Petitioner’s Port

evening

I walked alone to Petitioner’s Port. 

Iskaryn objects to my use of the word “alone”, since she was, of course, with me the whole time, but she knows full well what I mean by “I walked alone” and if you want me to do this, Iskaryn, please stop being so pedantic.

I could have waited for other travelers and followed along, or maybe even joined a small traveling group, or waited for a caravan, but honestly? I didn’t want the company, and I really didn’t want to spend another night in Albastrine waiting for company, since that also meant spending more money, and more money is something we just do not have.

See? I said “we” there, Iskaryn. Are you happy now?

Petitioner’s Port is quieter than you’d expect for what was meant to be Druma’s grand southern gateway. The Kalistocracy imagined lines of hopeful petitioners streaming north—hence the name—but the place feels far more practical. Even the road from Isger is called The Path of Commencement, which tells you everything about how the Kalistocracy sees the world. It isn’t the road to Isger: it’s the road from it. As if the only direction that matters is inward.

The town itself never bought into that way of thinking. It grew on its own terms, around work and trade and whatever made sense at the time. It reminds me of Macridi in that way. Half the buildings are redwood, likely cut from the same forests I once walked through. If I’m going to leave Druma, at least I’m doing it from somewhere that feels real.

It occurred to me, because I can see the obvious, that I could just buy passage on a boat from here and be back in Macridi in a couple of days. We could even travel all the way back to Kerse. I said this out loud to Iskaryn, and she screeched so loudly that she stopped traffic on the street. I am not kidding: everyone turned to look at us. Well, the joke was on her, because I just wanted to see what kind of reaction I would get, and she did not disappoint.

Childish of me? Yes. But I’m not pretending that I didn’t enjoy it, and that’s why you shouldn’t read over my shoulder while I am writing in my diary, Iskaryn.

There is no way in the Nine Hells I am walking alone through Isger, so this time, I am waiting for a foot caravan. One is organizing now, and will leave for Saringallow in a couple of days. For once, Iskaryn and I are in agreement: this is not the time to spend my days alone, especially alone and brooding to myself, because it’s just not safe. And while I can’t just get over it, I can learn to live with it, and that is really the first step. So, forced company, it is.

The caravan will stop in Dustspawn, which is a day out of the way in addition to a short layover, and Iskaryn isn’t happy about that (how she knows so much geography is anyone’s guess). I pointed out that we didn’t have much of a choice, and she, grudgingly, agreed. The only reason I am writing down this otherwise unimportant detail is to record that I won that one, even if she only grudgingly admitted it.

There are a couple of decent taverns here, but for whatever reason, I’m not finding my footing in them. The travellers here are more focused on where they are going, or why they are going there, or whatever, and music isn’t really on their minds. I am used to having to perform above the din of a dining hall, but nothing like this. I hope the rest of the trip doesn’t go this way, because we absolutely cannot afford to spend more than we are bringing in.

Iskaryn and I are in agreement on that point, as well.