Chapter Six
The rail car was hot and stuffy. Someone at the other end was smoking a pipe that wafted a heavy sweet scent when there was no breeze. I hung my head out of the window, drawn to the cool air pushing past us, but that attracted too many looks from the other passengers. So I settled for propping my arm against the rattling window pane, rested my head on my arm, and watched the flat, grassy countryside roll by. It was only for a few hours, I thought, and tried to get some rest. I had a feeling most of our work in Rhiodeja would be taking place at night.
Drinn dozed most of the ride. Otsoa kept fiddling with a long piece of paper that he kept folded up like an accordion. He flipped through the folds to different sections, made a note, flipped to another section, and repeated the
