When I emerged, cleaner and more awake, food was laid out on the table. Marcus stood next to the table, a small pitcher and bowl in his hands. He gestured and I sat on one of the stumps and eyed the groaning board. “Are you eating with me?”
“No.” Marcus frowned at me. “Hold out your hands.”
Puzzled, I held them out. He placed the bowl beneath them, and poured water over them, muttering some words I couldn’t hear. He nodded to a cloth on the table, and I dried my hands. Marcus seemed satisfied. “Hisself says you need to eat. Tuck in to this, now.”
Nothing looked familiar. The meat had been chopped up into small pieces. The bread was flat, but soft. There was no knife, or fork. I picked up a piece of the flat bread, and dipped it into the meat. I took a bite, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it tasted good. Marcus nodded, as I took a second bite. There were grains as well, and I found that more of the food made its way into me then I had thought possible.
Marcus poured a mug of kavage for me, setting down a small bowl of white pellets as well. “We’ve no sweetening for this just now.” I took the mug anyway, and dared a sip. It was better then what Rafe and the others had made. I eyed the white pellets, and reached out for one. It felt slightly soft, like a piece of dried whey. I popped it in my mouth, and bit down.
A horrible, bitter taste flooded my mouth.
Marcus had drifted away, moving around the tent as I ate, straightening as he went. Not that it was necessary, the sleeping area was very neat and plain in its furnishings. Too neat. There was no place to spit the stuff out. I screwed up my face and swallowed, followed by a long drink of kavage. Whatever that stuff was, it was awful.
Finally, I reached a point where I could eat no more. Marcus grunted and started to clear away the dishes. “Now, His-self says, rest and sleep. He will be back for the night meal.”
I nodded but really had no mind to go back to bed. “Marcus, do you know a Simus? He was one of the wounded—”
I did not have to finish. Marcus was nodding his head as he balanced the dishes in his arms. “Oh yes, that one is a snarling bear. Unhappy at everyone and everything.” He frowned. “How do you know Simus?”
“I treated him in the city.”
“Treated?” Marcus’s one eye glared. “You treated his wound?”
I nodded.
He sniffed. “A warrior-priest, you think you are?”
I stiffened. “I am a healer. I would like to see him.”
“Healer, eh?” He rolled his one eye. “Well…” he shrugged. “Gets you out from underfoot.” His eye focused fiercely. “You understand that you are to take nothing except from the Warlord’s hands? Nothing at all?” At my hesitant nod, he placed the dishes back on the table. “Come.”
Marcus took me outside. It was only then that I realized how big the tent was. It was divided up inside, to make the sleeping area and other rooms. This flap led to a bigger area that seemed like a large meeting room. Here too, wooden blocks and sections of trees were about, with pillows and a raised platform at the end of the room.
Marcus led me past that, and held open the tent flap for me to exit into the open. There were two guards standing at the entrance, and they acknowledged Marcus with a nod of their heads. I stepped out and got my first glimpse of the camp. Marcus didn’t follow.
We were on a slight rise, down in the valley below Water’s Fall. I swallowed when I saw its walls rising in the distance. From here, the camp spread out before us. There were tents everywhere, varying in size and placement, broken up with fire pits. There were horses everywhere, in clusters picketed near the shelters, and a herd that roamed the open expanse in the fields around the camp. Given its size, I could easily believe that the camp housed ten thousand men. It was huge, and seemed to stretch out all around us. It also seemed very quiet. “Where is everyone?”
Marcus grunted from inside the tent, and the two guards exchanged grins. “Sleeping off the celebration last night.” He pointed some ways off. “That is the tent of Simus.” He fixed me with that eye again, and I found myself taking a step back. “You go straight there, understand?”
I gulped, and nodded. He grunted again and folded his arms over his chest, making it clear that he intended to watch.
I moved off, walking on what appeared to be a beaten roadway. I had been a bit surprised when he said I could go, but now that I had seen the size of the camp, I understood. There would be no escape, even if that had been my intention.
The wide path between the tents had been beaten down by the passage of many horses. The shoes I had been given clomped through the bent grass. The sun was in and out of the clouds. Pennants snapped on the poles in front of various tents, of such bright colors that I had to stop and admire them. How did they get such bright colors? I wondered if they were decorative, or had other meanings. The pole in front of Simus’s shelter had quite a few, in a wide variety of colors and shapes. One look over my shoulder told me that Marcus was still watching me. I stopped before the closed flap, suddenly uncertain. Simus might welcome a healer, but what welcome would there be for a slave?
Before I had time to make a decision, the flap opened and Joden’s face appeared. It lit up when he recognized me. “I thought I heard someone out here. Come in, come in. No guards with you?” He stepped back, holding the flap open. “Simus, here’s someone new to listen to your grousing.” I ducked in and stood there blinking.
This tent was smaller than the one I had just left. There was a back area, but the front was kind of a sitting room with wooden blocks and pillows and a large brazier in the center that gave off a low heat. Simus was on a platform, propped up on pillows and covered with blankets. He glared at me as I came through the opening, but his face cleared when he recognized me. “Little healer!” He laughed, his white teeth flashing against his dark skin. “Welcome!”
I relaxed, and returned his smile. “Greetings, Simus. How are you?”
Simus gestured at Joden. “I am fine, but for this ox telling me that I cannot get out of this bed.” He glared at Joden, who returned the look. “Come, take a look, and tell me what you think.”
I knelt as Joden uncovered the wound and removed the bandage. I looked at the wound with a great deal of satisfaction. It was coming together nicely, and there was no sign of problems. “It looks well.” I started to put the bandage back in place, but Joden stopped me.
“Let me get clean ones, Warprize.” He moved to the back of the tent and disappeared behind the flap.
There was a cough outside the tent flap. “Come!” Simus called.
A large, blond man with a scraggy beard entered the tent. “Greetings, Simus.”
“Greetings, Iften.” Simus’s words were welcoming, but his face was reserved. I stayed where I was, daring a glance up at the big man. Not so tall as Simus, he was broad and strong, with big, rough hands. He glared down at me, then flicked his eyes to Simus’s leg. “A bad wound, Simus. Will you walk again?”
“If he is careful,” I answered. “And follows my advice.”
Iften stiffened, but did not respond. I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck, and they weren’t friendly. I didn’t move, staying still and silent for fear that slaves weren’t supposed to talk. I kept my eyes on Simus’s leg. Iften continued, ignoring me. “I wish words, Simus. This peace is madness.”
“Madness? Keir has won his victory, and achieved more than any had hoped.” Simus gestured toward me with his left hand. His right was buried in the blankets, and seemed curiously stiff. “You swore oaths to Keir, knowing his plans. Are you breaking them? Or perhaps you envy him his warprize, eh?”