Theos nodded. He looked at the Elkati and said, “Tomorrow? We’ll carry him down?” and went through the whole ridiculous series of pantomimes.
The boy nodded cautiously.
So the decision was made. Theos spent what light was left finding two strong sticks, and then went out to take Xeno’s sentry post, leaving Xeno free to sleep in the camp with Andros. They all woke the next morning and shook the fallen snow from their blankets and ate a quick breakfast of dried fruit. Then they strung blankets between the long sticks, rolled Andros on board, and started moving.
Even with two teams of Sacrati to take turns carrying their injured comrade, travel was slow. By midmorning, Andros was breathing in ragged gasps, and Theos reluctantly ordered a break. He waved the prisoner over to tend his patient, and stood watching with a careful eye.
“I’m surprised the boy can think with you making that face at him,” Xeno said as he gently lifted Andros’s head to allow sips of water from his waterskin.
“Does heneedto think? He’s not doing much.”
“Maybe he’s trying tothinkabout what to do.” Xeno looked up at Theos and said, “He was good, Theos. When Andros was at his worst? Finnvid was good. He knew what he was doing. He saved Andros’s life.”
“Not yet he hasn’t.”
Xeno scowled at him but didn’t reply, and Theos stamped away to the far side of the trail. He hated feeling useless, hated facing a challenge that couldn’t be met with strength or courage or cunning. Everything in him cried for action, and everything outside him told him to be patient. He preferred to trust his insides.
So he built a fire, filled a cookpot with snow, and added dried meat and vegetables until he had a passable stew. There was enough for all of them, and he put a little in a bowl and carried it over to where Andros was lying.
“Can he eat?” he asked Finnvid, showing him the bowl.
The Elkati shook his head at the food, then at Theos, and pushed the bowl away impatiently.
Theos turned to Xeno. “Has he not eaten? In this whole time, he’s not been eating?”
“He’s had broth,” Xeno said.
“No wonder he’s so pale; he’s starving to death!”
“Finnvid knows what he’s doing.”
“Starving someone to death?” Theos frowned at the prisoner. “Why?” He mimed feeding the stew to Andros and then made a questioning face. If Andros ate, what would happen?
Finnvid made a puking sound and lifted his hands to show imaginary food pouring out of his mouth.
Theos held his fingers close together. “We’d just give him a little bit, not a feast!”
Finnvid shook his head stubbornly, his expression almost scornful.
Theos huffed and rose to his feet. He had no idea whether to trust the boy’s knowledgeorhis intentions, but he absolutely didn’t like his attitude. “The prisoner eats what Andros eats,” he declared. “No different, no more. If Andros can survive on sips of broth, then so will the Elkati.”
Xeno seemed as if he wanted to argue, but then looked at Andros’s drawn face and nodded.
“Tell me when you think he’s ready to move, Xeno.” Theos stepped away, then added, “Whenyouthink so. Not when the precious Elkati gives his permission.”
Another grudging nod, and Theos turned back to the fire and added food to the bowl before sitting down to eat it. When he was finished, he checked his equipment and did some basic exercises, enough to maintain his flexibility and balance without draining strength he might need. And then he waited. Not entirely patiently.
By early afternoon, Xeno and Andros decided they could manage a little more traveling, so Theos grabbed an end of the stretcher, happy to be doing something. Again their progress was slow, and again they only made it a few hours before Andros was clearly in too much pain to continue, but at least they’d made some progress. They stopped at one of the most-used campsites on the route, a grassy clearing next to a cold, burbling stream, and Theos sent Achus fishing while Elios stood watch and Xeno helped settle Andros. By the time Theos had the fire set up and their blankets hung to air and be warmed by the flames, there were four fat trout waiting to be grilled. Four. Good. One for each of the people eating, and he’d boil up the skin and bones to make a broth for the two who weren’t.
The fish smelled delicious as it cooked, and Theos found himself anticipating the Elkati’s reaction when he was denied a taste. Petty, maybe, but there was something about the boy that just grated. His quiet self-confidence was frustrating.
And it was even more annoying when Theos doled out the cooked fish and the Elkati didn’t even look in his direction. As if he’d known he wouldn’t be getting any. As if he’d known . . .
“Xeno?” Theos said. “Andros is healing, right? The Elkati isn’t reallydoinganything anymore? Just starving him and fussing over him? No real medicine?”
Xeno frowned. “Well . . . he’s still using his potions . . .”
“But you’ve been watching? You know which ones to use?” Theos rose easily to his feet, his trout half-finished on the ground. He stalked toward Andros and the prisoner. “I’ve put up with enough from him. He’s the enemy, he’s already been part of an escape attempt, and I don’t trust him when I close my eyes to sleep. I’m going to kill him now. My dagger right through his spine.”
