V3: Penny Wise, Pound Foolish

	On the day upon which Penny first encountered the Wild Bunch, Ritva Mariksdottir had made the future seem so close as to be touchable. Find this ‘Grim’ person, some sort of chieftain or warlord, report to him, and then it would be on to Glockenbaltz and victory! It was a little frustrating that they would actually pass the city itself by and then have to return, but she found to her surprise that she was actually confident the Lakelanders would do just that. As they rode back to their camp, her in the wagon with the majority Garret and Associates’s worldly possessions, images of her palace, the dresses she would have, the cakes she would eat, had danced through her mind. It had done a great deal to mitigate the jouncing of the wagon and the wholly inescapable smell of dog, as well as the completely insufficient conversation skills of the ‘idiot’ who was tied to her conveyance by his hands.

	As far as she had been able to deduce, not only was the ‘idiot’ known to Lano and his companions as Garret was, but he actually was a Lakelander. She had checked his eyes, wondering if she might have missed the tell-tale glint of yellow in the past, but they were a simple common brown. This, as she learned, was no hint since Lakelanders in fact had the same range of coloration as humans, except with yellow replacing brown as the most usual in eyes. Upon further examination, with Ritva’s patient permittance, she further discovered that Lakelander eyes were not cat-pupiled or otherwise unnatural, except through magical modification; cat’s eyes were apparently a known application, but came with some rather unpopular drawbacks such as narcolepsy.

	How the ‘idiot’, whose name was still disguised behind a milieu of epithets with varying degress of inventiveness, had come to be outcast from Lakelander society was still a mystery to her. All she had been able to gather was that he had insulted or otherwise angered someone called Whetigo in a manner that could all have been cleared up by some sort of trial, but instead he had taken it upon himself to leave the Lakelands entirely. Not an official exile, more on the order of a skipped bond, and now he had been recaptured by what could reasonably be considered ‘friends of the court’.

This information had been provided by Ritva, since the ‘idiot’ was not forthcoming in the slightest despite many hours of questioning by Penny. All he had done was glare and growl, and once he had tried to get physical about it, but Ritva had put a stop to that through the simple expedient of tripping him before he could climb into the wagon’s bed. They hadn’t let him drag for all that long, just enough for him to get scraped up and dusty, but it hadn’t done much for his attitude besides curbing whatever violent tendencies he wished to express.

Turning her efforts to the far more likeable Ritva, who had been retained in her position as Penny’s warden, she attained numerous useful facts. First, that wardogs were indeed naturally occurring in the Lakelands, and that Lakelanders themselves considered normal dogs to be the aberration when it came to size. Secondly, that they were absolutely not for petting unless their rider said otherwise, on pain of loss of limb or life, but with permission they were eminently snuggable, and as equally desirous of treats and scritches as any dog Penny had ever met. Third in importance, though second in acquisition, that it was extremely painful to be flicked on the tip of one’s ear by a hard finger, as well as humiliating; that was how Ritva had forestalled her attempt to lean out of the wagon and touch the dog in the first place.

Further applications of the flicked finger, colloquially known as “a thumpin’” according to Ritva, were dealt out for any infraction which was serious enough for its repetition or even singular action to be discouraged. Attempts to provoke a thumpin’ and then avoid its execution met only with failure, as well as the disconcerting apprehension that Ritva found the whole idea of her escape, in that way or any other, greatly amusing. Highly humorous. Uproariously funny, in point of fact.

	On the whole, Penny found her current captors to be far more likeable than her previous ones. They argued much less, laughed much more, had much better food, and were much more hygienic. In the field as they were, there was of course a limit to how well anyone could cultivate a civilised odor, but at least these ‘savages’, as her Uncle had named them, made the effort. Each time they stopped to make camp at night, fully a quarter of them would set out to find the nearest source of water to bathe and otherwise ablute themselves, while another quarter set up camp and prepared a meal. Half of their number was always employed in ‘security’, a catch-all term for everything from watching the road, patrolling in the brush, or climbing a tree to get a good look around.

	She discovered that they were a highly energetic lot, obsessed with getting everything done in a timely and efficient manner, constantly in motion until the moment they curled up and went to sleep. Not that they took no leisure, but they were always /doing/, whether afoot or… adog? A Lakelander in the saddle did not simply ride and wait for the day to be over, they talked to a companion or their dog, or watched the treeline, or in some cases revealed an instrument and entertained. Of particular interest to her, Captain Lano spent most of his time studying her ledger and muttering to himself, sometimes pausing to turn around in his saddle and squint at her; what train of thought or emotion was expressed on those angular features was beyond her, though there seemed to be subtle differences depending on whatever he was reacting to.

