On a boat down the Carabian River, Day 3. The rain has dried up, it's still gray. We're traveling through hilly woodlands, and the river is twisting like a snake. So far, so good. The lectures from Magus Celon are SO boring, though. Mostly he's been describing Carabos, the city and the customs, and proper ettiquitte. In minute detail. I really don't need to know a seven hundred year history of Gnomish Dinning Habits. Or the ancient origins tea sandwiches. It's maddening! He goes so far back, that by the time he's finished, I've forgotten the rule he was teaching in the first place! I don't think it will be too much of a problem, though. Carabos is a Gnomish kingdom, but the University is separate. I've heard that it is a city unto itself, and an international haven for all of the five peoples. I'm sure I'll do fine.
Speaking of food, that's the one complaint I have on this tub. Apparently, Captain Pitt once lost a vessel to fire, and he's paranoid about losing another. So there is almost no cooking allowed here on The Halcyon. In the morning, there's oatmeal and tea, and then that's it for the whole day! I swear, the rest of the diet is rounded out by what raw supplies they pick up at stops: Jerky, hardtack, cheese, and maybe some local fruit. I'm not sure I can take much more of this! Ceylon takes it with stoic indifference, and Mr. K barely seems to eat at all. In this hardship, though, Gloria has proven to be a staunch ally. We're bunked together in a little cabin, in beds that are stacked one on the other and bolted to the wall. She says that her grandmother told her about a spell, that servants of the Gods use to when traveling in the wilderness. It allows them to pull food out of thin air. She thinks that the mages must have an arcane version. She's convinced that while we're scrabbling by on hard tack, they're summoning turkey legs. I'm glad that this has put me on better footing with her. The incident hasn't been forgotten, but things seem, better. We haven't said more than two words about it, though. I'm still a little worried.
We should be coming into a port later this afternoon. I hope we pick up more passengers. And that they let us off the boat for lunch. Going from the Halfling faire food to ship's rations is like some kind of torture. I almost wish the school was run by them rather than the gnomes! Now that I wrote it down, I am craving turkey legs. And cranberry sauce. Do they grow cranberries this far south? I think Celon was saying that Carabos is citrus country. Oranges, and lemons and things. They grow tea, too. Everyone drinks tea there all the time. I had it once, it was interesting. But I'm getting off track. I think hunger and boredom are actually writing this page, not me. Well, no time to rest! It sounds like Magus Celon is calling for us. More later!