Hutch felt awkward leading the way down the road with Cascel beside him, followed by nine other warriors and their mounts.
Even as it was the middle of the afternoon, the people of the village had made themselves scarce, opting to stay quiet and out of sight. This left the roads empty and devoid of the usual noises of children playing. Now, it was filled with the clinking of armor, crunching of the earth beneath their feet, and the occasional snort of an eranth. At the end of the block, Hutch took them right, passed three more homes and then turned right again. To their left was an open pasture and at the end of the wider road was the barn at the back of the longhouse.
"You aren't as inept as you seem after all," Cascel offered an underhanded comment.
"Bit uncalled for," Hutch huffed under his breath.
"No longer afraid either. How refreshing," he replied, glancing at Hutch out of the corner of his eye. "You'd be surprised how much we can still hear, even with our helmets on."
"Cascel," Barhalis spoke up, bringing everyone to a halt. "Xig and I are going back for the carriage."
"We will wait for you at the barn," he replied, and when Barhalis and Xig mounted, the rest continued on their way.
"Should I be afraid?" Hutch finally asked, Cascel's comment having eaten its way into his brain.
"Perhaps, if you were to allow that banner to touch the ground, if you're prone to breaking the laws, or if you continue to not answer my question from earlier."
"That was a serious question?" Hutch remarked, trying to play it off as a misunderstanding.
"It was. Now tell me, where are you from?"
Hutch sighed and lowered his eyes to the road. "I don't know. I just know you're right. I'm not from here."
"You don't know? Or you don't want to say?"
"I can't remember," Hutch replied. It was a lie he'd told so many times, in his mind it had become the truth. "Ghan'dono found me unconscious on the side of the road just outside of the village, a bit more than a year ago. He's looked after me ever since."
"Is he the one who named you?"
"No," he said with a shake of his head, "it's just what they call me. And I prefer it."
"Then you lied."
"It's what everyone here calls me. It's the name I use. Why does it even matter?"
"Because I asked."
"Fine. It's Jules. Jules Hutchinson. Did that somehow alter the fabric of the universe for you?"
"So, you remember your name but not where you are from," Cascel concluded.
"I have a head injury. I remember a lot, including my name, just not where I come from or how to get back. Can't even remember if I left on my own, was taken, or if I was thrown away. Why do you even care?"
"I witnessed your hesitation. You're young. If you aren't from here, it could be excused, at my discretion."
"Oh," Hutch replied, the weight of his situation starting to sink in. "Wish I had more of an answer for you then."
Stopping a few feet from the barn, where others were busy getting the carriage and eranth situated, Cascel turned to Hutch and set his hand, heavy upon his shoulder.
"Executing you would be a waste. Be more careful in the future. Go, wait by the building for me, and continue being of good use. I don't like changing my mind."
Hutch understood the nature of Cascel's threat, despite the pleasant tone of voice in which he spoke. Moving to the back of the longhouse, Hutch clung to the banner knowing his life depended on it, and watched the activities unfold before him.
Every guard took care of their own mount, stowing their tack in the barn and setting their eranth lose in the pasture to graze and play. Wagon and carriage were parked and the teams were tended by the drivers. Luggage and gear, was moved about, camps were set up, and then drinks and food were served on the back patio where most of the kings' men had gathered. As they rested, Barhalis issued orders and assigned posts, using some code that meant nothing to anyone who overheard.
Hutch had lost sight of Cascel shortly after the luggage had started to be moved, and only reappeared once Barhalis had finished speaking. No longer wearing his armor, he was covered by his cloak, hood, and facemask, backpack slung over his shoulder, and was being followed by two of the other bannermen.
"Aseda will take care of that banner for you," Cascel remarked as one of the women stepped up to Hutch and held out her hands towards him.
Still fearing what might happen if the banner touched the ground, he set the fabric in her one hand and held the pole out towards her other.
Aseda quirked her brow at him, casting an odd glance at Cascel before snatching the pole, hoisting it up and walking away. The other bannerman followed behind her as Cascel did his best to stifle a chuckle.
After a moment, Cascel lowered his backpack to the ground and knelt beside it, pulling a paper from the front pocket.
"Take this," he said as he stood up and held the backpack out to Hutch.
As he took the backpack, Hutch was surprised to see a large golden amulet with a red crystal, hanging around Cascel's neck on a golden chain.
"Bannerman thing or decorative thing?" he questioned motioning towards it.
"Magic," Cascel replied, as he slipped it back beneath the collar of his shirt, and directed his attention to the paper he was holding. "Follow me. I need to inspect the orchard before it gets dark."
Putting on the backpack, Hutch followed behind Cascel who was following the crudely drawn map on the paper.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you inspecting our orchard?"
"You tell me," Cascel replied as he stopped at the end of the block and looked about.
"If I knew, I wouldn't have asked," he said as Cascel lowered his hood and pulled down his facemask.
He was older than Hutch had expected, looking to be in his mid to late forties, and he looked more human than Sajomei, even with the white streaks in his otherwise black hair. His skin had the heavy tan of a man who lived beneath the sun, and his eyes, which had appeared black, were revealed to be dark brown in the light. And a small scar, marred the edge of his upper lip just to the left of his nose. He was clean shaven, and the way his brow fell gave him a resting scowl.
"Ah! Much better," he announced, having taken in a deep breath. Checking the map once more, he turned right and continued down the road. "Perhaps you should try thinking about why anyone might need to inspect anything in any village."
"King's orders?" Hutch responded, not in the mood to give it any real thought.
Cascel momentarily paused. "Not wrong. Not right, but not entirely wrong. Care to try again?"
"Not really."
"Youth," Cascel huffed. "I'm doing this because these people are too ignorant to keep proper records of their crops. And if they won't do it, someone has too."
"But they do keep records. I've seen them."
"Of their yields, yes. But yields mean nothing without knowing the size of the initial crop. I need numbers. In the case of the orchard, I need the number of producing trees. New plantings. Trees that are going to be taken out. They keep track of a fraction of what is asked, as if their behavior will force a return to how things used to be; a grand resurrection of their useless traditions. I need to inspect the orchard to ensure it is still worth having. Sacrifices and prayers don't grow food or keep stores filled."
"So, you think you can just come in and tell them to completely change their way of life as if one inspection makes you some sort of an expert? You can't possibly know better than the people who live here."
Cascel halted and turned, locking his eyes onto Hutch's.
"Perhaps not," he stated, his tone growing cold, "But I certainly know more than you, and in the larger picture, that is all that matters. The numbers do not lie, Hutch, people do."
Salvador hadn't been wrong, even back then on that different world. For as arrogant as he was, he wasn't wrong. People lie all the time, for all sorts of reasons, not just to other people but to themselves as well. His mother was lying to herself, pretending that everything was as it had always been, because the truth was too difficult for her to comprehend. And now Hutch would have to start lying to, to make it easier for those around him. And even though he wanted to lie to himself, he was having difficulty ignoring the possibility that Salvador was somehow alive, and knew where he was. The donation, made in his name, through a foundation named for a goddess only he would know, was a message that read, 'I am here. Come, and find me.'