Gozran 3, 4713 (evening, Muliwan)

I brought the last of the rescued into town this morning and took them to where Dasi has been staying. He’s worked diligently over the last couple of days to get them all settled here, setting them up with the money we provided and, in the case of those who need it, people to care for them while they recover. He’s done well putting this all together. It helps that he’s charming, more or less native to the area, and a good judge of character. Normally, I’d worry about townspeople taking advantage of them after we left, but I don’t think that’s going to be a problem here.

Despite its small size, Muliwan seems to be the right sort of place for them. As a trading town, it’s got plenty of foreigners and none of the hostility towards them that seems pervasive on the plains of Hongal. It’s also far enough from Ordu-Aganhei to not be under its influence, and I don’t think I have to explain why that matters.

I’m spending the night here again because I feel like it. We’ve got over a month of travel ahead of us, and I’d like another night in a real bed before we go. That, and I want to be around people for a little while longer, the sort that are just going about life without some sort of mask on. You go outside here and talk to someone who says they are a baker and odds are pretty good that they’re just a baker. They’re not hiding a mysterious past or living some double life. You can almost feel like you’re normal when you’re surrounded by it.

Qatana asked if I could make a large tureen and some bowls in the usual Groetus motif. She’s setting up an impromptu soup kitchen in a couple of nights to help the needy and homeless here—human settlements are pretty much the same no matter what part of the world they’re in—so I said yes. I have often wondered what Shelyn thinks of this sort of thing. It’s not the first time, nor is it likely to be the last, that I’ve whipped something up in this theme. She obviously doesn’t disapprove as there’d be no question about that if she did, but that does not necessarily imply approval. Or maybe I am overthinking this. Maybe art is still art, even when it’s creepy, grinning skulls.

And then there’s Nihali. Am I flaunting my nonconformity? Heretical is probably a little strong, but entering a Shelynite temple with a black raven on my shoulder has to at least qualify as eccentric.

Gozran 7, 4713 (early morning, The Forest of Spirits)

Zosi looks nervous. We’re leaving for Minkai—again—in the next hour or two and his anxiety suggests he is not eager to go. He doesn’t talk a lot about hinmself or his life before joining up with us so I don’t have any idea what it could be, but clearly it’s not his first choice. Which means he more or less signed on with the wrong crowd. If we are successful, we’ll be there for a while. If not? We’ll be there a lot longer.

Gozran 27, 4713 (evening, The Forest of Spirits)

We crossed a major river today. It was a lot easier than that time we forded the Taraska at the Crown, when we had to find shallow waters, wait for low tide, and float the wagons across the icy river. This time we had the benefit of spells and literally built a bridge. It won’t win any awards for design, but it did the job.

So this is it. We’ll be out of the Forest in just a couple of weeks.

We asked Miyaro for advice, as just rolling through Minkai in a caravan so obviously not from this side of the world seems unwise. She suggested seeking out a band of ronin in the Osogen grasslands. It appears that the nascent rebellion has begun in the north, which makes sense since that’s about as far from Kasai as you can get.

Since Dasi is actually from here, and has lived under the Jade Regent, we asked him what he knew. He remembers Emperor Shigure coming to the throne, but being sent into hiding for his own safety when rumors of an assassination plot came to light. Most of the people in Minkai are waiting for him to return.

Of course, we know that’s not going to happen. We told Dasi about the visions we had in Brinewall when we found the Seal. To say he seemed concerned would be an understatement. He was probaby holding out hope, but I am convinced that, deep down, he knew. We just stripped away the veneer.

Desnus 17, 4713 (afternoon, Minkai)

After nearly ten months and some 9,000 miles of travel we have finally arrived in Minkai. The caravan emerged from the thinning forest into rolling grasslands.

There was this moment when I had a flashback to the visions from Brinewall. I was standing here, or somewhere very much like here, as legions of oni descended into the country spread out before me, storms raging overhead. It was a metaphor, obviously, but the view was real. The place is real.

Desnus 23, 4713 (morning, Osogen Grasslands)

Miyaro is guiding us to a series of farms and rice paddies near the Kosokunami River, just below they Kyojin mountains. The ronin Hirabashi Jiro is known to live here, and is potentially sympathetic to the idea of an uprising. That we’re somehow going to find literally one person in thousands of square miles of landscape strains credulity, but Desna is no stranger to Minkai so I’ll just have to trust that she’s laid the path.

We have passed a number of villages and farms, and with each mile they become more frequent and more populous. After so many months of isolation it’s a welcome change.