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He approached the horse and allowed it to sniff his hand. He knew little about riding, but he always had a way with animals. He then mounts up, pulling Jiriss up in front of him.
"Just tell me where you think we should go," says Jiriss.
"I been doin' a lot o' thinkin', Jiriss. People is sick, some sort o' plague. Do ya think that the earl and his thugs is tryin' ta keep it quiet-like? Dang stupid thang ta do, if ye ask me. Panic or no, people needs ta know what ta avoid. Let's go ta Ravendale and start spreadin' the word, reeeall quiet-like. Ya know, tell a few, an' let the word spread. Mebee then people'll be able ta protect 'emselves. What do ya think? I never said I was much of a thinker meself."
"Okay, Ravendale it is. But as soon as we get there, I'm gonna find a nice warm bed, and go to sleep!" she says, taking the reins. They begin riding North.
After a brief pause, Burne says, "Jiriss... I just want ta thank ye fer comin' back fer me. I wouldna' blamed ye fer fergettin' 'bout me fer the trouble I got us in... now yer hangin' round a feller who's gonna be a wanted man before too long. Anyway... I really 'preciate ye gettin' me outa there."
"Hey, that's what friends are for. But we better be careful next time we run into any of the Earl's men."
He sighs. "What's wrong with the Earl anywho? 'E always seemed a decent enough sort. Why the secrecy?"
"I don't know. He never was a public figure. But I still feel there's something going on. Maybe he got sick himself. Did you see him while you were in the castle? I suppose we could try to find out more in Ravendale."
"I didn't see the Earl. Suppose e's got better things ta do then come ta pay 'is respects ta someone 'is men beat up."
The two riders see something on the road up ahead. The golden speckles of three or four torch lights can be seen in the distance. Jiriss slows the horse down to a walk.
"Whoever they are, they must be heading toward Ravendale, too. Do you think we should avoid them, or catch up to see who they are?" asks Jiriss.
He studies the lights for a moment, trying to see whether they are coming or going.
"Let's git a better look Jiriss. But let's be careful. Ef ye get a hint they may be the earl's brute squad, make fer the bushes or rocks, just get outa sight."
Burne plans on doing the same. He still ached from his last disagreement with those "worthies".
"Things ain't right no more in the valley. The Earl keepin' secrets, 'is me turnin' inta thugs, a plague no one knows ebout 'til et's too late. I don't know ebout you, but I intend ta do somethin' ebout it! A feller kin only see so much goin' wrong 'fore e's 'ad enough. End I, fer one, 'ave 'ad enough!"
"Me too," says Jiriss. They ride further up the dusty road, closer to whatever is up ahead. As they draw nearer, it becomes clear that there's two of the Earl's guards, on foot. They are walking beside four carts that are being let by some villagers.
"Let's get a better look, Burne. I want to know what's going on," states Jiriss. Burne agrees. As they draw nearer, they can see that two of the mule-drawn carts appear to have various forms of vegetable produce. The other two carts are caged, one carrying live boars, and the other with live chickens. Four farmers are leading the mules.
Jiriss and Burne get closer and "rheee rheee snort-rheee!" sounds as the animals get excited. The guards turn.
"Good evening," they say. These guards seem slightly more friendly.
"Greetings," says Jiriss. Burne nods. Jiriss continues, "looks like some nice market good you've got there."
"Cluck-cluck cluck".
"That's right, m'lady. We're onward to Ravendale for the morning market," states one of the four farmers, "as usual," he adds.
"I see," says Jiriss, side-glancing Burne almost too well. One of the mules is giving the chicken farmer a hard time. It shakes the cart, causing a defiant "cluck-cluck-cluck-cluck!" from the chickens.
"Good luck with your sale," says Jiriss. The two continue, passing the carts. They hear the chickens acting up again.
"Cluck-cluck-ker-choo-cluck". What was that? Did one of the chickens sneeze? That did sound strange.
Burne and Jiriss head to Ravendale quickly, and arrive there before day-break.
As they pull into the town, Burne notices how tired Jiriss is looking. "We can go to my house," she states. "You can do what you want, but I'm going to sleep!". She has a small house on the north part of town. After making a quick tea for Burne, she goes off to her room and immediately begins sleeping soundly.
Burne stays awake for some time. That chicken didn't sound right...
He knew he was not well-educated and had very humble origins. But one thing he knew very well was animals. Even for someone from a rural background, he was considered to have an exceptional way with animals in general. In a farming village like Timglae (he frowned at the memory) you couldn't go far without becoming quite familiar with chickens. A healthy chicken didn't make that sort of sound.
