It was barely dawn when Paxton shook Thallian awake. For a moment he was disoriented, unsure why he wasn't in his bedroom at home. Then the past few days returned to him in a rush.

"We need to prepare to depart," Paxton told him. "There's time enough for breakfast before we return to the wagon."

Thallian rubbed the sleep from his eyes and forced himself to get out of bed. Though it hadn't been as comfortable as his bed at home had always been, it had been good enough for him. Once up, he dressed himself and used the hole in the windowsill Paxton had told him functioned as a garderobe connected to a sewer system. Such things were becoming more common in towns that made substantial money off trade, Paxton had told him. Once dressed and relieved, he tidied his hair and wished he had remembered to bring a razor. He certainly wouldn't ask Paxton to borrow his. That would be rude of him. It was his own fault for traveling unprepared, after all.

They had a brief and fairly good breakfast downstairs before leaving. It was of thick toasted bread covered in eggs, sausage, and honey. It was served with a thick, rich milky tea drink that warmed and energized Thallian.

"It's made from the milk of the the goats that live in the mountains," Paxton explained when Thallian commented on it. "Gently fermented and mixed with tea and spices."

Perhaps the fermentation was the reason for Thallian's sudden warmth and good mood.

Once they had finished breakfast, they took their bags to the wagon, where Paxton checked in with the guard to ensure they were the proper people for the wagon and not thieves come to steal it and its contents away. The yard was bustling with others preparing their wagons, as well, with stablehands helping to hook the horses into the traces. It took some time before their pair of horses were brought to them, and just as they were approaching, the clanging of a bell startled Thallian. It rang out five times, clattering loudly over the town. No one else seemed bothered by it, only Thallian.

"It announces that the caravan into the pass will be departing shortly," Paxton explained when the clanging had stopped. "We still have plenty of time to get there. That was to wake anyone expecting to leave this morning."

"It would have done its job on me if I had still be sleeping," Thallian declared.

Paxton chuckled. "I'm sure. I like to rise before the bells to ensure I don't feel rushed. There would have been much less time to eat in peace had we waited."

The horses had just been harnessed and they had begun following the other wagons out of the inn's yard when the bell rang out again. This time, it only clanged four times. Thallian guessed it would continue ringing one less time until the final bell.

"Even once we begin entering the pass, there will be time for the stragglers to catch up," Paxton told him. "It takes some time for the entire caravan to enter the Pass."

"How many others will be in the caravan?" Thallian asked.

Paxton turned the horses out onto the main road. People lined the streets to wave at the passing wagons, and some with baskets of goods attempted to make last-minute sales of various items to passing travelers. Paxton had to stop their progress when the wagon in front of them stopped to purchase what appeared to be bread from a woman's basket. While they were halted, a man attempted to sell Thallian a knife from a diverse collection in a tray he carried.

"We are quite all right, thank you," Paxton told the man, who shrugged and went on his way.

"I do need a knife," Thallian told him. "I didn't even bring a razor, and maybe a knife would come in handy."

"You don't want to buy from those peddlers," Paxton replied. "They inflate their prices. I won't leave you all alone on the other side without ensuring you have what you need."

Thallian was surprised to hear that. "You won't?"

"'Course not," Paxton declared, jiggling the reins to get the horses walking again. "Your father might not care, but I would never leave a boy alone in another country without being provided for. That's how you get yourself into trouble. I've seen it a time or two."

Thallian fought the sudden lump in his throat. "Thank you."

Paxton shrugged the thanks off. "No need. It's the proper thing to do. Now, as to your question. There are usually ten to twenty groups in every caravan. A group meaning each wagon or wagons belonging to the same trader. You, me, this wagon, these horses, we're a group. Some send two wagons. Those two wagons are one group. They don't allow too many groups into the Pass at one time, otherwise it gets too hard on the waystations and the guards."

The bell rang out again, only three times.

They arrived at a large open area where several other wagons were already stopped. They were at the opening of the Pass, a wide road cut through the mountains. Up close, the nearest mountains appeared to only be large hills, but in the distance they towered over the landscape. The tips of the tallest ones were capped in white. People milled about, including more peddlers and people who appeared to be guards. They were similar to the ones at the inn, but several were on horseback. Three guards on foot approached their wagon and looked to Paxton. He rattled off a list of information, including his and Thallian's names, that they had only one wagon transporting cheese and wool from Uprine Fieldsman in Flocksfield, that the majority of the goods would be distributed within the Pass, and that they had no personal guards. The guards inspected the wagon's contents, placed a large number 10 on each side of it, and on the breastplate of each horse, and nodded to them.

"We'll be in the center of the line, then," Paxton explained just before the bell rang again, this time only twice.

The guards began to mill about, apparently finding their locations in what would be the line of procession into the Pass. The more Thallian looked at the hills and mountains before him, the more he wondered how there could be any safe place within them. 

"The Pass cuts around the biggest of the mountains," Paxton said, clearly having noticed Thallian's gaze. "It was created to be mostly level and wide enough for wagons to pass each other in an emergency. The waystations were built into the mountainsides or in wide cutout spaces."

"Have you seen any emergencies?" Thallian asked.

"None that were serious," Paxton replied. "People fall off horses that stumble on loose rocks. Wagons break wheels. Horses throw shoes. I've heard there can be mudslides in prolonged bad weather, especially in springtime, or snowslides in winter. I've never seen either, personally. Algoma or Phelin usually send in sorcerers to help with that when needed, to protect people."

The bell sounded one final time to a loud cheer from many of those assembled to enter the Pass. A guard on a large black horse held up a blue flag with a number 1 on it and cried, "First group!"

"They space out the groups in case of any issues entering," Paxton went on. "Some horses don't like the Pass. It also stops the drivers and riders from crowding each other."

Thallian nodded. He was listening, but his mind was still caught on what Paxton had said about sorcerers protecting travelers from mudslides and snowslides. Sorcerers could protect people. Maybe he could return here to do that and his father would know he was happy and safe.

Maybe...