2.I

Our party made its approach by a narrow canyon through the mountains, and though we traveled at the height of warmest summer, there had still been heavy snow and need for winter gear to make way through passes barely wide enough for two men abreast or a single pack-laden mule.

I was simply glad that by this route we were ever-descending, and I hope that our return can be by a different route for I do not look forward to a climb.

At the narrowest point in the pass, the vault of heavens was close enough that one man was able to reach up to try and touch it.

For his trouble he lost a finger to the cold and the purple discoloration of skybite.

After his example, all in our party gave a proper due and dipped their heads suitably low whenever the vault was not held far enough above us.

It was after a walk of three days by this narrow way that we finally broke into view of the valley that was our next chance at rest and settled land.

The Inochi are a strange people, of them I saw only farmers and few craftsmen but was told of shepherds that were still up in the highlands grazing animals. Their valley contains no cities apparent, although there is a large fortified town set into the foot of the highest peak.

To this we made our way.

On the road we saw many farmers and a few beasts of burden.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

They make use of a curious wide hat and shawl fashioned from woven reeds to keep the near-constant deluge of rain from their heads and walk with wooden sandals that allow traversing the numerous shallow ponds with ease.

Nearly all their textiles are coarse-woven fibers and they eschew leather almost entirely, except for use as waterskins.

Isolated as they are on all sides by mountains and an extremely low vault of heavens, I would not be surprised to find that there are no lands but their own valley to be found without passage through an underway or via skypaths.

Of such, I saw none but hints of roads winding through the valley up and away into the mountains or abruptly ending at soft hillsides, though whether that was indication of an underway or simply some local destination, I cannot say.

Thankfully, they still spoke a common language with us (although my Kolkor was rough, father’s was quite adequate to the task and I got the impression our hosts spoke it hardly better than me.)

We were welcomed as travelers and what goods we had from home were appraised and considered with interest.

It was while we were settling in with lodgings in the town (which was simply called the town, as there was none else in the valley) that word reached us that our arrival had garnered interest from the seer of the mountain Shialtza.

To which we were requested to attend them in an audience come midday tomorrow.

I will admit that, after traveling for three days through the narrow canyon with the very stars and sky in hand’s reach for much of it, I was not looking forward to climbing so many flights of stairs to the structure that they called a monastery.

Still, at least whatever lord or master this seer was had the good manners to allow a night’s sleep before that.

-Excerpt from the travel log Pythra of Veracules