Concavenator:

The sled stood where they had last seen it, its thin mast whipping in the wind, and the furled waxed sails threatening to break their restraint. When Kukri and Giya reached it, the driver and the youth who'd called them were already hoisting two of the heavy pulling ropes on their shoulders.

“Come!” the driver shouted, like the other barely visible under her heavy coat “Get a move and pull your part! We leave here now!”

Over the hissing of the wind, the flapping of the sails, the creaking of the ropes, and the crackle of ice shattering under the hull, there almost seemed to be shouts coming from deeper in the city.

pinkgothic:

The urgency was out of proportion to the time they had cited to Kukri, and she found herself irked by it, but not to the point where she was going to complain. Neither did them forgetting about her injured leg give her pause just yet. She gestured for a moment's pause. “Giya,” she addressed her friend. “Can you help them get the sled moving? It is up to you if you wish to help.” She glanced down at her leg for a moment of regret, then began to clamber onto the sled as a passenger, keeping her irritation to herself.

Concavenator:

The driver briefly glared at Kukri, with an annoyed tilt of her head; Giya dutifully took up one of the harnesses. The girl had surprising strength, and though her boots occasionally slipped on the ground, when she started pulling, the sled started crawling noticeably faster.

By that time, the sled was already out of the gravelly ground that helped keep it in place for the loading, and onto the stretch of compacted snow that lead outside of Yakak'ratu, into the northern gloam. A couple minutes of effort were enough to move it into place.

The driver barked an order, and both she and her helper climbed aboard, followed by Giya a heartbeat later; they rolled up the harnesses, as the vessel slid forward by sheer inertia; and just when more lights seemed to be appearing in the city, they unfurled the sails.

With a powerful jolt that knocked the chests and boxes against each other, the sled caught the wind, and rushed away from Yakak'ratu.

pinkgothic:

Kukri clutched at the sled to avoid getting dislodged by the jostling, but it wasn't her first sled ride and likely wouldn't be her last, either, and so it took very little cognitive effort to manage the shifting forces. The start of such a ride was never particularly pleasant, though, regardless, and she was glad when they were on their way. “Thank you,” she said to Giya as she clambered up, then eyed the other occupants with some suspicion. There was nothing worth stealing on her or Giya, but if there had been, she might have worried that they had put themselves at the mercy of these people. As it were, even with her injury, if they wanted to get physical for a reason other than theft, she felt certain she could make them regret it. But for now, they were their hosts, and they would be compensated for the ride, however poor their manners, or questionable their hasty intent.

Concavenator:

City lights behind, the landscape returned to darkness, save for the bluish glare of the ground. With the standoffish driver standing at the helm, the sled sailed at a very satisfying speed, after many days of painfully slow crawl to the glaciers and back.

Rows of black, soldier-straight Wollemi pines, with tattered festoons hanging from their branches from old festivals, rushed back on either side of the path, which was as perfectly traced and maintained as any railway. Huts built from stone shards and asleep penguin flocks followed in fast pursuit.

Giya was huddled not far from Kukri, taking shelter from the icy airflow behind a chest, resting her head on the hullside, and staring out in silence at the fleeing landscape. The driver's helper sat on a drum with her back to the prow, gnawing at something in a bowl.

pinkgothic:

Kukri was shielding herself from the wind's chill with her jacket, though it did little to protect her face even with her attempts to shove her snout in under a flap of it, given that she still sought to peer out. Giving up on the geometries of it for the time being, she accepted the cold to the degree her body let her, and anchored her attention on Giya. Giya was known to be silent - it was her personality type, as she had proven over and over again - but Kukri felt a worry about it, regardless. “How are your spirits, my friend?” Kukri probed, just loud enough to press the words audibly through the wind.

Concavenator:

“I am well,” she said, though her muzzle remained resting on the railing, with frost glistening around her nostrils. After a short while, she added: “Do not like the people of the sled, though. I think they do bad things. You have your writings hidden?” She pronounced the last sentence almost as a whisper, as if fearing to draw attention to the notes that had cost them such effort and danger.

pinkgothic:

Kukri, who shared Giya's general sentiment, was certainly keeping an eye on her belongings where she wasn't directly holding them. That did not count as 'hidden', but it counted as 'accounted for'. She wasn't sure why anyone would be interested in the notes of a philosopher, though - the measurements would be practically meaningless to someone not familiar with the science behind the research - and it fueled her confusion. “Why would they want them?” she asked, hushed about it.

