He could manage without the scrolls.It would not be easy,of course, but, at the same time, he had already exhausted most of his supply,anyway.The wyrms had seen to that.For now, he wouldhave to hope that he had enough rations to make up for the added exertion.
He would just have to be careful.
As he continued to eat, he could feel Zaria watching himfrom the side.He almost didn’t care.In fact, as he chewed through anotherstrip of meat, Isaac’s thoughts drifted away from his present circumstancesentirely.He thought of food.Namely, he thought of the food he no longer had.He remembered meals taken in the library.He pictured warm bread, hearty stews,chicken and fish, garlic and cloves and butter.He remembered how, sometimes,his uncle would join him in breaking his fast, bringing fresh milk and eggsfrom the college larder.It was one of the few times Isaac had ever felt like anephew, rather than a disciple.
He stopped his chewing when he noticed movement.
Zaria was unwrapping her shawl, pulling it straight over herhead.For a moment, her face was obscured, and he could see her chest.Hersleeveless vest was crossed by the few straps of her leather armor.Her spottedfur poked up through the collar’s laces.Her arms were corded with muscle.Shefilled out the undershirt with a widely curving back, likely attained from alife spent swabbing decks, slinging rope, and hauling crates.
There was blood on her chest.It was fresh.He could trackthe spots where they had tortured her, just by the weeping.They must bepainful.
As he looked, he saw plenty of scars.
Her breasts—
“Does my squire wish something of his knight?”
Isaac jerked his head, like he was dodging a cane.
Slowly, Zaria adjusted the piece of torn cloth acting as herbrassiere, her eyes never leaving him.“Don’t think I haven’t noticed yourpeeks, young lad.”
“Just ...curious about your scars.”
“Got a funny way of showin’ it.”
“I don’t mean to pry.”
She leaned back against her poleaxe.“I’m an open book,Isaac.Don’t you like to read?”
He ignored the remark.“How long should we rest?”
There was a pause behind him.He kept his gaze averted.Hewasn’t entirely sure how much of the heat on his face was blush or sunburn.
“Actually,” she said, “I think we should make camp.”Thearea around them was a roughly square courtyard of dunes, like a naturalcaldera of sand.The walls were high and tall.“We’re fairly sheltered.Ireckon it’s close enough to the tomb to scare any but the bravest sort frompursuit, and that’s if they find our tracks at all.”There was another pause,as if the idea was gaining traction.“It’s like to be twilight soon.What doyou say we slumber now, awake before dawn, and march to danger and fortune bymoonlight?”
Isaac made himself look at her.“Are you actually asking myopinion?”
“If it agrees with mine, sure.”
“Well, it does.But I’ll try not to do it again.”
With his hunger mostly sated, Isaac reached into his packand pulled out a few phylacteries, along with a mortar and pestle.He mixed afew ingredients—chamomile, rosehips, yarrow—and ground them together until thepoultice was a pale, even yellow.After adding a tiny amount of water, heallowed the liniment to settle, and shortly after began to rub the solutiononto his burns and scrapes.
Through it all, he could feel Zaria watching him.She hadstarted on her own rations, which involved loudlyripping into a hunk of salt meat.The sound was very distracting.As Isaacnursed his reddened skin, facts from his encyclopedias rose into his mind.Hyenas had one of the strongest bites of all zoanthropes.They could easilyshatter bone.The large carnassials at the back of their jaw provided leverage,while the front canines both gored and crushed.Mostof all, he could remember the killing power he had felt as they clamped aroundhis throat—
“Squire,” Zaria said.
Isaac nearly dropped his mortar.
“Entertain your knight.She grows weary from travel.”
Isaac continued to rub his burns, focusing on the welt abovehis brow.“Well, if she’s feeling troubled, maybe she should change herdirection?Perhaps she should turn away?March from the tomb?Seek lighterburdens?”
She continued to chew her meat.“Is that cowardice I’mhearing?”
“Clearly, it’s only concern for you.”
“Well,” Zaria said, “don’t you fret about me, good lad.I’vewon more battles than a dwarf climbing stairs.I’ll keep my squire safe.”
