power of pain to whom /he/ was sworn.