	His disinclination to return the ledger was the one real sore point of their relationship so far, but Penny was unsure of how to resolve the situation in her favor. Previous attempts to talk him into it had bounced against a solid stony wall of refusal because “I’m not done with it”, and the following line of questions about what he needed it for had resulted in a thumpin’ from Ritva. When that had failed to discourage her, Ritva had launched into a explanation of gags and muzzles, their applications, and the adverse effects they could have on one’s jaw if one were forced to wear one for extended periods of time.

That had led to a conversation about the more depraved sort of situations a gag might be used in, complete with pantomimed demonstrations. It was a topic of such transcendent horribleness that Penny felt compelled to pursue it, encouraging Ritva to expound through a combination of leading questions, shocked gasps, and embarrassed giggling. Yes, all part of her plan to acquire information about these people, since it seemed she would be spending a great deal of time with them for the foreseeable future. Not that she was interested in such unladylike behavior, but Ritva seemed only too eager to divulge all sorts of knowledge related to her definitely disgusting bedroom activities.

It was actually easy to forget that she was technically a prisoner, given the way she was treated. Within three days, they were passing through fields so saturated with cultivation that even the minor villages were jockeying for space in the wide green and gold expanse. So long as Ritva was nearby, she was allowed to wander at will around the camp, asking questions to which she usually got enlightening answers so long as she limited herself to no more than three or four at a time. More than that usually resulted in not getting any answers at all, only stern lectures about self discipline and dourly delivered warnings that ‘the path to knowledge is paved with jagged stones’.

Things became more interesting once they passed Glockenbaltz itself, looming heart-wrenchingly close past the low stalks of grain and clusters of village buildings to the west. Progress south brought them more and more frequently into contact with other Lakelanders, first roaming bands like the Wild Bunch and then larger groups traveling a new-laid highway running east to west through the wide open farmland. It was on that road that Penny encountered her first gargant, a great shaggy thing guided by a rider mounted on its neck as it drew a train of three fully loaded wagons. Each conveyance would have required at least a pair of oxen each, more likely four to draw the one which groaned under a weight of steel barstock. And that triple load was only a single piece of a convoy made up of more than twenty beasts, escorted by dog-cavalry and a company of spear-armed infantry.

Rather than maneuver around the mass of bodies toiling their way towards the city, the Wild Bunch took their relatively small unit off the main road to make an early camp. Lano himself stayed to follow the caravan and speak to one of the guard captains, apparently inquiring after some manner of political situation. Locating a clearing just the other side of some sparse brush from a creek, they settled in to wait for dark. Fewer sentries now, though Ritva was no less diligent in her wardening than usual.

They spent an hour talking on subjects of no particular importance as they bathed in the cool, slow current of the stream. Another of the giants, Dasha, patrolled around them, occasionally hopping lightly from one side or the other. It had taken some doing to explain to the Lakelanders that she was not at all interested in disrobing in front of her male captors, any more than she wanted to have them disrobing in front of her. This hushed but very firm declaration had left Ritva extremely confused, a state which she continued to suffer even after every explanation Penny could offer. Eventually, she had agreed to reschedule a private retreat any time they were in range of suitable water. Everyone else in the crew had been notified, starting up yet more ripples of confusion and furrow-browed looks in Penny’s direction. No sense of modesty or propriety whatsoever, barbarians.

Which made it simultaneously unsurprising but no less terrifying when what could only be an overgrown brute of a Lakelander warrior came crashing through the brush. Just as Ritva exploded out of the water, Penny submerged everything below her eyes.

“Dasha, where the hell-- Ritva, I need my bulwark, dammit!” The book thief himself, intruding on a lady’s bath. Of course.

“Shit, Lano, what’s got your hair up?” Raising herself on the dry stones at the creek’s edge, Ritva started toweling herself off without regard for the fact that she was standing completely naked in full view of her commanding officer. Of course.

“We’re only an hour’s ride from the border,” he said, staring directly at Ritva as though expecting a reaction. Silence was his only answer for a moment, then…

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Ritva fairly squealed, dragging her clothes on in such a hurry that seams began to separate. “How the fuck?”

“Grim fucking Lanni, that’s how. He’s got the Seidh throwing every damn thing into conniptions and-- Hey, is that the girl?”

Penny still had her mouth under water, though her nose was now exposed for the purpose of breathing. She blew furious bubbles at him and tried to glare in place of articulate speech. ‘The girl’, really!

“Dasha, does this crik run out of the Lake, or into it?” All of a sudden, Lano looked like he didn’t want to get any closer to the water than he already was. He seemed to be looking directly at the stream itself, rather than trying to catch a peek at Penny herself.

“Curls back on itself, I think. So, both?” Ritva turned around to face Penny as she hopped on one foot and hauled a boot onto the other. “Oh, crap!”

