Okay.  This is a problem.  She's overbalanced, and she stumbles down to one knee, her hand darting to her force blade's handle.

(It almost certainly won't help the situation, especially if her current foes are apples or pickles.)

Jera, on the other hand, freezes up.  He's a healer!  Not a fighter!  His contribution is that his bioluminescence lights up the ... cellar?  in which he finds himself???  Unexpectedly???

Tora's response is to draw his psi-blade and spin, searching for goes.  It's not active.  He does his best work unseen.

There's nobody in here. It's a sizable cellar but it's still close quarters for three. It has a ladder, not stairs, and a trap door overhead.

Following a check of their surroundings, Tora looks at Carol.  He doesn't say anything.

(He doesn't have to.)

"Okay.  Fine.  Curse it, you were right."

"Thank you for saying it."

When an investigation of the cellar reveals mostly preserved, low-tech food, there's only one way to go.

Up.  Tora's first, of course, followed by Jera.  Carol takes up the rear.

They emerge into a wood-floored cabin kitchen. It doesn't have anyone in it, but there is a stew at a low simmer on the wood-fired stove, and bread in the oven, and it smells good. The window is open - it doesn't have a screen, just shutters - and they can see through it a couple of sun-bonneted women working in the garden and some people in the orchard beyond.

Well.  This isn't Patience.  Patience is a desert world, suited for large-scale mining.  It doesn't have wood, except for whatever people import.  And even if someone did have wood, wood is a luxury item - you might as well set a credstick on fire.

All of this is conveyed to Carol with a shift of body language and a little backchannel.

Nod of confirmation - he's right.  She wants to claim partial credit, though.  Keleni are unwilling to kill, as a rule.  But 'unwilling to kill' self-evidently doesn't mean 'unwilling to transport someone to another planet(?!) through unknown miracles or sorcery'.

Maybe someday he'll be able to understand the kind of silent conversations they have.  Since he doesn't have the gift of rapport that these two have, he'll just use his vocal cords instead.  "Do you think they're friendly?"  Most people are, if they have their needs met.

"They'll be friendlier the faster we get out of their home, Jera."  She glances towards Tora - can he sneak them out, so it's not obvious they just inadvertently broke into this home?

Do gheap bleat?  Of course he can.  Especially if Carol is willing to do what he says.

The cabin has a door. It's not locked. They can go out through the front room onto the shady spot out front with benches. They can't see the gardeners from here.

They can see the sky, though. Two moons, both blue-green, and plenty of clouds, and a big sun and a little sun.

Well, those are pretty.  She's not familiar with the people around here - maybe they're Westerly?  Or isolated Westerly who've given up nearly all forms of technology, for social reasons or maybe just because they've lived here for centuries and failed to jump-start the industrialization process and wore all of their tech out.

She's going to lead her little party a little ways away from the home, and then deliberately attract notice on her approach.  Flanked by her alien entourage, of course.

Success! The gardeners look up from the lettuces! "Hello there!" says one. They're humans, brown ones with darker brown hair if you judge by the eyebrows (the bonnets make it impossible to judge otherwise).

Okay.  Problem number one.  She doesn't speak the language.

This is a solvable problem.  She keeps this particular ability firmly on the down-low.  Tora knows about it, because Tora knows nearly everything about her.  But he's the only one apart from her Master who does.

She closes her eyes.  Takes in a breath.  She needs the ability to speak this language.  She needs it, and she can take it so she will take it.

And with a twist of willpower, she pulls the knowledge of how to speak this language from the brains of the bonnetted women.  "And hello to you, too!"  She doesn't have the capacity to also take cultural familiarity, but when in doubt: mirror your counterparty, giving away as little information as possible.

"What brings you three here, stranger?"

"Travel mishap, really." It's not even a lie!  "What world are we on, exactly?"

He takes half a step forward and holds Carol's left hand.  He'd like to know what the conversation is about, and unlike someone whose hand he's holding, his telepathy is touch range only.

"You're on Catchbird round. Where'd you sail from?"

"A place called Patience.  Mostly does mineral extraction, you probably haven't heard of it, though.  It's not a major world."

"Huh, I thought I knew every round in sailing distance."