The Taleweaver

Braka, part two

It was a strangely subdued caravan continuing its snaking trail towards Braka. It was as if they could all feel Arthur's mood, and he spent the days practicing his skill with De Vhatic, catching up a few phrases in Khi on the way, but he didn't take up his earlier routine of telling tales during the evenings.

Any result from the meeting was kept from him, and he didn't bother to ask. Empires and strange laws was not what he wanted to get involved in, and as long as no one specifically told him he needed to he intended to keep as far away from it as possible.

He concentrated on mastering De Vhatic instead as he no longer had a Mindwalker at his side at all times. Working on the language was far easier now. Spending all the time with Gring must have made him used to the patterns of thought people used when talking, and he realized he was becoming close to fluent with the language in an impossibly short time.

Within a few weeks he was once more sitting around cook fires telling people about life on Earth, but now he spoke without the help of Gring, which would have been impossible anyway. She was occupied together with Neritan trying to bring back Escha to sanity. He was the only one who had lost anything that couldn't be replaced.

Trai, brave Trai. The dandy had become a hero, and now he wasn't among them to hear the praise. Arthur guessed he would have smiled and bowed with his arms outstretched in one of his outrageously flamboyant gestures had he been among them to listen.