Concavenator:

“Don’t know. Maybe they take it and then sell back it to us for much money. Or maybe they take it and destroy it because they think it is lying against ‘Au’a. Or maybe they sell it to other philosophers who wish to learn things before you. Or maybe…” She trailed off, as if there were other possibilities that were not fit to be mentioned. Her toes were twitching under the cloak, perhaps waiting for a chance to spring to her feet, but she was not looking back at the driver and her helper, not once.

pinkgothic:

Kukri could imagine them getting stripped of belongings in a pinch, of course, but there was no need to steal the notes and then demand their money if they could just roughhouse the both of them. Giya was in decently good shape, but with the injury of her leg, Kukri would not be able to fight very well to defend herself, and their hosts would know that.

Lying against 'Au'a she could not imagine as a cause - a bunch of cryptic numbers and notations could barely parse as a lie to anyone, anyway. If she had already analysed the numbers and written a thesis, it might be a different matter, but in their raw form they were not any more exciting than an accountant's minimalist transaction history: Meaningless without context.

Stealing her notes to give them to another philosopher, though, she could imagine. But again, that would require some knowledge of what it was they held - it almost outright presupposed they had been sent for her.

Either way, she took Giya's paranoia to heart enough to increase her vigilance. There was not very much that needed tracking. The bigger question was what she might do if a fight did occur; to that, she had no good answer.

Concavenator:

Giya did not object to that, at least. Perhaps her real concerns were more abstract and not so easily put into words; and out of grasp for now, much like her home.

The sled operators did not talk much, and when they did it was mostly in a trade cant that neither Kukri or Giya could follow well. After an hour or so, they exchanged places, the first driver sitting down for a meal, and the other taking up place at the helm, with a broad-brimmed hat that shielded her eyes from the headwind.

The off-duty driver spent some time laboriously tearing apart a roasted auk and drinking from a wineskin embroidered with Takrakaya patterns. For a while she seemed to ignore her passengers altogether, but after a particularly deep swig, though without turning away from the cargo, she asked: “Far from home?”

pinkgothic:

“Certainly further than I might like,” Kukri admitted, making conversation. “But sometimes the circumstances demand such things. I assume the same is true for you especially, given that you take the time to maintain and run a sled.” She said it with kindness, but wasn't sure to which degree the wind was letting that subtlety through.

Concavenator:

The driver chuckled dryly. “You could say that. Always on the wind, back and forth and back. And you're here all alone, hm? Or is that a friend of yours? She looks sick. Not good if you run into trouble. But I have here some podocarp wine that will set your innards alright if you let it.” She took another sip. Under the coats it was hard to see the exact tilt of her head, though it seemed to be a friendly one.

pinkgothic:

Giya had struck Kukri as remarkably resilient, but perhaps the observation was true, regardless - just because Giya's immune system was treating her well did not mean she was not perhaps ill. It was easy to be poor and ill, and Giya had certainly been poor… remained poor, technically, no matter how much they were both working on changing that.

“She's tougher than she looks,” Kukri said, gently, even though it was technically a lie - Giya looked every bit as tough as she was. “But I thank you for the kind offer.” Of course, maybe she shouldn't be accepting or declining things on behalf of another, but Giya had made it quite clear she didn't trust these people, and so Kukri felt her gate-keeping was valid.

Concavenator:

“Good, good”, the driver said, looking away into the murky rushing landscape, as if she'd completely lost any interest in the passengers for a moment. “She'll need that. You always need that. As you like, then.” She took another sip. “You'll want to set down and sleep, I'd think. The wind road is still long, and I gather you'll have plenty more travel to do. Old Kaikai up there is quite good at the helm, you know? Don't tell me you don't trust her steering, ha. She wouldn't be happy at that”.

pinkgothic:

There was an urge to ask whether the driver was expecting trouble, to be making note of their constitution as she was. With the way up having been uneventful and the dangers that had been cited to Kukri countable and few, it did make her worry a bit, but the way the conversation had continued made it hard to return to that point without seeming paranoid about it. So she took a moment to gather her thoughts in the extended context, then found her angle and commented: “If the road is long, I assume we'll rest together at some point. Forgive me for presuming, but are you expecting trouble, so that we may yet need shifts to guard cargo?”

