Knit One...

Mary responded, "Yes, but they have gotten worse every year. When I was a little girl in Nightengale, my grandfather once told me that his father twice joined a company travelling the western road to sell iron goods to the farms on the other side of the Great Lake. It was dangerous and exciting then, but the farms still existed in those days - they have long since been abandoned. They had not been occupied even in my grandfather's time, and of course, nobody would go on that road now. The robber bands rule that land, and the road has decayed to the point of being little more than a brush-choked trail in many places."

"Now to the south", Mary continued, "When I was younger, you could travel that road with a company of five or six, all armed, and feel pretty safe. And there were inns and wells every ten leagues."

"No, I don't think so," corrected Benjamin. "Sounds more like the Norburough road."

"Benjamin, I know what I am talking about. I rode with my father and uncle William past Morton's Manor to Gateway South. I remember several of the inns. I remember at one we were served this sweet and juicy fruit called an orange, that grew about this big." Mary held her hands out about thirty centimeters (about a foot), to indicate the size of the fruit.

Benjamin smiled and resisted the urge to roll his eyes and sigh. Mary probably was on that journey, but she doubtless was exaggerating about the size of the fruit and the number of inns. Mary continued telling about her journeys on the southern road, while Checkers, absorbing the information, said nothing. She also loaded her bowl with second helping of stew and took one of the apples.

Mary continued, "The road to the south is now a lot more dangerous, almost to the point where it is as bad as the ones to the west. I miss the goods that we used to get, as well as the travellers that would sometimes pass this way. Now it seems that we are beset by robbers and enemies on all sides, and are alone in the world."

"That is a mindset that sounds very familiar," thought Checkers. Checkers wished to change the subject. "We have a drink that we use, prepared from a special bean. It is quite bitter but quite good. I have some of those beans in my pack. Would you like to experiment?"

"Why not? Is it difficult to make?" replied Mary.

"No. The best Glider brew uses special equipment, but if you can boil a small pot of water, and give me a little strip of cloth, I can make some passible brew."

Benjamin left the room to fetch the Glider's pouch, stripping it of the spear and the flints. He cleaned the table, and unpacked the pouch. He wanted to hear Checkers' explanations for some of the things, and those explanations would determine whether she lived until morning.

Checkers picked out the beans, and took about a quarter of the small bag. She placed them in a thin cheesecloth sack that Mary provided, and tied the end with a piece of yarn. She dipped the sack in the pot of hot water. Benjamin and Mary sat at the table. Mary was preparing her knitting, with balls of various colours placed in an orderly row, and two needles ready. Benjamin opened a flask of "Four Burough Firemash," a brew similar to whiskey, and served himself a cup. Checkers looked around for a piece of furniture that apparently did not exist, and then looked at Benjamin.

"Do you have a bench somewhere around here?"

"A bench?"

"Yes, something without a back. I do not mean to be disrespectful, but the chairs, while very nice, are very, uh, formal. They start to get uncomfortable after a while. I do not have the freedom to flex my wings. Typically after a good dinner a Glider will lay belly down on a bench, or on the ground, and face the fire, along with rest of his group. Someone stands up and leads by telling a story or singing a song. Typically you do not see chairs, except in formal settings, such as court or school."

Mary listened interestedly, while Benjamin gave her an answer, "Well, we do not quite do things that way, and do not have anything that would really fit. If you don't mind sitting for just a little while longer, while you can explain some of the artifacts in your pouch, then we can all sit by the fire a little later while each of us tells a tale."

Mary was concerned that Checkers would react coldly to having the contents of her pouch handled by Benjamin, but Checkers simply replied, "I cannot ask for anything more."

A heavy aroma of coffee started to waft from the pot. "I would say that we should not drink it, but just let it sit as potpourri," Mary said. Mary brought out an extra pair of knitting needles, and handing them to Checkers. "Have you ever knitted before?"

Checkers answered no. Mary showed Checkers the methods of knitting and purling. Checkers was a very quick learner, and very skilled. Within twenty minutes she was starting to knit a proper Peninsular ('penny') shawl with faster than Mary could. It was a little embarrassing for Mary. "Are you sure that you have never knitted?"

"This is the first time that I have seen this technique. We do not have this material in the Range, so we have never learned. Where did you get the material?"

"It is wool. In Norborough they raise animals called sheep, and their fleece is made into yarn like this."

"How clever! I have never seen a sheep. Are there different kinds, with skins of these colours?"

Benjamin could not help laughing at the thought of flocks of red, yellow, and green sheep. Checkers could really be naive. He was less convinced of his idea that she was a worldly spy from the dragon. More likely, the worst that she could be was a clumsy attempt by the harpies to spy on the Buroughs.

Benjamin explained, "No, Checkers, sheep are kind of white, if you ignore the dirt and crap that clings to them. They smell funny, too." Benjamin had a contempt for sheep and shepherds. Sheep were some of the dumbest animals that he knew, and the Norburoughmen were not much brighter, in his opinion. "Their wool has to cleaned and prepared, and then they are soaked in special juices called dyes. I do not quite know how it works, but they use different plants for different colours."

Checkers nodded her head, trying to comprehend this. She had never seen an animal whose fur could produce something quite like this. She continued knitting, while Benjamin went on.

"There are a couple of maps in your pouch. One looks like it contains map of the world. You were going to try to slay the dragon. Where did you expect to find him?"

Checkers looked at Benjamin. This was at the very least embarrassing. "I am not sure. I know that the dragon lies to the West, but I do not know how far."

Benjamin responded, "Ah. Then why did you cut across the grasslands? There is little water there, as you found out. Where were you headed?"

"I was trying to go towards evening, and hoped that there was another Glider settlement. Or something."

"I have never heard of any, except to the east." Unless they have established one on the sly. "Can you show me on the map where you were trying to go?"

Checkers put down her knitting. Things were starting to go wrong. The map was ruined in the center; Benjamin should know that. Where exactly she was trying to go was something that she did not know. But she could sense the suspicion from Benjamin.

She stared at the map, looking for inspiration, or at least something that would convince Benjamin that she was who she said that she was. Checkers decided to

1. tell the unvarnished truth. She told Benjamin that she could not see anything past Blueberry Patch, and she had no idea where she was going.
2. tell a white lie. She picked a spot in the Eveninglands, and declared, that was where the dragon was.

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