Chapter 3

The character of the land changed, becoming hills, then foothills, then mountains. They struggled up a steep but well worn path, a veritable highway for this age. The character of the people changed, becoming more stocky and broader of face, narrower of eyes. They all looked blankly at the travelers, as if unconcerned about their well-armed presence. Tuk killed a snow leopard which had tried to get at the horses, catching it in mid-spring with a deft slice which removed it's forepaws and head in one well-timed blow. John couldn't have done better himself, and might have been caught day-dreaming.

Tuk wasn't as enthusiastic about his adventure as he thought he would be. It was altogether too much travel, and not enough excitement. John and Zithrusa kept busy with tasks like fixing harness, weaving, carving, and spinning yarn, (John had finally gotten the hang of feeding the material into his spinning fingers evenly.)

By now Zithrusa had woven enough material to make them all warm layers for the colder air of the mountains. Some nights they had to pitch one tent in the other, leaving an air pocket between, and all sleep in the inside tent together, to stay warm. The horses huddled up tight, nose to tail. When possible they stayed in way-houses, which were surprisingly vermin free.

The mountain pass was soon reached in a matter of a few weeks from the start of the climb, and within a few more weeks they were entering the green jungle on the other side. The lush vegetation closed in, reducing the visibility down to a mere hundred feet down the winding trails.

They were going to need a guide soon, for translation as well as cultural interpretation and navigating. They had to take to the trees to pick off a pack of feral dogs with arrows as the horses plunged and reared, standing back to back like a good defensive herd. One horse got a torn belly, but seemed alright when Zithrusa sewed it back up with silk thread. They let it heal and didn't call upon it to be ridden for awhile.

After that the horses were much more alert, and let the humans know by their nervousness if there were any dangerous beasts near. John had Tuk ride ahead a little ways, and he put Zithrusa ahead of himself, as the jungle was so close, and anything could be hidden in the underbrush beside the trail, unseen. They came to a village, and there was some kind of festival going on. People were praying at brightly decorated shrines, placing colorful fruits and cooked rice in tiny bowls, and colored swatches of fabric and arranged flowers in front of, on top of and all around wherever they could find room.

No one spoke either Zithrusa's language nor the court language, so they could not ask anyone what the celebration was about. As they traveled further into the country, they learned that there was a festival nearly every week, and that hundreds of gods were honored.

In little pockets of area they found a new belief system or two, that were nearly the same except for one believed that animals should be treated well, that they should not strive to attain wealth, but to disdain the demands of the flesh, and the other believed that the bodies needs should be ignored and that constant meditation was the path to freedom from the eternal cycle of reincarnation. John couldn't really tell the difference, but it seemed that there was a big difference, and the believers felt quite strongly about it. It was a very good thing that both of the sects were non-violent, and tolerant of other beliefs.

John talked to Tuk about it, and they both agreed that tolerance for others was probably the most single important aspect that a religion could have. It was too easy to slip from condemnation and disapproval to persecution and pogrom.

As they progressed, their need for an interpreter became more and more obvious. It seemed that as well as one hundred gods, the people had even more languages. It Was like three hundred countries crammed into one. They were approached by a turbaned gentleman on an elephant, who conveyed to them that they were to come with him. He didn't seem mean, merely insistent. So they turned their horses and followed the elephant on a side trail, which was actually more well maintained than the traders route. They came to a large building, built in many layers, with lots of flat outdoor terraces, many tall stone columns, and cool shady rooms that were however open on several walls to the outside. It looked like the marriage of 40 couples who had decided to pool their wedding cakes.

All about the building the underbrush had been cleared, leaving scattered fruit trees, partial shade, and a pleasing view. They left their horses and goods, being made to understand that all would be well, and they were invited to put their bows and arrows aside as well. Nothing loath, they left their ranged weapons behind, it wasn't as if they would be much use in the confines of the building anyway, and John had enough throwing knives to make up for their lack. They got the impression that they were being invited to lunch, and in fact, such was the case.

They were directed to a table laden with food, which however had no animal flesh included, at which sat a man with a large turban and an equally large bushy steel grey beard and mustachio. He smiled broadly at them displaying strong white teeth, and spoke to them in a badly accented yet very understandable version of the court language. John restrained himself, and allowed Tuk to take the lead. After all, this was his adventure.