Concavenator:

The driver laughed, a short, dry cackle. “Trouble? You always expect trouble. It's in the job. The road, the woods, the cargo, oh yes, the customers too. Even the passengers, if you'll pardon me, ma'am philosopher,” and the respect in that address sounded mostly, but not fully, genuine. “Full respect to you and your companion, and all respect to our fine constables who work so hard to keep us safe. But you run there and back a few times, heh, and you see that there's always trouble. Isn't so? But me and Kaikai can take fine care of our troubles. You two don't need to worry yourselves none.”

pinkgothic:

There was a reflex that they trained philosophers out of - to say 'I understand' purely as a social kindness, when you did not, in fact, understand - and so Kukri identified the urge in herself and put it aside. Instead, she said: “Forgive me the ignorance, if you will, and have my gratitude for your kindness, but while I do travel, if not usually this far from home, I have not had the displeasure of anything but minor incidents - what you allude to sounds rather more rough. What has plagued you in the past?”

Concavenator:

“Ah, well. As long as I breathe, nothing major either. I've got all my feathers and my limbs and auk in my belly, which is more than many can say, eh? But there's always a pothole along the way, and you always have to look well who you can trust, and that goes double when you're far from home. Maybe not in philosophy. But I always thought behind your fine velvet walls there's plenty of cutting throats too, isn't there?”

pinkgothic:

Kukri grimaced mildly. “I wouldn't characterise it as such,” she said. “There is competition, of course, but it is in the joint pursuit of knowledge.” A simplification, perhaps, but if she simply went on about it without further prompting, it was certainly imposing too much on their hosts. “But I'm relieved to hear you've had no major incidents. I hope that 'Au'a would bless us so there are none on this journey, either.”

Concavenator:

“Me too, ma'am, me too. But see, now we are getting rather far from Yakak'ratu, and are nowhere close to Grikaa neither. See that hamlet over there – here – and now it's passed by, so small it was. Be in the countryside between cities, might as well be between countries. Poor old honest trader I am, really, but there's not many anymore, you know? And the constable over here, you know how it is, fine and brave, sure, but they like their little tithe too, who doesn't? And maybe they'll tell you to be afraid of us… You know, so you'd rather travel with them than us. But me and Kaikai will take care good care of you, oh yes. We honor 'Au'a the Vigilant on this vessel, so be like Her and keep a sharp eye on the path, and be ready to crouch down –”

pinkgothic:

Anything that needed crouching down for on a sail sled would just as well shear the sails right off, but Kukri found herself bundling herself a little more regardless, peering at the route. She hadn't liked much of the conversation with this woman, but she's spoken to rather more rambling personalities before, and this talk was harmless compared to some of the ravings of lunatics that might want a word with the philosophers to challenge the new sciences with a vision of theirs. She would allow herself to feel threatened if she was threatened and not a moment prior.

Concavenator:

The landscape was vast, dark, and quiet. How much it was so hadn't been obvious on the train from Grikaa, whose carriages were closed all around, and kept warm and lit by lamps of penguin tallow.<c>Having received no answer, the driver shrugged and, to all appearances, set down to sleep. A few paces away, Giya turned around and accosted Kukri, whispering: “Kukri, how it was when you came to Grikaa?” She sounded quite nervous about their current travel. In the trip to the glacier, at least, all danger had been strictly natural.

pinkgothic:

Kukri took note of Giya's concern with some of her own, having learnt to cherish Giya's observational skills by now. Granted, it was hard to say how much weight she would be giving to social hunches, given that social skills rather eased getting a proper profession, which Giya had clearly been lacking, but she was certainly willing to be more wary than not over it. “Well,” Kukri said. “The sled did get kicked off the road by the wind once, enough to get stuck for a while, but that was all. It was a bit of a rattle, and I suppose someone could have gotten hurt, but the winds right now are much steadier.” And, of course, as long as they were moving swiftly, there was not much reason to be concerned about other threats. “Are you concerned?” Well, the answer to that question, taken literally, was clearly 'yes', but perhaps she would volunteer more of her intuition this way.

Concavenator:

To that Giya replied: “We are north much more than I ever was, I think. Not the most far from home, but was never before in this land. I don't know what is here or who is there”. She turned her head to scratch the feathers on one arm.

Then Kaikai the helmswoman shouted one word, loud and cutting through the headwind. The driver startled awake, leapt to her feet, cursing in her cant, and rushed toward the prow so far that Kukri and Giya could barely follow her with their gaze. She exchanged some heated words with Kaikai and stared down at something on the ground. There seemed to be a massive tree trunk, crudely cut at both ends with branches jutting out impudently, laying precisely across their path.

pinkgothic:

Well, so much for moving swiftly. If they continued moving forward swiftly, it would and badly, and so Kukri clutched at the deck, hunkering low, bracing herself - either there would be a horrible impact and she would dislodge some of her fingers to her current posture but hopefully prevent herself further harm, or she was doing well to keep herself away from swinging ropes and the sail that might want to come around to brake them.

