“Could have.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.” Amused. “Is that what you want? To die?”
Had she asked him that earlier, he would have said no.
And now?
No, reeking gods,no. It was the dream that made him hesitate. Venick swallowed hard and forced himself to say it aloud. “I want to live.”
“You have been sick,” Ellina said. “You still are.”
“I am better.”
“Better, but notwell. You would be were we in Evov and I had proper supplies. But.” She didn’t shrug. That was too human.
“You areeondghi. A healer,” he said, and made sure to fumble the word.
“It is pronouncedeh-nod-gee. And no, I am not. I amjoiujon. A soldier.” Which meant whatever she’d done to his foot, she’d learned from the legion. Venick glanced at her armor—light, leather—and then at her face. She was young, he thought, for an elven soldier.
“And the others?”
“Alsojoiujon. Say it back to me.” He did. “They are part of my troop.”
“And where are they now?”
“Ahead. We will have to catch up.”
Ah. Well. That was unlikely, given the speed at which elves traveled and the state of his foot. Venick knew this, andshecertainly did, and so: “That’s not your true plan. Catching up.”
“Oh?”
“You’re glad to stay back. You have something else in mind.”
“Like keeping you alive?” There was no humor in her voice now. Just that steady-eyed stare, the slight lift of her chin. Venick looked away. Down at his hands, which were empty, then out into the rain.
Thank you, Venick. That so hard to say?
Yes, it was. She’d saved his life—what was it? Twice? Three times? Elves didn’t deal in life prices, but there was no doubting Venick’s belonged to her anyway. And yet, Venick wasn’t sure what to feel.
Grateful. Think of that?
Onlygratefuldidn’t explain the unease that clamped his heart, or the suspicion. The journey from here to Tarrith-Mour would take a fortnight, maybe less. It was not enough time to learn a language, and certainly notelvish. He should know. He’d done it once already. Theirs was a language built not just on words but on intent. Words meant themselves and also their opposites, questions could be commands. The language was frustrating and confusing andpoetic, gods help him. Venick always thought that the only way anyone said what they meant in elvish was because lying was impossible. He thought of his own lies.
They saved your life.
Maybe. Maybe just prolonged it. Elves weren’t stupid. Ellina would have already rummaged through his meager belongings—threadbare pack, flint, an empty flask—and guessed that he was not truly a courier for the queen. That he was not a spy, either, as she had suspected. It was true that humans sometimes became involved in elven affairs, but not lone humans, unarmed and half-starved and looking more lost than anything. And yet, instead of leaving him to die Ellina had stayed.
He wondered what reason she would give for that, if asked in her language and not his.
“We have camped here too long,” Ellina said. “It is not safe anymore. We will need to move.”
“Soon?”
Her eyes slid sidelong out the cavern’s mouth. “Tonight.”
“Ah.”