	Without warning, the water around Penny changed direction. Where before it had been flowing left to right as she crouched with her feet on the rocky bottom, now it was pulling quite strongly towards her rear. Not quite hard enough to draw her with it, but certainly sufficient to send her flailing instinctively against the current.

	“Oh, don’t mind me,” a bubbly voice said from behind her. “Just looking for something.”

	Turning to look, Penny let out another squeak and started backpedaling towards Ritva and dry land on feet and one hand, the other vainly attempting to preserve modesty as she rose half out of the water in shock. The reason for the water’s unnatural direction of current was that it was rising in a ten foot high column, two shapeless arms protruding from each side as a frothing protuberance leaned this way and that. It looked for all the world like a child’s clay model of “person in search of lost pen”... but wetter. Even as she watched, the column drew in on itself and refined into a vaguely humanoid shape.

	“Sorry to interrupt you. Have any of you seen my… my… hmm, the words have changed, have they?” Rotating on the spot in a shower of sprinkles, the elemental leaned over the far shore and ran its shapeless hands over the stones. “I’m deeper than I used to be. Longer too… hmm.”

	“What now, boss?” Ritva muttered as the creature kept muttering to itself. Penny tried to recall if she had ever seen the woman so tense and still… Definitely not. This situation was probably a bad thing of some variety.

	“Get her out?” Lano’s voice was equally quiet, his form as motionless out of Penny’s sight.

	“If we move her, it might get pissed off. Get Spooky, he’ll know what to do.” Penny heard a soft sound as Lano started to move away on Ritva’s word.

	“Excuse me,” Penny called to the figure, and stalled. What honorific did one use for a being made entirely of stream water? Oh well, skip it. “Would you mind terribly if I got out of, um… you?”

	“No, no, certainly,” the creature said, waving one hand distractedly as it continued to examine the rocks inch by inch. “Lovely to see you, Jisha, do stop by again.”

	Hands caught Penny firmly under her arms from behind, lifting her clear of the water and setting her down on firm stone in one smooth motion. Before she could protest this rough treatment and her exposure to wandering, uncouth eyes, the light blanket which served as her towel was thrown over her head. Strong, hard hands wrapped her up and then rubbed her dry all over.

	“No time,” Lano hissed, picking Penny up and throwing her over one shoulder. It was so uncommonly shocking she couldn’t even squeak about it. The very nerve! “Ritva, keep it tight. Dasha, fade.”

	They beat a hasty retreat back to camp, those savages, those churls, without so much as a goodbye-and-well-met to the river. Which noticed them not at all, fair enough. By the time Lano set her down in the wagon, still naked except for the hardly up-to-the-task blanket, Penny had found her voice again.

	“Was that a spirit? I’ve heard about them, very wild in the Lakelands in fact. Strange that it didn’t notice you at all, isn’t it? And why were you two so scared of it? It seemed rather nice to me, very polite if not particularly focused. What do you imagine it was looking for all that time?”

	Ritva thumped her on the ear with practiced ease and timing, closing Penny’s mouth with a clop and a rub of the earlobe. “Yes, true, yes that is strange. Because they’re very strong, even the little stream spirits. That’s the problem, they don’t keep track very well, so one moment they’re friendly and then the next they get mad and drown you and then their sad because their friend drowned. Probably something that rotted or rusted or rolled away before Glockenbaltz was a two-whore village on a back country crossroads.” Taking a bundle from under her arm, Ritva shoved it into Penny’s lap. “Get dressed, we’re rolling in five minutes. In town by the end of the day.”

	“I can’t get dressed here! Oh, Ritva, there’s no privacy at all, and everyone’s looking at me. Wait, what town? There’s no town anywhere near here, is there? I’m quite sure there’s no permanent settlement between the city and the, what is it, the big swamp east of the lake?”

	Mounting up on her dog, Ritva reined around and leaned right into the wagon’s bed to put her mouth near Penny’s ear. “You can get dressed now, with twenty people I boss around maybe looking at you, or out on the road in five minutes with who knows how many and who watching you. Just put the clothes on.”

	Sighing her resignation, Penny stood up and peeled the blanket off, dropping it on the plank seat. Well, some of them were looking, but none of the shouts and calls and ribald whistles she had imagined. Actually, it didn’t seem that bad, with the light breeze chill in her wet hair and the sun glowing on her pale skin. Really rather nice, in fact. Looking down at Ritva, Penny caught an arched eyebrow and a curling lip, skin crinkling around yellow eyes.

	“I mean, you don’t /have/ to put the clothes on. If you don’t want to.”

	Snatching up her shift, Penny drew it on with all the dignity she could muster. “That’s certainly enough of that sort of talk, Miss Ritva. I won’t have anyone degrading my reputation.”