Into the Wild

Chapter 3

AN: Just a quick word, to clear anything up. There is no way in hell Will would leave Alyss for Lillian, or anyone else. I don't do character/OC pairings, unless the character is single all through the books.

Also, just a warning, there's gonna be four main OCs in this story, five if you count Lord Daan, but it's still mainly about Will and Halt and they OCs are just back up characters to gawp at how awesome rangers are, lol.

They travelled up a river, weaving between the hills thickly covered in forestry. All around them, tall trees twisted up into the sky. Some of these stretched over the water, scraping against Wolfwinds hull. Svengal cursed at this and leaned over the rail to inspect the damage.

"It's just a scratch in the paint," Halt told him carelessly.

Svengal glared at him. "I'll stick a tree in your horse, see how you like it."

"This is the Insee river," Lillian said, "It means what it sounds like. The river that runs in from the sea."

Will glanced sideways at her. She hadn't said much on the long voyage. Maybe now that they were here, she had something to occupy her mind. He knew the feeling. He could finally stop thinking about Alyss and focus on the mission.

Oramin was very different to what Will was used to. In Araluen, villages were set up around the castles where the nobles lived. Here, he could see the whole establshment was made up of lots of houses, the nobles having slightly bigger houses. The majority of the houses were built up trees, while the others rested around the river. Those would be fishermens houses, Will guessed, judging by the nets he could see on the decks.

People dressed in a wide variety of colours were gathered at the port to welcome the diplomatic delegation. Lillian stood at the front of the ship, waving to the people, her face a mask. She no longer looked nervous. Like all diplomats, she was obviously skilled at hiding her emotions when it came to the important things.

Those at the front of the crowd were the nobles. These people were dressed just as colourfully as the others, but the fabrics of their clothes were finer and embrodered with flowery patterns.

The foreigners disembarked. Will kept a straight face and stared straight ahead, though he listened to the people of Oramin.

"Look at their clothes."

"Wow, their skin is so pale!"

"How do we know they aren't evil?"

"The lord says they aren't."

The whispers died down. The crowd parted and a man walked up to them. He was dark skinned, like them all, his black hair streaked with grey and fastened in two long plaits. He had a cloak that billowed around him, blue with silver tigers embrodered on it. Around his neck hung ropes, each with leaves and flowers weaved into them.

"Greetings foreigners," he said. "I am Lord Daan of Oramin."

Lillian bowed deeply and the others followed her lead, though Svengal hesitated and his bow was clumsy.

"I am Lillian Carister, the arranged diplomat." Her voice was high pitched and clear. Will could imagine her practising in front of a mirror. Then he realised he was being unfair, she was doing a good job. "And this is my entourage. The ranger's Halt and Will and the Skandian crew under Svengal's command."

Lord Daan's eyes narrowed. "Skandians," he said thoughtfully. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes that made the hairs prickle at the back of Will's neck.

Sensing his hesitation, Lillian added, "If it pleases my lord, the Skandians will remain on their ship here in the harbour."

Svengal stiffened and Halt gave him a pointed look. Don't confront her here, he tried to convey with his eyes. For a diplomatic mission, Lillian was the leader and the others were there to protect her.

"That sounds pleasurable indeed," Lord Daan said. "Welcome to Oramin, Courier Lillian, Ranger's Halt and Will. Sirisa will show you your rooms. I am certain you wish to rest before we talk business."

Svengal huffed indignantly. "I didn't want to leave the ship anyway," he said and there was a low chorus of agreement from the Skandians.

"Just don't go raiding the coastlines or anything." Will grinned.

A young woman walked over to them. She was darkskinned, like all the Oramin people, her long black hair braided down her back in a long rope that reached her thighs. She held up her hand and kissed each of her nails, then made a waving gesture in the air.

"M'sabil Firo'g'en," She said, her voice smooth and deep. "I am Sirisa, the regensi, or translated-"

"The appointed head of foreign dealings," Lillian said, never one to miss a chance to demonstrate her knowledge. "I studied the ancient language of Oramin before we came."