He shot bolt upright. The plague! The chickens, possibly the pigs, who knows what else, could be carrying it! He gets up and runs to Jiriss' room, hammering the door.
"Jiriss! Jiriss, wake up! The cart we passed by, the animals! I think they're carryin' the plague! Get up and get dressed, 'cause we gotta DO somethin' 'fore et's too late!"
"Mmmm?" groans Jiriss. She's really tired. She shakes her head. "Burne, I'm too tired - I was up for two days. You can use my scimitar. Take some of my money," she points to a small table with a pouch on it, "(sigh) and hire some help at the Green Man if you like." She seems to drift off for a moment. "Don't get arrested again, okay?"
Burne tries to answer but she's already asleep. He takes the pouch, and finds that it contains 100 gold pieces. Her scimitar, leaning against the wall, looks nice and shiny. He picks it up, and steps out of her bedroom.
He tries to get the feel of the scimitar. She certainly keeps it sharp. But it feels almost alien in his hands. The blade widens and curves, having a top-heavy feel. Burne thinks to himself, "I might want t' pick up a long sword, if trouble's brewin'."
Burne sighs to himself. "I don't 'ave no time ta dawdle. 'Specially 'cause I'm in no hurry ta get in another fight so quick! Let's try the peaceful approach."
He heads back out of town, hoping he can use reason instead of force. He checks the gold and the curved, elegant but awkward sword. Maybe a bribe would work...
Burne heads quickly out of town, and after a half-hour walk, happily finds the carts still plodding along in the early-morning dawn. The guards hail him.
"Hey, what happened to that pretty girl you was with? (heh heh)," comments one of the guards.
"'Fraid she needed ta get some rest. Et's been an 'ectic time fer her." He takes off his hat.
"I'm sorry ta be botherin' ye, but it struck me after we passed that one o' the chickens on the cart made an odd sound. Sorta like a sneeze? Thet ain't the sound o' no healthy bird. I'm worried ye may have a haul o' sick animals there, sirs."
As he speaks, he resolves not to get into another fight. The previous guards were bull-headed fools, but he was always willing to give a fellow the benefit of the doubt. Sanity HAD to prevail! It didn't seem right that a fellow trying to do the right thing found himself on the wrong side of the law. Even if things went very badly, and it came to a battle, he'd act differently. He refused to take the life of another person who was only doing their duty, misplaced as it may be.
"Hunh?" go the guards. They look at each other for a moment. "Oh, don't be silly. People in the valley have been eating chicken for decades. Now look, we have our orders to help get this produce to Timglae. We just want everything to go smoothly, the way it always has."
"Cluck-cluck, buh-cock! cluck-cluck."
The chicken farmer pipes up, looking insulted. "If you think my chickens are no good, then my suggestion is, don't buy any!" With that, he stomps past.
"Oink, rhee? rhee? oink!"
Burne begins to realize that these farmers are not from Timglae. If they were, firstly, he'd probably recognize them. Secondly, they don't have that slight, barely noticable Timglae accent.
"Okay, mister. Tell you what. We'll carefully inspect the chickens when we get into Ravendale, just for you. But we gotta get this produce through!" states one of the guards. With that, they continue down the road, heading toward Ravendale.
"Thet's all I wanted ta know. Sorry fer botherin' ye."
With that Burne heads back to Ravendale. He did some thinking as he walked, taking in the early morning sunrise, the looming, shadowy mountains, and a bit of the dust from the road.
Things were happening so quickly. He still wondered what that stuff was that scattered his memory. How could things have gotten so wrong? Fledgel. If he would only have kept his thieving hands to himself, maybe things would be different. Now the guards called him Fledgel's accomplice. They were very quick to try to arrest him and Jeriss, when they had done nothing wrong as far as he could tell... Could it be that there was something beneath the surface of all this?
He had a bad taste in his mouth. Something just wasn't right about this whole setup. Why would guards try to keep something as dangerous as a plague a secret? Why were they willing to arrest people to keep it secret? What were they hiding?
With the sun up, Burne neared the town of Ravendale. He could already hear the bustle of the market square; the smells of trade and prosperity were in the air. As he entered the town, this was enhanced by the smells of animal droppings and squishy, over-ripe vegetables. Mixed with the general perspiry smells of the people, prosperity didn't smell very good.
Burne turned up on Jiriss doorstep. Not intending to wake her, he enters without knocking. He finds her praying. Better not interrupt her now, or she'll have to begin all over again. Burne pours out some of the cold-ish tea from the kettle. A few numinous minutes pass.
