It was a surly group that made camp that night. Caliban was either still grim over not having killed the bandits, or still feeling guilty over not having been there to defend them from the bandits in the first place. Learned Edmund had finally snapped and yelled at Brenner, who’d yelled back, until Slate had yelled at both of them.
They all sat around the fire, nursing mugs of tea and their respective grievances.
“How far do you think it is to Anuket City?” asked Learned Edmund finally.
Slate shook her head. “There’s no way to tell. We don’t know where we joined up to the smuggler’s road, and it’s not really marked on the maps. At a guess—probably a week or more to Archenhold. That’ll be the first sort of civilization we’ll reach.”
“Gonna be a long week,” muttered Brenner, sliding a glance at Caliban through hooded eyes.
“Indeed,” said Caliban, returning the assassin’s glance with a steely one of his own.
Slate put her head in her hands and entertained a brief fantasy of leaving them all to rot, going back down the road and finding that bandit leader and seeing if he wanted to get nice and drunk together.
Her tattoo twinged. Apparently it had no concept of daydreaming. She slapped at it irritably.
When she looked up again, Caliban was watching her. She met his eyes squarely—Yes, I might have been thinking something that jeopardized the mission. Want to make something of it?
He looked away instead.
Slate sighed and figured she’d throw her guard dog a bone. “Archenhold’s not really allied with Anuket. I mean, theyare, but they like to pretend they’re a sovereign nation. We can send word back to the Captain once we get there, if you’re that worried that he’ll think we’re dead.”
Caliban nodded, still not meeting her eyes.
When they went to sleep that night, her last sight was Caliban sitting up still, running a whetstone down the length of his sword, although whether he was watching her or watchingoverher was anybody’s guess.
CHAPTER 11
THEY KEPT TRAVELING.
There are practical considerations that arise when four people live in close proximity for very long. All the little questions need answers, like who did the dishes and who got the firewood and whether they could spend a morning beating clothes against a rock before they set out, because nobody owned anything clean to their names.
They dealt with it in their own ways. Brenner griped. Caliban brooded. Learned Edmund prayed.
Slate contemplated their approaching deaths with an increasingly unhealthy relief.
There was also another consideration.
There are only so many bushes in any given stretch of forest, and Slate’s bladder wasn’t helped by the pounding her nether regions took on horseback daily. She was starting to think that you could judge a man’s character by how he reacted if he tripped over you attending to a call of nature.
Brenner would grin like a shark and saunter off, whistling. Caliban would say, “Excuse me,” turn around, and walk off inthe other direction. Learned Edmund would turn six shades of scarlet, gabble out something, trace a hurried sign of protection and fall over himself while retreating.
Likewise, there was the matter of changing. Sooner or later you had to put a different shirt on, and no one ever stayed out of the campsite for nearly long enough.
Brenner would watch and offer commentary. Caliban would turn his back politely and stand with his hands clasped behind him, and would even act as a lookout in case Learned Edmund wandered by, since the priest would again turn scarlet, make another sign of protection, and fall over—and that was only amusing the first couple of times.
Slate wondered occasionally if this would be any easier if there was another woman in their motley band, or if it would just make for twice as many unfortunate encounters. It would have been nice to have someone to lock eyes with and sigh occasionally. Slate considered herself enlightened, but there were still times when she wanted to throw her hands in the air and scream,“Men!”and then stomp off and kick something.
She did not do this, mostly because it would have confirmed all of Learned Edmund’s fears. It was a near thing, though.
She was dead certain they got into belching contests when she was away from the campsite. She wasn’t sure if she was grateful they were sparing her, or irritated that she wasn’t invited.
Oh, well. Just a few more miles to Anuket City, and then it’ll all be moot anyway…
They were half a week out of Anuket City when the storm hit.
The first raindrops weren’t much, but they fell from a sky that boiled like lead between the leaves.
Caliban drew his horse up, and the rest of them followed suit.
