24-25 Ashan 721
Continued from here
Oram peered pensively at the drumstick in his hand. Usually, the traveler would have considered a fresh-cooked dinner a treat, especially when he had expected to spend the next few trials eating dried rations in the field; however, the circumstances under which this meal had come to him, tasty though it was, did not sit well. He and Ranger Hopkins had just made an intriguing discovery while placing observation teams to keep an eye on Slag’s Deep and its approaches from the West when a messenger had found them, bearing a peremptory order to return to Egilrun to brief Chief Ranger Elliott on anything unusual. They were not to run any further missions, the message had emphasized, which obviously included Oram’s planned visit to the north coast of the island. There he had planned to investigate the inland dunes of mostly red sand that Baron von Smooglenuff’s maps had indicated, and about which little else was known.
Oram and Hop had both wanted to go back out to resume their patrol after reporting to the Chief Ranger, but Elliott had overridden them. Both of them had tried to argue their point, that the region was still largely unknown, and that the oddities they had already uncovered made it more pressing, not less so, for them to learn what lay in those northern stretches.
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”That’s enough!” Elliott had cut in repressively. ”There is more that is missing from our knowledge than your silly red sand, Mr. Mednix! As it happens, some similar clusters of vegetation have been reported just west of here, just south of the road to Scalvoris and leading off towards the Sweetwine. That’s more important, in my view. Ranger Hopkins, I want you to investigate this right away. Specifically, I want to know if this strip of odd vegetation in fact runs all the way into the Sweetwine. Don’t follow it into the forest, though. Just to the edge, assuming it extends that far, then return and report once more.”
The pair looked uneasily at each other, and Oram cautiously cleared his throat. ”Perhaps I-”
”-will stay right here in headquarters,” interrupted Elliott. ”I would remind you that your main mission here is not intelligence gathering, but supervising the ongoing setup of this base. There’s still a lot of work to do, and I gather you’ve been too busy playing Patrol Prince to attend to that work properly. I expect you to remedy this going forward.”
Oram opened his mouth to…well, he wasn’t sure what he had planned to say, but at any rate he never got the chance, for the Chief Ranger plowed on: ”It is evident to me that you will henceforth not participate in the planning, conduct, nor debriefing of any additional patrols. Moreover, it is evident to me that this sands survey nonsense is a red herring, and is of no intelligence value whatsoever. Go attend to your *assigned* duties, and do not trouble me with your sands again, clear?” The Chief Ranger looked expectantly at both him and Hop.
The pair looked at each other glumly and then mumbled: ”Clear.”
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”You gonna eat that or just stare at it?”
Oram glared at Herman, who now sat across from him, then pointedly took a bite from the drumstick and chewed ostentatiously without taking his eyes off of the stable master. Herman looked away after a couple trills and left the hunter alone after that.
In truth, Oram might very well have let his dinner get cold had the ranger not broken his reverie. Now that he was once more focused on the food, he made himself eat it. Bite, chew, swallow, resolving not to dwell on Elliott’s refusal.
He had just finished the drumstick and started on the stuffing when he remembered, and froze. He was playing the fool, he realized.
”You gonna eat *that* or-” Herman started.
”I need you to get Mule ready,” Oram declared abruptly. ”I’m going back out.”
The stable master frowned. ”You sure? You just got back.”
”He’ll be fine. Just get him ready.”
Herman gestured with his spoon at his bowl. Oram nodded impatiently. ”Of course. I’m going to finish eating first, too. I just want to head out while there’s still a couple breaks of sunlight left."
The stable master answered with an indifferent shrug and resumed eating.
About a break later, Oram was once more riding his hardy, long-suffering mule across the bridge where he and Hop had encountered Ruffin McGuffin that morning. At the point where he needed to leave the road, he dismounted and walked his mount the rest of the way to the camp, where he was greeted with the challenge for the password he and Hop had given the rangers earlier that trial.
