The Book of Terrus: The Wise and Powerful

Chapter 23 - A Hostage

The surprisingly durable, breathy fabric of the bottle green pants, sleeveless white shirt and leather vest which Yidu had given her were definitely more suited to this climate. The bugs hiding in the waxy leaves on all sides of the road were only too happy to take advantage of Lhara's newly exposed arms though. At least, until Yidu came to the rescue yet again with a bottle of clear yellow oil which she told Lhara was made from pressed seeds. Lhara added everything Yidu said to her growing list of things to tell Magda when she returned to Trosk. Yidu for her part seemed delighted to be in a position to teach someone something and have them listen eagerly in return.

No longer melting and safe from the jungle's tiniest predators, Lhara decided to find Jath and share her new knowledge from Yidu. Picking him out from the winding column of southerners making their way along the bumpy path wasn't difficult. Lhara slipped from one side of the road to the other through the Factionist retinue, squeezing out in front of Jath. As always, his previously blank expression lifted in a smile at the sight of her.

"You look like a long-time arrival already," he said, taking note of her borrowed clothes and oily arms. "Are you more comfortable now?"

"Much. Aren't you roasting too? Yidu said that black is a terrible color to wear in these lands."

Still wearing the face-to-foot dark browns and blacks of clansfolk garb which he had arrived at Trosk in, Jath's white hair was clearly plastered to his forehead with sweat. He demurred though with a polite shake of his head.

"I found eastern Goran to be just as warm if not more, especially at high sun on the open plains. Nadathan and Sula assured us that keeping covered would protect against the fiercest of the sun's rays. And the cloth the clansfolk work is I daresay similarly thin and airy like that of the southerners."

"Well, if you change your mind, I'll bet I can ask Yidu to dig up some other spares for you."

A bird shrieked from a twisted branch stretching overhead above the road; an eyeful of a creature with bright red and blue feathers and beady, white-ringed eyes. Some of the Factionists looked up as they passed underneath the bird, one even whistling back at it. Jath and Lhara looked up curiously too.

"It's so colorful!" Lhara remarked. "Not at all like the ravens and eagles that live around Trosk."

"Yes...quite beautiful," said Jath.

"Lhara laughed when the strange bird squawked again, wiggling its long tail feathers before taking flight and disappearing above the canopy. "I don't know if I'd call it beautiful! More like silly. Kind of like how the poor moth in our Tale of Tales must have looked when it tried to paint itself for the butterfly."

Jath seemed surprised; he glanced at Lhara and nearly tripped on another one of the roots that kept jamming up the Factionists' carts. "You still remember the tale even now?"

"Of course! Since we're going to be walking for a while it looks like, do you want to continue our game?"

"I...I'm afraid I've forgotten how all of the lines went, which means that you've won, Lhara."

Lhara didn't want to win though; she wanted entertainment for yet another long walk. At this rate her boots were going to be in grave danger of wearing thin.

"I don't remember them all either," she fibbed. "which means it would be a draw anyways. So we might as well continue, and keep telling the story since it didn't get properly finished."

Something must have bit Jath in that moment, because he flinched suddenly and swatted at his neck with one of his gloved hands. How he could stand to be wearing gloves in this heat and humidity, clan-made or not, was beyond Lhara. When he took his hand away, a tiny smear of blood from some indelicate insect bloomed dramatically red against the white of Jath's skin.