“I’ll wager there’s a spring up there,” she said to Marcus on the morning of the third day, “and I say we should go and find it, or at any rate the stream it births. We’ll need to get wood for the repairs, and half a damned tree for a new mast, and I’d not mind fresh meat for dinner. Squirrel or rabbit would do.”
“Well,” said Marcus, “at any rate it’s not likelyyou’llbe dinner. Take a few of the men. I didn’t see you sprouting extra eyes in your other shape, and you might need hands.”
Since the first few revelations, he seemed to have taken Toinette’s dragon form as he did any other piece of news: factoring it into calculations of risk and reward, mentioning it as he might have done a wounded shoulder or a good following wind. Toinette had no idea what his actual feelings might be. She would have felt like a gawky stripling asking, and so she was simply glad for the practicality.
“Best leave m’lord here with us,” he added. “Should aught go amiss, you’ll want reserves, or we protection.”
It was a wise suggestion. Nothing about Marcus’s expression, nor his tone, suggested any more than that. Still Toinette wondered. The two of them had been friends for many years.
The only real response either way was not to ask, to believe that he’d had nothing behind his words but what lay on the surface. Even with friends, Toinette had learned, it didn’t do to look too deeply.
“Right,” she said. “We’ll sort the men accordingly too.” If she could pretend that Erik was another of them, or just one more asset to be used where he’d do the most good, it would relieve her mind immensely—not to mention taking the strain off other parts.
* * *
Toinette took Raoul, Sence, and John up the cliff with her. Going with the new men was less strained than it might have been. She had far less of their previous behavior to look back on, and so far fewer changes, or possible changes, to raise questions in her mind.
They trooped up the steep path from the beach, walking two by two. None of them spoke. All kept their eyes open and their hands on their swords. Just before the outing, Toinette had taken her belt dagger and slashed the skirt of her blue gown up to her knees. If any of the men took it amiss, they hadn’t let her know by word or act—and most of the old hands had seen women in far less regardless. Her lower legs felt terribly exposed, but she’d be damned if she’d spend the whole journey tripping and getting caught on brambles out of modesty that was frankly laughable on her at any rate.
She’d also taken Gervase’s sword before they’d buried him. Again, it had been only practical—but it felt worse than the short skirt did.
The trail was white and rocky at the start. As they climbed farther up, they began having to push their way past brambles and duck under low-hanging branches. The plants pressed in on either side. They were a darker green than those Toinette had seen in Italy and elsewhere, more like those that had lined the Scottish hillside. She even made out the pale-pink flowers of herb Robert springing from the mass of green, along with darker pink blossoms she’d never seen before.
Shortly after they reached the top of the cliff, Raoul grunted in recognition and held up his hand. The party paused for him to bend and pull up a broad-leafed plant, wincing as he did so, and sniff at it. “Nettles, Captain,” he said. “We can eat them, if we boil them first—or even if we don’t, if we’re desperate enough.”
“I’ll feel a bit like a goat,” said John.
“You should always,” Sence told him, half in jest.
“If it wasn’t for sailing home,” Toinette put in, “I’d trade any of the lot of you for a good nanny in milk right now. But I’m glad to know of the nettles, Raoul. We’ll come back and get more later, when we’ve gloves and bags. Meantime, keep an eye out for anything else we can eat, all of you.”
“How much do you think we’ll need?” John asked. “That is, how long d’ye think we’ll be here?”
“No longer than we can help it, but I’ve no notion how long that’ll be.” She saw their faces as she spoke and half wished she could have brought herself to lie to them. “And we’ll have a journey ahead of us when we do go. Best have the stores as full as we can, no?”
With those more or less encouraging words, the best Toinette could do, they went on. An occasional rustling in the undergrowth suggested small animals or birds, but none broke from cover. Toinette tried not to think of roast partridge.
“We can get the bows from the ship and come back,” Sence said after the second time.
“Or set traps,” said Raoul.
“Both, likely,” said Toinette, “and if there are birds, we can find their nests.”
John chuckled. “I did that plenty as a boy. Was always running off from chores for it too, and getting my hide tanned as often as not. And now look at me.”
“Wouldn’t your tutor be surprised?” Raoul said.
“Old Father Henry? Oh, he always knew I’d come to no good.”
“We haven’t yet,” said Sence.
“Indeed,” said Toinette. “Think of the stories we can tell when we return.” She stopped and looked around, searching for the glint of light on water. Nothing met her eye, but she was hopeful. “The place couldn’t get this green on rain alone,” she said, half to herself. “We can dig a well, if we truly must.”
“Can you dowse?” Sence asked.
Toinette shook her head. If the magic for finding water did exist, it was a peasant’s art, like healing stock or taking off warts. Artair’s instruction to his kin, even his ward, had concerned loftier matters—or martial ones. It seemed rather a pity now.
“We’ll trust to Providence,” she said. “If we must.”
