Orien Journal #2

6 Nones Heron, new moon waxing, fourth year, second lustre.

From the Almanac: Wind from the west when the sun rises, // squalls of hard rain or snow in the north.
This begins the chronicle of the Kingfisher, a curragh out of Alkone in Kemblis, Awan Haughson aboard.

Left the chronicle Alkone with Jassë; if he’s making me leave he can keep the records, or hire his own scribe. Busy with readying for sea all day yesterday, had no chance to make an entry. Ivren tried to punch a hole in the hull, but the leather’s strong, and the cords that hold it fast are thick with charms. Instead, I took his sword and knife as prizes, though I left him to Jassë’s justice. Intended to sail west to Lasfell, but the wind was strong — so I’m going east, round the headland to Thorabec. Jassë wasn’t happy, but he doesn’t plan to stop me, either. He wants me gone.

With the wind behind, made good progress — passed Thorabec shortly after high sun. Houses of gray stone, and blue roof tiles. They’d built a tower beside the shrine, and another by the harbor mouth, since last I came this way. Cleared the Osprey Rock with plenty of sea room. Saw Thorabec light at dusk, then lost it in worsening weather.

Chelt is somewhere to the south, but the fog and the hail has kept me from sighting land all day. Caught a glimpse of green at sunset, when the last sunlight passed through ocean — proof enough that the world is round, as the Crimsons teach — then nothing in the dark and the wet. the Turan Reef is around here somewhere, but I’m not sure quite where; I haven’t come this way in a long time, and I have no landmarks nor starmarks to guide me. Traveling north and east, I think, to avoid wreck.

4 Nones Heron, new moon waxing, fourth year, second lustre.
Storm – no time to almanac. Turan reef very close, heard waves crash there last night. bailing and bailing – no leaks, just waves. pushed south? Ambras Bay? waters unfamiliar, much fog, some snow.

Nones Heron, new moon waxing, fourth year, second lustre.
From the Almanac: Wind from the sun when the dawn appears– // sudden clarity and safe journeys.

Six days to Ambras. Made landfall here last night, too tired to work further or write. 2 trees to the harbormaster to moor Kingfisher. Slept till midmorning.

Market day tomorrow.

9 Ides Heron, Full Moon, fourth year, second lustre
From the Almanac: friendly advice and hardstruck bargains // dangerous meetings in narrow ways.

A man tried to kill me today.

He leapt out of a narrow doorway in Ambras, while I was coming back from the market. He had a knife. He tried to stab me. I think he wanted my purse, or my books. He got neither, but I put Ivren’s knife between two ribs. The man will live, apparently; he’s a known ruffian, this Corsos, but with powerful friends in the Crimsons, and the Black Cloak here, Shayet Ivramsson, tells me I should move on before he’s up and about again.

The Black Cloak might be judging me if Tassü hadn’t come to my aid. He’s one of the scribes I met at market today. I sold two books, wrote four letters, and copied out the kalenscant eight times. Two other scribes at market today. We talked round-hand and miniscule and majescule, runes and letters. The older of them, this Tassü, taught me the Owl in exchange for two sheets of washé from Askone. He took three sheets of the red, and made an owl himself while guiding my hands through the folds. He saved the third sheet for later, and I kept the owl I made. He’s beautiful. Brown feathers, great winking eyes, red talons the same color as the paper I made him from. He’s sleeping now, of course, but he’ll be awake later, and watch the boat at night when I can’t.

Tomorrow I’m folding the boat; I’m going inland to Dolphis. I don’t know if I have enough money to see the oracle, but I’ve never been so close, and I mean to try. I’m never going to get anywhere being a scribe, and I think I have a good question: Why did a man try to kill me today?

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