Lettie was ignoring the fact that Bettina was pregnant. Bettina didn’t know she was pregnant, the embryo was hardly a week old. But Lettie knew. She knew that the grass she had pitched her tent on was a mixture of Green Swald and Verdurgana, with shoots of Clover and tiny clusters of Drovers Carpet. She ignored that too. She ignored the materials the blanket was made out of, its manufacturing process, the exact height of the table, the ratios of every side of it to each other side, she even ignored the fact that she was hungry. Lettie was quite proud of that. It took a lifetime to get good at ignoring things, which meant that she was ahead.

Right now Lettie was focused on the skull. The glowing skull sawed off the neck of a cultist by a radioactive death wizard that dreamed of peaceful tomorrows. But she was ignoring that too. She was focusing on the skull and on the map. The map was… changing.

Stellar progression, Lettie reckoned. Not usually something that maps took into account, but if the map was old enough, it might have to adjust for the movement of the stars. Which, if that was what this was… what the actual hell is going on? This was someone’s skull. She had to scrub out the brain matter and figure out how to clean out all the stubborn skin and gristle that was messing up the examination.

Was the skull… updating in real time? Was there an original conversion of the skull planned, and then… the map had to update to reflect current conditions? If so, how? What was it connecting to, if anything? So many questions!

One answer was certain, though- the first waypoint on the map was Vast Green Isle. It was like she was solving a series of complicated math problems, and could only solve the first bit. She had to get more information to solve the next problem and so on. So. Vast Green Isle, stronghold of the Sea Folk. Possessed of strange, terrible technology that they hid from the rest of the world, deep in their ocean fasts. Xenophobic, capricious, powerful.

Lettie could hardly wait! It was going to be so much fun! For a start, the food! They had amazing food, in the foreign quarter of their trade colonies. Sure the staff was a little… weird… but the food was great. And the beds were unreal. So comfortable it was like sleeping on the most supportive cloud imaginable. Temperature controlled rooms could be had for a price. It was a little slice of paradise.

Of course, what she was looking for was unlikely to be in the trade quarter, so that made things a little dicey. There was no “disguising yourself’ and blending in with the sea folk- there weren’t any ashore. There were only their homunculi, and they recognized each other. Anyone caught sneaking in, vanished. And every single person was caught.

Lettie frowned, ignoring the precise sums for the tensions on each muscle that pulled her face into that expression. She likewise ignored the seventy two songs who’s beat she was tapping with her feet. She continued to ignore the fact that she was hungry, though that was getting harder to do.

There probably wasn’t anything she could do about it at this point. So she would simply launch herself into the unknown, ready to take on all comers. And with that bit of pep talk, she draped the heavy wool blanket over the skull, blinked in the sudden darkness, and went for dinner.

Which she had to cook for herself, damnit. She had ignored that bit. Grumbling immensely and incoherently, she plopped down her little heat stone and started cooking some instant noodles. They were her secret treasure. Dried, pre-cooked noodles went into the boiling water with a few measured spoonfuls of powdered vegetables and salt. A few slivers of fresh vegetables from the cantons they passed by and even, right at the end (whisper it softly) an egg. Put the lid on, and exactly three and a half minutes later- perfection. Warm, soul nourishing, bursting with flavor, like a mouthful of life itself. It was the absolute best.

She flopped, narcotized by a big bowl of deliciousness, looking around her tent. It wasn’t much, as tents went. Very limited feature set. Disguised solar array, puncture resistance, fire resistance, waterproofing (obviously), passive noise reduction, just the basics of the basics. Kind of crappy, until you realized that everyone else was using tightly woven canvas and sheets of algae polymer.

No, there was no sugar coating it, the tent was lousy. She was camping. This was roughing it. She didn’t want to rough it, she wanted a beautiful house, with a library, and maybe a lab. She could put a fine shine on this turd, but its inherent fecal nature was always there. Well, at least she had managed to make some improvements. She had hardly any time to work in Sky’s Echo, and working on the trail was such a chore.

She shook off some of the lethargy, and went to chat with the neighbors. It was important to blend in. And watching Bettina pretend that she didn’t even know Kimoy was adorable. Ah, young love. Lettie smirked a bit at that, and corrected herself. Ah, young lust. Like candy for a bitterly divorced woman like herself. Madam Lettie put on a sensible hat that could stop small arms fire almost as well as the heat of the sun, pulled on boots that were absolutely snake proof, and went to make nice with the neighbors.

“Oi, Madam Lettie! All done with your witchy business?”

“It’s not witchy, it’s guild rules! You know how Greensmiths are- trade secrets are our whole deal.”

“Yeah yeah. Can’t help but notice you are looking mighty energetic after… all that.”