Concavenator:

Kaikai was turning the helm with a titanic effort, and the yet unnamed driver was directly pulling on a cable that turned the sail parallel to the wind, both of them cursing loudly. The sled screeched against the icy ground – the helm must have driven some sort of anchor – and there was a jolt that made the deck quake and the crates strain against the ropes. It was not enough to stop the sled, which would be on the obstacle in a few heartbeats.

The second impact was much stronger, making the whole mast quake and throwing even the drivers off their feet with a thunder of cracking wood. The sled had crashed into the felled tree; and its branches, black against the leaden sky, reached above the sled's railing like grasping talons.

pinkgothic:

Reality landed on 'both', and Kukri howled in reflex as the jolt bit at her joints. But her anchor held, for better or worse, preventing a number of bruises - if she'd only ducked her head, she'd be caught up in those branches now, and she wasn't convinced none of them wouldn't have taken an eye. It took long seconds for her to convince her aching fingers to let go again, her breath quickened by the pain. “Giya!” she called as soon as she could think enough to do so, a spike of misdirected maternal instincts cast toward the other woman, protégé as she had become. No doubt Giya had weathered the crash better than Kukri, though, and with more sense, given all her practical wisdoms.

Concavenator:

Indeed Giya had already sprung to her feet and was rushing toward Kukri, with sheer terror in her head tilt, and the feathers of her neck bristling like thorns. She planted her boots on the deck, which was now uncomfortably tilted, and bowed down, offering her head as a support for Kukri to stand up. One of the drivers hissed at them: “Leave if you have any sense!” and disappeared in the wind.

pinkgothic:

Leaving was the only viable option, and would have been immediately on Kukri's mind even without the prompt - even if the tree had come to fall naturally onto the path, this sled would get them nowhere henceforth. She nudged at Giya's shoulder in a gesture of appreciation, but without taking her up on the assistance to rise, as she was most of the way there already. Disoriented by the impact, she looked for her gear. She was ready to leave most of it behind, but the research - she had to find the research and bring it back home, or all of the past days' heartache had been for nothing.

Concavenator:

Giya understood and stepped back, looking around the deck for their baggage. It was damnably dark. The sail, only half-furled, was straining painfully against the ropes, and threatening to collapse – in which direction, it was impossible to tell, at it swayed every way in the turbulent air. Boxes rattled discordantly, wood groaned, canvas flapped; and then lights appeared. Yellow blubber lamps, suddenly uncovered, lit up the multitude of ice crystals swirling in the air; and a powerful voice cried from below: “In the name of the Republic, abandon your vessel!”

pinkgothic:

Kukri would gladly abandon everything in the vessel except the research. She could feel her feathers rise further in response to the added threat, but the crash had already had her on high alert, so the difference was minute. Stubbornly, she kept looking, and– there! Her bag had slipped in under the corner of a crate. Without any pretense of being quiet about it - the people who wanted the crates seemed quite aware they were there, after all - she yanked at the bag, pushing at the crate with her leg. It was the damaged leg, making the pain shoot up through her as she struggled with it, but while it yearned for rest, it still had strength.

Concavenator:

Giya had started at the call, and shrunk back against a box pile, seemingly forgetting about the search. Seeing Kukri struggle for the bag, however, she stepped forward – hunched over, with her neck retracted and her tailfan folded as flat as it could be – and helped push the crate with her side. She seemed terrified of being seen, sharply brushing frost out of her feathers as if she hoped to melt into the shadow.

The voice called again: “Abandon your vessel! This order will not be repeated!”

pinkgothic:

And then the bag was out and Kukri slung it onto her back and clambered from the wreckage as fast as the crooked environment allowed.

Concavenator:

Just fast enough, as the top of ladders was clanging against the handrails, and soon lanterns and reed helmets were peeking from below. But there was no need to cut off paths of escape; Kukri and Giya, the latter looking powerfully sick, were down on the frosty ground. A dozen people stood around them, with the padded jackets and green banners of Chaatai police, most of them carrying air rifles and ice hammers. One, who had a teratorn sigil on her jacket, stated with a voice as level the sea pack: “Identify yourselves”.