Day Seven-Hundred-Three: Hmmmmm

Does my breath smell, or something? What's up? I mean, it has always smelled, if you talk to Libby, but... seriously... what is up?

We continue to recuperate in Desert's Edge today. The city is warm, welcoming, and forever open for business to anyone who has a full coin purse. Turns out a large portion of the crew actively stole riches from Rodentia's palace without letting me know, so our purse is surprisingly fat. The Dauphine is quickly being restocked... though I fear some of the local shysters may be exploiting our ignorance of desert travel.

"You will need these patented desert blankets!" one merchant proclaimed, hoisting a bundle of dun fabrics. "They retain the moisture given off by your bodies! Lick the inside of your blanket and you'll have enough water for the rest of the day!"

"Our pickaxes are a must-have!" shouted another storeowner. "They contain the spirits of the desert miners of old! They will send you to riches unbelieved by mortal men! Simply point the pickaxe and follow the glint of its edge!"

"The staff of the Sandy Emporium heartily recommends purchasing these special apricot plants!" said the only member of the staff of the Sandy Emporium. Truth be told it was a tiny market stall that couldn't possibly have accommodated more than one person. "They promote sexual vitality!"

"Why on earth would we need these in the desert?" asked Logan, whirling one of the apricots on his finger.

"Can't hurt!" The vendor crossed his arms and thrusted with a grunt.

Nagi has been useful in steering us away from such peddlers. She's been here before, it seems, and she has a good sense for proper merchants. I'm not afraid my crew will spend a lot of money on junk, of course - after all we've been through we're not the least bit naive - but it's nice to see that Nagi is finally pulling her weight. I guess being saved from a murderous Non improved her opinion of the Dauphine's crew.

(Though she was pretty sad to hear about Bora. And a little revolted. Let's not get into that, though, shall we?)

Throughout today's shopping excursion I couldn't help but notice something odd: Nagi, Logan, and my family aside, the crew of the Dauphine has been avoiding me. Like, completely. They barely talk to me, they won't come near me unless they have to speak to Libby, and if I approach any of them they'll come up with some excuse to leave and scatter into the streets of Desert's Edge, lost in a tidy sea of Ed-skinned strangers. Why?

"They're probably nervous," Libby said with a shrug. Her eyes couldn't seem to settle on anything. "You've been through a lot lately. Bet they blame themselves."

"Why?" Sitting in a small cafe, I watched Grylock skitter across the street with a brown sack over his shoulder. "Only Traveller punched me. No one else is at fault."

Libby stirred her cup of tea. It seemed oddly gentile for such a rough-and-tumble gal. "Well, I more meant the whole Doc-tracking-us thing. No one caught on to how he was doin' it. That's gotta gnaw at you."

"Doesn't seem to gnaw at you." I cocked an eyebrow. I assume Libby couldn't see it under the swathe of bandages still hiding my forehead.

"I did my part." She sipped, grimaced, and added a dollop of sugar to her tea. "They didn't."

"And what was 'your part'?"

"Blew him up." Another sip. "Ahh, much better. I should start drinkin' tea."

I remain suspicious.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Wanderer