"Whew! Well, that was refreshing," states Jiriss, standing and stretching in one fluid motion.
"Are ye all done sleepin'?" asks Burne. She couldn't have been down for much more than an hour.
"I slept, but I felt motivated to get up. So I used some of my spiritual energy to cure my fatigue. I feel fully rested! So, what were you saying about the animals? All I remember is lending you my sword."
Burne hands Jiriss her sword and money. She takes her scimitar and leaves Burne with half of the gold. "You'll need some money. We'll need to get you a sword at least."
Burne begins telling her about the animals. "Just me fears playin' up again. I noticed that one o' the birds in the cart we passed on the way 'ere made a funny noise, like a sneeze. That worried me, thinkin' it may 'ave been carryin' the plague. I trotted back an' told the fellers me fears. They tol' me they'd inspect 'em. I hopes they carried out their promise."
A notion came to Burne. "'Ey, maybe we cin do somethin' ebout et after all! An' this will be without no fightin' or troublemakin'! Ye know how fast gossip cin spread? In Timglae, somethin' could happen an' it'd be only an hour before everyone in town knew ebout it. It'd take longer here, but maybe if we started a rumor or two, ebout the plague and chickens bein' sick, the word would spread! Best thing, nothin' ta feel no guilt ebout, 'cause it's true, ye seen et wit' yer own eyes! What do ye think?"
"I dunno," says Jiriss, "it sounds like troublemakin' to me. I'd prefer to find some way to cure it. Maybe that's just the priestess in me speaking. That way we might have a chance to save Timglae too. It is you home town, after all." She pauses and thinks for a moment.
"If we could find the root cause, that would be good. From the pattern of sickness, I have a feeling that cause is in Timglae. We never did get a chance to talk to that Iris priest," she says. "If you wanna go spreading a rumour, I'll wait here, so I can bail you out of prison again," she adds, with a touch of sarcasm.
Burne scowls. "Ye shouldn't be makin' fun o' that. Et's still a sore point wit' me. I weren't sayin' we shouldn't look fer the cause... I were sayin' that it might help keep more people from gettin' sick in the first place! Ye know, keep it from spreadin' more than it already has. But, seein' as ye think it's such a STUPID idea, let's do it yer way. I'll go get me a sword and maybe a dagger... if it don't bother ye too much fer me ta do THAT."
Burne was hurt. He wasn't exceptionally blessed in the brains department, and he knew it. Still, he had his moments from time to time, and being shot down like that always grated on him. He was dimly aware that Jiriss probably didn't mean it to sound so harsh, but it made him think of all the times he'd been insulted for being a "rube" or "country bumpkin". He remembered that Jiriss was from a town significantly larger than Timglae, and that brought a different worldview, including what he regarded as a casual rudeness that shocked most country folk. Fuming, he headed for the market, looking for a weapon seller.
Burne made his way through the bustling market. It was amazing how many people could be compressed into one market. Burne scanned above the heads for a weaponsmith. Then he pressed on through the crowds.
He felt a tug at his moneypouch. Instinctively, he grabbed it and held on. Quickly looking around, he tried to spot the attempted thief. But the groping hand disappeared into the sea of people. Fortunately, nothing had been taken. That was close. Burne tucked his pouch safely inside his tunic.
He finally makes his way into a very nice weaponsmith's shoppe. It has a nice selection of long swords. The owner has antique swords in glass cases above the counters. This jogs Burne's memory, reminding him of the blacksmith in Timglae. He'd managed to find an ancient long sword in an abandoned dwarven mine. He'd put the sword behind glass, prominently on the back wall. It became a centre piece - a symbol of wonder and pride for the whole village.
The blacksmith had put it up for sale at 500 gold, happily knowing that no one in Timglae could really afford it. When the Earl saw it, he claimed that it was not safe to have such an expensive sword in an insecure place. So he had it taken to his castle, and put on display there. But the village kicked up such a fuss, that the Earl returned it to the blacksmith. Burne could faintly remember this, and the countless times he had longed for that sword. What was the meaning of that mystical, twisty language inscribed near the hilt? Was it older than the valley itself?
For now, an ordinary sword would have to do. The swords range from 8 gold to over 100. One long sword catches his eye at 12 gold. The smithy is too busy with other customers to help him presently, but this one has that well-crafted balance. Burne began to wonder if the weaponsmith had mispriced it.
{Note: This adventure was not completed.}