Sirisa bowed her head in acknowledgement. "Then perhaps you are not as ignorant as I feared." She gave a little smile to show she meant no offense. "I will be your guide during your stay."

"Sirisa is the one to ask if you need anything," Lord Daan told them. "She will answer any questions you may have."

"Thank you, Lord," Lillian bowed deeply. "That is more than we were hoping for."

Sirisa smiled. "Please, follow me."

She led them to a wooden house, nestled halfway up a tree. She climbed easily up a knotted rope, then waved down at them.

"Lovely," Halt muttered. Will swarmed up the rope with ease, after years of climbing. Halt had done a lot of climbing in his youth so he knew the right tecnique, though he groaned at the sight of it. Lillian, on the other hand, failed to make any progress.

"Firo'g'en," Sirisa muttered. She slipped down the rope and tied it around a blushing Lillian's middle. Halt and Will hauled her up, then tossed the rope back down to Sirisa, who once again made the climb that was all too easy for her.

"Sorry," Lillian said to them.

"S'all right," Will flashed her a grin. Sirisa said nothing and ushered them inside. The house was sparsely decorated. The furniture was wooden and didn't look comfortable. There was no sign of a kitchen or fireplace.

"This is your home in Oramin," Sirisa said. "The beds are in that room," she gestured to a door. "This here is not for you to disturb." She lightly touched a wooden structure. It was made of alternating platforms, twisting around each other. A candle burned in the centre of it. "It is to bless the rooms. You may change the candle once a day, but do not move it or a terrible doom will fall on you."

"We certainly wouldn't want that," Will said. Sirisa looked at him sharply.

"Would you like to rest up for a day, or come and meet the people you will be negotiating with?" she asked.

"I'd like to meet them," Lillian said.

"If you can get down the rope, foreigner," Sirisa said. Her face was a blank mask. "Come."

There were five Oramin officials negotiating the treaty. The Lord Daan himself and Sirisa. Also, an Oramin equivalent of a chamberlain, a war general and an older man called Ruch, who's actual job was unknown to the Araluens.

Both parties were eager to get underway. Lillian soon found her stride and was negotiating very well. Sirisa would translate words when either party didn't understand a term. Lord Daan was listening carefully, without actually saying anything.

Halt and Will, though they had no real role to play in the negotiations, hovered by Lillian. They both were eager to explore, but knew foreign countries generally didn't like that.

Finally, Lord Daan indicated that they might break for a while.

"Perhaps you might like to see our army," he offered. This was in the arrangement, of course. They were hardly going to accept a treaty without first seeing what they were getting into. A representative from Lord Daan would soon travel to Araluen to see what things are like there.

Halt took over here, saying that he would very much like to see the army. It didn't escape his attention that Sirisa flashed him a sharp look. Ruch laid a hand on the young woman's shoulder.

"Sirisa, will you take our guests for refreshments. I'll get our demonstration set up," Lord Daan said. Though the words were said in a pleasant tone, an underlying hard edge confirmed that he would not accept refusal.

"Yes, Lord," Sirisa bowed her head. She beckoned to the foreigners.

A low, foldable table was set up under a glade of trees. Platters of food were brought out. The Araluens picked at the snacks, sipping at light, citrus beverages. The war general had left with Lord Daan, but the other three Oramine remained. Halt watched them out the corner of his eyes, while pretending to focus on the food.

The chamberlain was looking slightly awkward, he saw. He was probably out of comfort zone now there were no immediate negotiations to be done. Ruch was watching Sirisa intently. Sirisa had her arms crossed, her expression curiously neutral. None of them touched the food.

With slight misgivings, Halt stopped eating. He set his glass down casually. There was something off about Sirisa, he decided. He sensed there was something he was missing. It may well be harmless but there was no point in taking chances.

He subtly signalled to Will with his eyes. The young ranger stopped eating and nudged Lillian. She looked confused, though she complied.

