Saark looked back to Nienna, and was surprised to find her glaring at him.
"Something the matter, little monkey?"
"I'm not your fucking little monkey," she snarled, and Saark lifted his hands, palms out, and shook his head a little, face confused. Nienna calmed, and gazed into the fire. Then she snapped back to Saark. "You enjoy touching her, did you?"
"You have nothing to worry about," said Saark. "You forget, easily, how this was the woman who stabbed a knife between my ribs. I do not forgive, nor forget. Not as easy as you, it would seem."
"Back then she was dying, she was a husk," snapped Nienna. "Now she is… pretty. Beautiful! Her skin glows. She is strong, and the picture of health. And you are both now…"
"Vachine?" Saark laughed. "I've yet to discover if that is a curse I will soon regret. Yes, it has healed me. Yes, my eyesight is a thousand times better, and I do not tire like once I did. But there is a price, I can feel it; there is always a price."
"Bite me," said Nienna.
"What?"
"Make me like you."
"No." Saark frowned. "This is madness. If Kell heard you speak thus…"
"What would he do? He's a grumpy old man. A fucking has-been. Bite me, Saark, then take me with you. When we get out of the mountains, we can flee together!"
"Whoa!" Saark leant back, and saw that Nienna's eyes were gleaming, almost with fever. Gently, he leaned towards her and put his hand on her knee. "What's going on inside your pretty head, Little One?"
"Stop treating me like a damn child!" she hissed. "You know what I want!"
Saark laughed easily. "Yes, I am predictable, am I not? But what you ask will get me killed. You know it, and I know it. If we are together, how long before Kell comes hunting us down? How long before sweet Ilanna cleaves through my skull? Where then your childish love?"
"Childish love? How dare you!"
"I dare much, little girl," said Saark, and smiled easily, eyes glowing. "If you simply want a quick session with your legs wide, any soldier in the barracks will accommodate you. I can arrange it, if you like. But if you want prime steak, if you want to feel Saark's superior touch and skill and expertise, well, you'll have to wait until you're a little older. I'm not the same as the perfumed absinthe drinkers in Vor who seek out little boys and girls for their fun. That is a practice I helped stamp out."
Nienna, with eyes wide, stood and stalked off, just as Myriam arrived and dumped a large coil of rope beside the fire. She sat, and looked at Saark. "You know I heard most of that?"
"I know."
"Do you think it'll work?"
"I hope so. Much as I'd like to taste her youthful sweetness, I'm sure the price would be too high." He glanced again at Kell. "Far too high."
"There is a price for everything in life," said Myriam, giving him a dazzling smile.
"I'd noticed," muttered Saark.
• • • •
They ate in a tired and weary silence, the gloom and cold getting to them despite their meagre fire. After three hours of grunting and hard work, stomping around in the shingle, Kell had finally fashioned a raft.
They stood, staring at the vessel, and Saark wore a frown like a deviated ballroom mask from the Black Plague Tribute, an illegal and anti-royal piece by one of Falanor's most twisted playwrights.
"So, what's that look mean, then?" said Kell, scowling.
"Nothing! Nothing. I mean, is it supposed to look like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like that. I mean, all twisted and uneven. I swear by all that's unholy, Kell, you're no bloody carpenter."
"I know I'm not a carpenter," snapped Kell. His eyes blazed with anger. "That's the whole damn point! This is a life and death situation; we must make do with what we have; work with our limited tools. Which means none. This is about escape, Saark, not pissing carpentry."
"Still." He pursed his lips. "She hardly looks seaworthy."
" She is not a bloody galleon," snarled Kell, hands on hips, his fury still rising.
"And I can bloody see that!" said Saark. "To be honest, I think I might take my chances with the soldiers and demons. If we try and ride the river on that thing, we are sure to die."
Kell stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. "Suit yourself. You coming, Myriam?"
"I'm coming," said Myriam, flashing Saark a weak smile. She grabbed one edge, and with Kell they dragged the makeshift raft down to the water's edge, where the water tugged eagerly.
Saark shuffled after them, and stopped, shifting from one foot to the other. "This is starting to feel like a military training camp," he muttered, as he watched Kell making last minute adjustments, pulling several of the binding ropes tight. The timber creaked in protest under Kell's exerted pressure.
"Meaning?"
"Well, we did all sorts of horse shit like this during training. Carry rocks and logs, build rafts, work as a team to get across the river, make stepping stones, swing from high trees, climb like monkeys up pointless walls of rock, run through the mountains, navigate blizzards, that sort of thing. Hah! What a chamber pot of rotting turds that whole thing turned out to be!"
"So, you've built a raft before?" Kell glanced up as he worked.
"Sort of."
"How can you 'sort of' build a raft? You either do or you don't."
"I directed their actions, like a good captain should."
"You mean you let others do the real graft, whilst you sat on your arse thinking about women?"
"Of course," smirked Saark, failing to grasp even the subtlest strand of sarcasm. "That's the way it should be. Royalty and people of breeding doing the commanding, whilst, ahem, no offence meant, but peasants work their fingers to the bone."
"So I'm a peasant, eh lad?" Kell straightened, and rubbed his hands on his jerkin. The skin of his hands was ingrained with dirt. His fingernails were mostly black from impacts during battle. His huge hands wore the hardy skin of sixty years of toil.
"Of course you are!" said Saark brightly. He grinned, and slapped Kell on the back. "But don't worry, old horse! I won't hold it against you! As you say, I've worked with worse tools."
Kell lifted Nienna onto the bobbing wooden raft, and then held out his hand for Myriam, who stepped lightly aboard. The raft bobbed. It looked far from safe. Kell glanced at Saark's beaming face, then stepped on himself. It took his weight, and he placed a hand on the low, makeshift tiller he'd fashioned from the lid of an old cherrywood chest. The raft began to drift from the shore.
"Hey, what about me?" snapped Saark, suddenly. His eyes went wide.
"Better jump for it, laddie."
"Hey, wait, I thought, I mean…"
"Didn't think you'd want to touch my dirty peasant's paws," grinned Kell. The gap was two feet distant now, and the current started to turn the raft. "Better be quick, when the current gets us you'll never make it."
Saark took a step back, and with an inelegant squawk, leapt for the raft. He hit the edge, and scrabbled for a moment, one leg sinking into the ice-chilled waters to the thigh. Then Myriam grabbed him, and hauled him onto the rough-lashed planks where he lay, gazing up, panting.
"You would have left me," he said.
"Don't be silly," smiled Kell.
"You would. I know you would."
"Well, maybe one day you'll learn your lesson," said Kell.
Saark pushed himself up. "And what lesson's that?"
"You never bite the hand that feeds."
The current caught the raft, and with a rapid acceleration they were slammed along the cavern and disappeared rapidly into a narrow, blackened tunnel. To Saark, it felt as though they were being sucked down into the Chaos Halls themselves…