Andros just raised an eyebrow. “The Sacrati. All of us.” He glanced toward his group, then turned back to Finnvid. “But leave Theos alone. He’s wound too tight right now. No room for extra aggravation.”
“He appears happy enough,” Finnvid said as Theos laughed at whatever the shepherdess was saying.
“It’s an act.” Andros’s eyes were downcast. “When Theos really laughs, it’s practically silent. Just a little huff of breath and a smile. This . . . this is for show.”
Finnvid stared at the man next to him. There’d been something about the way he spoke . . . “You love him.” The words should seem absurd when talking about one man’s feelings for another, but somehow they weren’t.
Andros looked away quickly. “Of course. He’s my brother.”
“No, not like that. Not because you’re both Sacrati. He’s special to you—” Suddenly, Andros’s expression made Finnvid realize it might be cruel to continue. “Listen to me, pretending to know about these things!” He made his smile bright. “So, the tents are suitable for tonight. And as they’re already constructed we’ll leave them, I think. But tomorrow the men and I will learn to den up.”
Andros nodded, clearly relieved to be back to business. “Good. And you’ll keep the idiots from killing each other, or from getting any of us killed because they’re too busy arguing to do their jobs.” He stopped for a second, then grinned a little as he added, “And you’ll keep your men away from Apala, and you’ll keep yourself away from Theos. You’ll learn to sleep while buried in a snowbank, and by the sword, we’ll have you eating cakes before this trip is over. You’ll keep up with the trained soldiers on a winter march, and you’ll let your second do his job without letting him take over yours. And while you’re at it, maybe you could compose a nice song for us to sing as we walk, and make some crafts out of fallen pine cones and bits of bear dung. I’ll teach you sword fighting in the morning breaks, and help you with hand-to-hand combat after dinner.” He glanced at the fire, then quickly back at Finnvid. “Did I mention that you should prepare the dinner, then serve it and clean up as well?”
It felt good. That little bit of acknowledgment, just knowing that someonesawthe challenges Finnvid was facing. “I’ll see what I can do,” Finnvid said lightly.
Andros clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll do well.” Then he left, going back to the easy comradeship of the Sacrati fire while Finnvid stared at his tent, and realized that the walls he’d thought would protect him were worth nothing at all.
Chapter Seventeen
Despite his frustrations, Finnvid slept well that night, and woke the next day ready for walking. Which was a good thing, because that was all they did. Even taking the lower route there were hills to climb and descend and a lot of snow to fight through, and though he hiked in the middle of the pack with the Torians breaking the trail ahead of him, his thighs were trembling by the time they stopped for a midday rest. The day before had been the warm-up, but now the Torians were in marching mode, and they were tireless.
Finnvid knew Andros was watching him and the other Elkati, and felt a flash of hope when he saw the Sacrati speak quietly to his patrol leader. He was too proud to admit his weakness, but not too proud to have someone else point it out.
He tried not to look pathetic when Andros came over to him after the conversation. “Stretch,” the Sacrati said gently. “Any time we stop for a break, make sure you keep moving at least a little. And stretch your muscles out. Otherwise they’ll freeze up and you’ll have trouble starting again.”
That wasn’t quite the news Finnvid had been wishing for, and as soon as he realized it, he felt ashamed. This whole trip had been his idea. No one had forced him to walk home in the wintertime, and no one had told him it would be easy. It was his second day on the trail and he was already wishing they could take more breaks? Spend more time in the wilderness, where a blizzard could strike at any moment?
“Thank you,” he said to Andros. “And . . . do you have any ideas for eating the cakes? I just . . . the texture . . .”
“Start small,” Andros said easily. “And eat them with something else. You’ve got dried fruit, right? A nibble of cake with a chunk of apple to begin with, and then gradually start eating more cake, less apple.” He grinned. “I’ve been eating them since I was a kid, so I’ve never had a problem. But when we get new recruits from outside the Empire, that’s what they do.”
“Thank you,” Finnvid said again. He wondered how many kindnesses this man had already shown him, and how many more were to come. “Andros,” he said slowly. It might be a mistake, but he needed to be honest. “The snakebite . . . when I . . . you know . . .”
“When you saved my life?”
“Well . . . about that.” He was too far in to quit. “I just— I didn’t have a treatment for the snakebite. Theos threatened to kill my men if I didn’t cure you, but . . . I didn’t know what I was doing. I just . . . I mean, I treated the symptoms. I wasn’t just feeding you bitter water. But, you know, in terms of an actualcure. . .”
There wasn’t even a tense moment. Andros had started smiling partway through Finnvid’s stammered explanation, and by the end he had thrown his head back and was laughing. “You didn’t save my life! I’m too tough to die!”
“I may havehelped. Maybe.”
Andros looked over toward Theos and his expression darkened a little. “I wish I could tell him. But the mood he’s in, it’d be one more example of Elkati trickery.” He sighed. “And probably a sign of my deceptiveness, too, daring to recover just to give you a better story.”
“I’m sorry,” Finnvid said. Not only for pretending to be a better healer than he was, but for everything going on between Andros and Theos, for the tension between the Sacrati and the other Torian soldiers . . . for all of it. For the disruption of his presence in their lives. Then he thought about the disruption to Elkati lives if something hadn’t been done to keep the Torians away, and he stopped feeling guilty in favor of being confused. Nothing was as simple as it had seemed months earlier when his brother had sent him on a mission to meet with the warlord of the barbarian invaders.
“I may need more breaks,” he said, surprising himself with the confession. “I’ll work as hard as I can, I promise. But . . . I’m not as fit as you are. Not even as fit as the other Elkati.”
“I’m going to take most of your pack,” Andros said as if it had already been decided. “We can leave the tents behind, with your permission. And I’ll distribute the rest of the weight among the Torians. We’ll take some of your men’s gear too. I can tell the Torians it’s training. Or maybe turn it into a contest between the Sacrati and the others, to see who can carry more.”
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“It would break our Torian hearts if you were able to keep up. You’ll be doing us a service if you allow us to continue feeling superior.”
Finnvid let himself agree, and as the day dragged on, he was glad of it. The Torians grumbled but didn’t actually seem too put out, and the Elkati were sufficiently tired to swallow their pride and accept the help. Even with his lighter pack, by the time the sun was low enough for Finnvid to feel justified in suggesting they stop for the night, he could barely feel his legs. He carefully stretched his muscles, but knew he’d be sore the next day.
The Sacrati dropped their packs and then disappeared into the forest again. He’d asked about it the night before and been told they were setting snares; that morning, the Sacrati had gone out to retrieve their prizes, then gutted and skinned the captured animals. Now, as the Sacrati returned from the forest, they pulled half-frozen meat from the outside of their packs and set it to cooking on the fires.
Finnvid watched cautiously as the shepherdess approached the Elkati fire, a skinned rabbit in her hands. “We have extra,” she said, “if you’d like a share.”
