Not that it would have done her any good if hehadbeen interested. There were no inns. There were no farmhouses. Consequently, there was no privacy.
They slept on the ground, in bedrolls. It was cold and the fire went out a lot because nobody was particularly good at banking it.
Brenner, entirely unconcerned about privacy, made a few quiet advances about ways to keep warm. Slate made a few quiet rebuffs, and finally suggested he go see if either of the other two were interested.
“Bah. I’m nothing if not open-minded—particularly in this weather—but the knight won’t be, and the priest really isn’t my type.”
“Servants of the Many-Armed God are sworn to celibacy anyway,” said Caliban, returning from gathering wood. Slate feltthe tips of her ears get hot and was glad that her complexion hid blushes. She wondered how much he’d heard.
Brenner, as usual, had no shame at all. “Aww. Guess that limits my options. What do you say, paladin?”
Caliban raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“What, afraid you can’t keep up with me?”
He shook his head. “I’d like to say that was the worst proposition I’ve ever received, but unfortunately, I’ve had worse.”
“Is that a yes?”
“No. Unless you can conjure up a hot bath. You don’twantto know what I’d do for a hot bath right now.”
“Well, I feel used…” muttered Brenner.
Slate patted his shoulder. “You’ll live.”
Celibate or not, Learned Edmund turned out to be the most useful of their companions. He had traveled alone, with his mules, for many days. He could tend to mules, read maps on horseback, find water, and do laundry on a rock.
Andhe could cook over an open fire, which was black magic as far as Slate was concerned.
He still had a hard time making eye contact with Slate, but as long as she ignored that, he was remarkably even-tempered. His earlier bitterness seemed to have passed off, and it was occasionally nice to talk to someone who did not have a sardonic comment for every occasion.
He still kept his bedroll as far away from hers as possible. He waited until she picked a spot for the night to even unload his mule. If she went down to the stream to sluice dirt off, he stayed in camp as if shackled to the fire.
Slate fought back an urge to ask how his bowels and genitalswere doing. Breaking the fragile peace wasn’t worth the brief satisfaction.
Brenner slipped away from the campsite one evening and returned a few hours later, whistling, with two rabbits slung over his shoulder.
“I didn’t know you could hunt,” said Caliban, impressed despite himself.
“Neither did I. Well, not animals, anyway.” Brenner dropped them in front of Learned Edmund. “Can you do anything with these?”
“Certainly.” The scholar eyed the two bodies thoughtfully. “I have a question for you, though.”
“Yes?”
“You clearly shot this one…”
“Yes?”
“The other one appears to have been hit with a knife.”
“I threw a dagger at it.”
“You hunted a rabbit with throwing knives,” said Caliban slowly.
“Was that strange?”
“It’s certainly novel,” the paladin admitted.
