The Heavenly Host

He managed to get his turban in place and tied up his backpack. Fortunately, Trevin had suggested he pack it before the feast so he would not have to deal with it this morning. Gastropé was thankful she knew what she was talking about. It was excessively early in the morning to be thinking about packing, not after last night’s bacchanalia. Bacchanalia: that had been a new word for him. It was the word the people of the Grove used to describe feasts like last night. Apparently tied to one of the gods of the Grove. Gastropé grinned to himself. If that was a religious feast, he might need to consider getting a bit more religious.

He put his pack on and headed out through the curtains closing off his chamber and made his way to the small glade where Trevin had said they would meet. As he entered the glade, Trevin was just lifting a large kettle off a campfire grill. There was an enticing smell coming from the kettle. Maelen was sitting on bench next to a table, quietly eating some melon. Elrose and Jen had yet to arrive.

“Good morning!” Trevin smiled as she turned to face Gastropé. She was in a different colored outfit today: principally red silk, but still every bit as age inappropriate as her other clothes. “I just took the coffee off the fire.”

“Coffee?” Gastropé asked. He was not familiar with it.

“Yes, it’s made from the ground-up pit of a fruit similar to a cherry. They look like little half beans, so people often call the coffee beans, although they are really just seeds.” Trevin poured a good-sized cup from her kettle and offered it to Gastropé. “You might want to put a bit of milk, honey, or both in it to taste.” She gestured toward the table where there was pitcher of milk and a jar of honey.

“Ahh! Do I smell coffee?” Elrose boomed from the edge of the clearing as he came towards them. “It has been years since I’ve had a good cup of coffee. Very hard to get in Norelon.” He walked over to Trevin, who was in the process of pouring him a cup.

Gastropé took a sip. “Huh...” He made a face. It was hot and bitter. Honey would be good; he made his way to the table. Maybe some milk too. Maelen smiled at him.

“How are you this morning?” Maelen asked.

Gastropé grimaced slightly then said, “Amazingly, not as bad as I think I should feel.” Maelen chuckled. Gastropé took a drink of his adulterated coffee. Much better; surprisingly good, in fact. A loud shuffling noise came from the edge of the clearing; Jenn was coming in backward, dragging a very large sack.

“It looks like someone’s been shopping!” Trevin chuckled.

Jenn looked over her shoulder and grinned. “This place is amazing! I hope this doesn’t look as bad as I’m now realizing it probably does...”

Trevin chuckled. “Not at all, dear. We’ve had thaumaturgists here before; we are used to them going a little bit bonkers with their collecting things.” She tugged Jenn. “Come, place that here, along with all your backpacks. The aetós will put them on the cargo carpet.”

As people moved to pile their belongings, Maelen asked Trevin, “So, we are going by carpet?”

Trevin shook her head. “No, no, the carpets will just take us to the Nimbus. No way am I going to be cooped up on a carpet for thousands of leagues.”

“So the Nimbus is a ship?” Jenn asked.

Trevin rocked her head from side to side in a sort of yes-or-no way. “You can call it that — we do. You’ll see soon enough.”

“The Grove is landlocked. Is it an airship, like the Oorstemothians have?” Elrose asked.

Trevin shook her head. “No, no, nothing so primitive. I do not want to spoil the surprise. Come now, sit down and have some breakfast and coffee. Although if you have trouble with air sickness, I advise eating lightly.”

After finishing their breakfast, the group followed Trevin down to a larger clearing near a lake. On the shores of the lake were half a dozen large carpets. Two of them were piled high with baggage that had been tarped down tightly. Gastropé assumed this is where their packs had gone. Their group of aetós was standing nearby talking amongst themselves. There were a few other groups on the shores as well.

“Alright, time to meet people,” Trevin said. “You already know Hethfar, Danfaêr, Treyfoêr, Lythdaér, Raêfaér and Foéren.” She gestured to the six aetós. “This is Gnorbert,” she said, gesturing to a young-looking gnome coming up beside her. “He’s the Nimbus’s chief engineer.” Although young was an odd term for any gnome; they all looked old by human standards.

“Hulloo!” Gnorbert said.

“You met his father yesterday, Gnorman,” Trevin said. “Standing behind him is his apprentice, Gnermin.” A smallish, apparently shy gnome peeked out from behind Gnorbert and waved hello at them.

A very tall, thin alfar with long, brilliantly white hair walked up behind Gnorbert. He was dressed in a rather ornate long coat with a frilly mauve shirt underneath.