Fast March to the River

We were up before dawn.  Barr had a small batch of firewood and we had a hot breakfast, he had some salted pork that he's bought in Gora - he told us it was the 'emergency ration', and it was most welcome.  We broke camp as the sun came up, and the last act was to pour lamp oil onto the bodies of the Oggar and set fire to them.  They burned slowly, but we didn't hang around to watch them.  We hurried away from the camp.

We marched quickly along the road.  By lunchtime we'd covered many miles, in the five hour march we probably went as far as we would normally cover in a full day's walk.  The march did come at a price, though.  We were quite tired by lunchtime, and I had blisters on my ankles.  When we stopped for a rest I pulled off my boots and the blood stains on my socks raised eyebrows among the others.  "I thought you Dzarraf were a hardy folk", Barr quipped.  Cheeky bugger.

Mullory used the power of his faith again and healed the pain, but it didn't make my boots chafe any less.  He told me he didn't like to do this - the pain and chafing will heal on its own, and it grows back stronger.  As we'd made such good progress, though, we knew we could take it easy this afternoon.  The weather was clear and we could see the river away down in the valley, snaking its way from the mountains to the west out to the east.  Saltley was still out of sight, but it was no more than ten miles away.

The afternoon's march went well but more slowly.  We reached the river only an hour after stopping, and the road we were following turned and tracked alongside it.  Down at the river the roadway was in better condition - it seems to have been used much more, and has been maintained in places.

Our good progress continued, and the afternoon became warmer and warmer.  By evening we'd turned away from the river a little and the road reached the main highway.  We turned south and there ahead of us, across the plain was the town of Saltley.  The road wiggled its way towards it, through a rolling plain.

We reached the town's entrance just after night fell, and we slipped quietly inside.  There were guards on the gate, Hznaman wearing bright red breastplates and brown cloaks trimmed with gold.  They are quite an impressive sight, but they seemed quite bored as we passed them.  We've stopped in a tavern called "Weller's Coach Stop" which looks like it's aimed at the better off traders, those who can afford large shipments.  There is a huge coach yard, and a (comparatively) small inn.  As usual, Elenhugh has hired a suite of rooms, and we're on the top floor.  This is a new experience.  We're off down to the common room to share stories and sample the local brews in just a few minutes.