She was too drained to be angry for long. She wanted to be furious and embarrassed but that would take energy and she had so little left to spare. It was dark under the tree, and very warm under the wet wool. She was either comfortable or too exhausted to feel physical discomfort.
The rain dragged on. They existed in a small, warm place outside of time. Slate dozed off with her hand clenched in an undyed tabard that was by now very much the worse for wear.
Knight-Champion Caliban—who had indeed been known to recognize hints, and who was clinging to what was left of his vows by will alone—leaned his head back against the damp wood of the tree stump and waited for the rain to pass.
CHAPTER 12
“WELL,”SAIDBRENNER, in a voice that could have etched glass, “isn’t thiscozy.”
Slate pried her eyelids open. They felt dry and itchy. She was in somebody’s arms, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Brenner’s? It’d been his voice, and it wouldn’t be the first time, but she didn’t recall him being so sarcastic afterwards. Usually he just wanted to get breakfast.
It appeared to be early evening, and the rain had passed off. The world swam into focus, revealing pine needles, dirt, someone’s arm, Brenner, the Learned Edmund, two horses and three mules, in that order.
Brenner looked furious, and wasn’t hiding it well. Learned Edmund looked appalled. The horses looked like horses, and the mules looked bored.
By process of elimination, therefore, the arm I am using as a pillow belongs to…
Ah. Yes.
She sat up. Former Knight-Champion etc. Caliban lifted his arm politely to release her and got to his feet, scrubbing at his eyes.
Okay. We’ve both got all our clothes on. I didn’t do anything stupid.
Not for lack of wanting.
Still, it’s good. It’s a good thing. The last thing I need is Brenner getting jealous, or any more complications on this bloody death march anyway.
It might be too late on the first count. Brenner was watching Caliban with death in his eyes, possibly wondering if he could get a knife into the knight before anyone moved.
Learned Edmund was also watching Caliban with something like pity. Had his bowels turned to water and his genitals withered already? Was it a gradual process?
Slate stood up, slapping bark dust off her clothes. She felt cold. The paladin’s body had been very warm, with the cloak over them both like a blanket.
This was a line of thought that did not bear pursuing. “How did you find us?” she asked.
“The horses,” said Learned Edmund, not meeting her eyes rather more obviously than usual. “When we got close, they whinnied to each other. We just followed them.”
“Ah. Didn’t hear it. Must have been more tired than I thought.”
Learned Edmund stared at the ground. Brenner’s stare grew even more lethal. Slate replayed the last statement in her head and winced internally.
Still, there were bigger concerns than the priest’s assumptions or Brenner’s petty jealousies. One big, serious, pressing concern.
“So!” said Slate. “What’s for dinner?”
Learned Edmund was setting up camp. Brenner was starting a fire. Slate went to go help unload the horses, grabbed a pack,turned around, and found herself nose to nose with Knight-Champion Caliban.
They looked at each other. It became uncomfortable very quickly. He dropped his eyes first.
Slate felt her face get hot. She was blushing hard enough that not even her dark complexion could save her.
What am I embarrassed about? Crying? That’s nothing, lots of people cry.
That I offered, and he didn’t want anything I had to offer?
No. I didn’t say anything. Nothing that’d stand up in court.
Caliban cleared his throat.
