Vanya arched an eyebrow. “Not if the House of Kimathi was the one who poisoned me.”
Soren rubbed at his forehead above the leather edge of his brass goggles. He wanted to be nowhere near that political headache, but he was already committed. “I don’t trust my reflexes to keep you alive on the plains for a night ride after days of no sleep. If you won’t contact anyone, then we’re staying here for the night.”
“I’m capable of looking after myself.”
Soren bit his tongue so he wouldn’t say something exceedingly rude. The wardens’ governor would be thoroughly displeased if the House of Sa’Liandel sent a complaint about his attitude after this whole mess.
“Against revenants?” Soren asked.
“There’s been none on the road.”
“That’s not to say they aren’t out there. I found a bog where one shouldn’t be, remember?”
His samples were still carefully stored away, along with his map. Vanya had seemed interested in them during the time they’d camped out for a few hours during daylight hours yesterday so the prince could get some rest. Soren had stood guard, passing time by going through his logbook.
“The wardens will be well compensated for your actions. I’ll ensure my mother provides aid for whoever is sent to cleanse that section of land.” Vanya shifted on the velocycle, mouth twitching as if he wanted to grimace but was forcing himself not to. “That still doesn’t absolve me of the debt I owe you.”
“Wardens don’t hold debts. We guard the borders. We keep the edges. No country owes us anything but tithes for that,” Soren reminded him.
“When we reach Bellingham, we’ll settle this.” He pointed at the seat in front of him, staring at Soren. “Let’s go.”
Vanya spoke with an arrogant authority that told Soren the prince was not used to being disobeyed. His people might be forced to follow his orders, but Soren was a warden. He did as he liked, when he liked, bound by nothing but the Poison Accords.
“The way station sells jerky. I’m getting some.”
Soren turned on his heels, heading back to the small shop inside the way station, feeling Vanya’s gaze boring into his back with every step he took. His store of jerky and hard brown crackers was low, since it was really the only safe food he was willing to let Vanya eat on the road.
The middle-aged clerk looked up from the book he was reading at the counter that doubled as an administrative desk. “Back already, warden?”
Soren picked up a couple of parchment-wrapped packages of jerky from a basket on the shelf and set them on the counter. “Forgot these.”
“That’ll be a fiver.”
Soren dug out the aurons, passing over a crumpled note and taking the jerky with him. “How’s business been?”
The clerk snorted, lifting his mug of chai to his mouth. The brimless, rounded cap he wore was neatly embroidered around the edge with plain black thread depicting the six star god constellations. Perhaps it was the drink that made him more amenable to conversation this time. “You missed all the excitement by a few days. Apparently a train got derailed south of here. A convoy of Legion engineers passed by on their way to clear the tracks. Didn’t stop for any fuel, though.”
“Shame.”
They’d missed that convoy. He wondered if the group had passed by when they’d been camped out away from the road during the day. He didn’t know how long it would take to clear the tracks, but he hadn’t seen or heard any trains since the derailment.
Soren gathered his jerky and waved goodbye to the clerk, heading back outside where Vanya waited.
“I got you dinner,” Soren said once he was within earshot.
Vanya sighed. “Your idea of food leaves something to be desired.”
Soren shoved the jerky into the compartment behind Vanya and locked the lid in place. “You’re not in any position to be picky.”
“When we get to Bellingham, I’m going to have a feast thrown in your honor so you know exactly what you’ve been missing all these years.”
“Rude.”
Vanya cracked a smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called that to my face before.”
“First time for everything.”
Soren did a cursory check of his velocycle’s tires before straightening up. He was about to sling his leg over the seat when movement down the road caught his attention. The road they’d been driving down that passed the way station had been empty all the way to the horizon when they arrived. Now, two shadowy figures were making their way toward the way station, stumbling in a manner that made the hair on the back of Soren’s neck stand on end.
