"My brother says to be wary," Arland said, dropping into place next to Wen as she sat by her fire.
Wen glanced at the boy. He radiated nervous energy, something at odds with his usual easygoing ways.
"He says that the guards are acting weird. How can he tell?" Arland continued, picking up a dry stem of grass and poking it into the fire. It caught fire, and he pulled it out, staring at the flame creeping up the blackening length. "Rockland just knows everything."
"I wouldn't say that," Wen said, feeling just a dash of amusement despite the disquiet his words generated.
Arland looked up at her as he tossed the grass stem into the fire. Wen felt a pang. Arland was traveling with his brother partly out of a need for experience but mostly out of hero worship. Rockland was, according to him, one of the most experienced caravaneers his family had, outpacing even the older members who had decades of experience.
Rockland was also an experienced alchemist. The two didn't match at all, according to Arland.
Wen had thought that it was just the usual blind hero worship of a younger sibling for an older one. Her own little brother thought that she was something special, despite her not even having held her own individual gallery showing yet. Pam, her roommate, her told her that her gains were immaterial; it was just the way younger brothers and sisters thought.
Wen had her own suspicion that there was something wrong with the kid's brains.
"Still, it's Rockland, so he's probably right. The elders say that he's the only one who they don't have to worry about." Arland beamed with pride. Then he frowned. "I sorta understand, though. It's like someone's always sneaking around."
Wen arched one eyebrow as she finally gave him her full attention. Part of her mourned the loss of the last of the daylight. Her current sketch looked to be turning out amazing. With her current output, she'd be able to afford another screen to dedicate to her auctions instead of having to switch between the game feed and the auctions when she was offline.
She was still surprised that people were willing to pay for digital sketches. Then again, the game gave the option to make your work unique. Just choosing it meant that no one, not even the creator, could sell another copy of the work—a reproduction, yes, but not a direct copy, and the reproduction would be numbered rather obviously.
"What do you mean by 'sneaking?'" Wen asked, leaning forward just a little, careful not to smear her sketch.
"Well, it's like they're poking around but then pretending that they're not poking around," Arland said hesitantly. "They're especially bad around Kylen. They keep trying to talk to those old dwarves, and everyone knows that old dwarves don't really talk to anyone outside their clan before they're used to being out of the mines." Arland pulled another strand of grass.
Wen watched as he burnt it like the last one. She had her own thoughts about the 'old dwarves,' but she did think that Rockland had valid suspicions. She'd seen the guards loitering around the other wagons recently, more than when she'd first joined.
The other wagoneers weren't bothered, but it did set Wen's nerves a bit on edge. The guards weren't interested in her wagon. She'd even heard a couple joking about her sanity in hauling around a pile of broken stones.
The idea that they knew what she was hauling was a bit disconcerting, even though the statue's pieces weren't covered with anything. She kept most of her supplies and items in her inventory and a couple of bags that she'd tucked under the wagon's seat.
She'd lucked into the bags, and a history of putting the same things in them over and over again had customized them for art supplies.
Wen briefly wondered if she should post that on the forums, but then she'd have to explain just how she'd gotten the bags. Wen wasn't sure that the quest was repeatable.
"Are you sure you should be wandering around if they're being sneaky?" Wen asked Arland.
Arland blinked grey eyes at her. He truly had gorgeous eyes, a shade between dark gray and silver with a dark line outlining the pupils, unlike Rockland's deceptively guileless blues. Then his eyes widened.
"I didn't think of that," Arland admitted. Then he shrugged. "But who'd be interested in me? I don't have anything to do with the caravan."
"Your brother runs it."
"But he's the one running it, not me," Arland immediately replied.
Wen eyed him. It was at times like this she was reminded that he was still young and fairly sheltered. She held back a sigh.
"They would use you as a hostage, Arland," she explained. She was rewarded by his start of surprise. "You're from a fairly wealthy family. Didn't they explain any of this to you?"
"I think so," Arland slowly said. Then he gave himself an all over shake. "It was just hypothetical." His smile returned. "I mean. I'm not anyone important, so why would anyone want to kidnap me? My dad has four other sons, all more talented and accomplished than me."
Wen felt an instant's empathy with one of her friends. She kept complaining that her cousin was an adrenaline junkie idiot who took stupid chances. He was also abnormally lucky and kept falling into instances that most people thought were pure fantasy, like getting paid to explore jungles and not to talk about things he'd seen. Her friend never explained that last, but knowing the both of them, she could imagine.
Now, she felt that she shouldn't have dismissed her friend's last bout of worry. Her friend's cousin had disappeared into the South Asian jungles looking for a lost temple, but she could vaguely remember him resurfacing. Wen wasn't too sure; she'd been gathering her share of a gallery showing at the time.
"Rockland would pay a ransom for you, I'm sure," Wen replied.
Arland flinched. Then he shook his head.
"Rockland wouldn't endanger the caravan just for me." Arland stood up and brushed off his pants. "I've got to get back. Still owe him a declension before bed."
Wen watched him go as she wondered just what a declension was. Then she tucked her sketchbook away and started organizing her paints.
Something told her that she was going to need them.