They spent the afternoon studying Oramin battle tactics. They took great store with ambushing and darting through the thick forests. Even Halt, who had spent a great deal of his life moving through forestry found it hard to keep up with Oramine people. They were born and bred for the trees.

Sirisa escorted them back to their rooms that evening. She walked swiftly and didn't look at them. Her body was rigid with unexplicable anger.

"This is a neat country," Will said, more to his companians than her. But she spun around and fixed him with a feirce glare.

"It is our country. Ours!" she snapped.

Will, taken aback, raised his hands defensively. "Of course, I'm happy at my home."

"As if!" Sirisa snorted. "No one is ever happy with home. We all want more land, more space, no matter how many have to die to-" she stopped abrubtly and breathed deeply. When she spoke again, he voice was calm.

"I apologise," she said. "It has been a long day, we are all tired." she smiled, a fake, fixed on smile.

They were left alone in their room. They curtained off a section for Lillian, then sat down together, contemplating the day.

"There doesn't seem to be much in the way of coffee here," Halt said mournfully.

Will nodded glum agreement. Lillian, however, didn't seem to share their sorrow. She didn't like coffee, Will remembered. How could anyone not like coffee? It was inconcievable.

"Things are going well," Lillian said, changing the subject.

"Yes," Will agreed. "What did you two think of the Oramine officials?"

Halt pursed his lips. "Sirisa seems to be suppressing her feelings- a true diplomat."

"She got pretty angry back there," Will said. "Why was that?"

"You probably offended her."

"How? What did I say?" Will scratched his ear, thinking back.

"Maybe you stirred up a painful memory," Lillian suggested. She had gotten over her grudge on the boat and had an intense air of focus around her.

"Maybe," Halt was frowning slightly. "There's something wrong about her, I don't think she likes strangers much despite being the host to foreigners."

"Appointed head of foreign dealings," Lillian corrected.

Halt waved a careless hand. "Whatever. The point is, did you see how that Ruch fellow was watching her? And it's not just her, havent you noticed what they've been doing ever since the demonstration?"

Will stretched his limbs and suppressed a yawn. "They kept coming up to us, I guess. Asking us our point of view on something or leading us away to show us something totally irrelavent."

"Exactly. Why were they doing that?"

Will frowned. It wasn't like some of the errands had been informative to their goal. The Oramine just seemed to want to keep bothering them. It had happened a lot. Everytime they finished in a meeting and were just thinking of exploring.

"They don't want us looking around," he realised. "They'll show us their army, because that's part of the conditions of the treaty, but won't let us explore the country. But why? We'll have a treaty soon, so we're no threat to them."

"Maybe they're worried we'll change our minds about the treaty," Halt suggested. "Then again, it could well be that they have a tribal religion or tradition they want to preserve. They might not be willing to hand out secrets to foreigners. There's any number of resons."

Will nodded. "What do you think?" he asked. Lillian, sitting quietly nearbly, cocked her head at the older ranger-she was interested too.

Halt shrugged. "I think we should keep an open mind," he said. "And I think it's time for bed. We'll worry about it in the morning."

…...

Sirisa sat staring at a flickering candle late into the night. She heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Ruch watching her intently.

"Ruch. What is it?"

"The foreigners," he said. "What do you think of them?"

Sirisa reached for her hairbrush and started unbraiding her hair. "They're foreigners," she said flatly.

Ruch touched her shoulder lightly. "I hope you aren't planning anything bad," he said seriously.

Sirisa widened her eyes at him, fluttering her dark eyelashes. "Why, sir Ruch, I would never! How could you think such things?"

"Simple," Ruch said. "I know what happened to you. Sirisa, you know I am your friend, and you are close to me, like a nephew. But please, do not harm the foreigners. These ones have done nothing to you."

A dark shadow crossed her face. She set her hairbrush down gently. "I can't promise you anything."

By the way, Ruch is pronounced Roosh.