Because +5 inner ear stabilization, +7 ear drum reinforcement and +2 brain fluid shock absorption is nothing you want to screw around with. And for the n’th time, Lettie cursed her father for making those numbers not correlate in any meaningful way to each other, or to anything else for that matter. More number is better. Bigger number is better. Go DING! Number go up! Like a little rat pulling a lever to shock a researcher. Getting that dopamine thrill.

She hated the fact that it worked, so, so much.

“Good clean living.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So can you turn our aurochs into milkers instead of pullers or not?”

“No. I told you no. Lem, I think I’ve told you no four hundred and seventeen times this trip.”

“Can’t be that many. I was sick a few days.”

Lettie paused and considered that.

“You’re right. Three hundred and ninety eight times.”

They chuckled amiably. It was an old joke at this point.

“Seriously though-“

“Yes, I’ve put together enough tools and medicine to make sure the next generation of Aurochs will breed for milk production rather than strength. Obviously you can use the bulls for whatever.”

Lem just nodded. It was a simple fact, this far north. Vegetarians died in winter. You could stockpile all you wanted, well, you could stockpile as much as you could, but animal protein was all that was going to be available through the winter. You could hunt for them, but that was very hard, and very dangerous. Better to just… enjoy some milk, or yogurt or cheese. Eggs, fresh from the hens keeping warm next to the cows in the barn. The barn that you might also live in.

Go to the store and buy fresh food? Maybe all the ingredients for a tender lettuce salad, with orange segments, fresh dill and a good drizzle of extra virgin olive oil? Good luck with that.

“We have a pretty good deal going. I’m providing the cows for breeding, Mei Mei is providing the wood cutting tools to make boards, and ‘Mkabi is providing the timber framing know-how. We all pool the costs, all contribute labor, and hopefully by next spring we will all have nice snug homes with milk cattle.” Lem smiled proudly.

“That’s great! Say, about that. Didn’t you say you had some kin already living in the New Territory?”

“Heh, good memory. Yeah, my cousin Lem.”

“Wait, his name is Lem too?”

“Him, two uncles, one grandmother and five more kinfolk of assorted ages and genders. That’s just the Chippiquick Prudush, of course. More Lems in other branches of the family.”

“I’m going to regret asking this but… why?”

“Easy to spell.”

“Of course. Pardon me, I’m just going to be reconsidering my life for a minute.”

“Take your time. Was there something you wanted to know about Lem?”

“Not any more. Ah no! I mean, yes, I do have something I wanted to know. He lives in the foreign quarter of Vast Green Isle, right?”

“Nah, they don’t allow residency of more than three days a week for people not in a caravan, and not more than ten days for people who are in a caravan. Locals have set up a good sized town just across the channel, around the mouth of the river. That’s where Lem lives. He got into a shellfish farming operation with Lem. And Lem’s a Nillik Prudush, so not what I would call a good sort. Mother Moon forgive me, but there is a limit to kinship and I swear it’s right on the Nillik Canton line.”

“Shame. So does-“

“Now, the good news is that he did hook up with Lem, who’s got a ten percent interest in a barrel making operation, so she can get them good, tight little barrels to pack their oysters in. Let’s them sell a good ways inland for not too much more money.”

“A Chippiquick Prudush?”

“No, sadly. The Maa’l Prudush have that drive, you know? Drop two of them in a cave and they’d get rich selling each other rocks. We had hoped she would marry in, but she wound up marrying out to some “Tony” fellow. I mean, of all the stupid sounding names.”

“Yes. The worst. Mhmmm.”

“Anyhow, Lem and Lem are doing ok, all thanks to Lem, but I can’t help but worry about them. You know?”

Lettie waited two beats, but it seemed like Lem was done.

“So Lem has access to boats?”

“Oh sure, got a little fishing boat and the like, probably knows everyone down the fishing docks. About all that Lem is good for, you know, navigating all those shady folk trying to take over the docks. Happens in every port, I hear…”

Lettie grinned. She couldn’t hardly wait to get to Vast Green Isle. There were just so many interesting problems to solve and mysteries to unravel.

“Say, could you introduce me?”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Lem’s deathly afraid of witchcraft. He’d hide from you. And Lem would probably rob you if he got you by yourself in a boat. And Lem, of course, is working like blazes making barrels.” Lem shook his head sadly. “If only cousin Lem was here, he’d straighten them all out.”

Lettie’s mouth twitched slightly.

“You are screwing with me, aren't you?”

The young farmer grinned with gap toothed yokel honesty.

“Me? Naaaaw. Now Cousin Lem, that is, different cousin than the other cousin, she’s not even on this side of the Rampart, she’s the jokester.”

Lettie could see it. The tens of thousands of statistical calculations all lead to a shit show of apocalyptic proportions, attended by shrieking flocks of hayseeds named Lem. She cracked her neck.

Change of plans. Massage, then infiltration.