Again, he didn’t flinch.
When she’d finished with that, she wrapped his shoulder as best she could and helped him get his shirt back on. He let her.
Mercedes stood up suddenly, seeming uncomfortable. “We can’t pay you anything.”
So weary by now that she was having trouble staying on her feet, Céline leaned on the table. “We didn’t come for payment.” Then something occurred to her. “Oh . . . there is one thing, perhaps a favor you might help us with.”
Mercedes’s entire body went rigid. “A favor?”
“Yes, we had to pack light for the journey, and Amelie and I were only allowed one extra wool dress for day wear. We nearly ruined the ones we wore on the journey here. I have blood on mine from tending to an injured soldier. How can we get them laundered here? Could you allow us to use your washtub and clothesline?”
Mercedes’s expression turned incredulous, and then she barked out a single laugh. “That’s your favor? Help with washing a few gowns?” She shook her head. “You bring them to me, and I’ll launder them myself. I can get blood out of wool.”
“Thank you.”
Still sitting on the bench, Marcus was watching Céline with his black eyes, as if trying to figure her out. She put on her cloak and gathered up the box of supplies as Amelie moved to join her.
“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Céline said, hoping she sounded businesslike. “Marcus, don’t take off those bandages, even if the wounds itch.”
Mariah made room in the doorway, and Céline headed out, nearly tripping on the stairs from exhaustion. The sun dipped low. Was it only that morning that she had waved good-bye to Corporal Bazin and the other soldiers from Sèone and then followed Jaromir into this encampment? It felt as if whole days had passed.
Jaromir was waiting for them near the path up ahead, but as Amelie walked beside her, Céline whispered, “What do you think of those three back there in the wagon?”
“I think someone in their family has a penchant for names starting with the letter M.”
This attempt at humor was so unexpected that Céline couldn’t help the corners of her mouth turning up. Amelie could almost always make her smile.
“In truth,” Amelie added, “I think Mercedes is angry, but she lets it out. Marcus and Mariah are holding in a lot of hatred.”
That was Céline’s assessment as well.
“Marcus and some of the Móndyalítko men must have signed contracts with Keegan,” she said. “Horses to pull the wagons or not, I can’t think of any other reason why they’d stay here . . . and Marcus hates the soldiers.”
“Yes, but how much does he hate them?”
How much indeed?
Jaromir came walking to meet them. “You look done in.”
“You’ve no idea,” Céline answered. “Can we go to our tent and rest for a while?”
“Of course.” He took the box from her and led the way down the path back toward the soldiers’ camp.
“Did you learn anything from the men?” she asked.
“Not a lot, only that there have been three attacks by these . . . wolves during the day, inside the mines themselves. The miners are refusing to work at all now, and Keegan’s soldiers won’t let them leave but also won’t enforce any work because that would mean the soldiers would have to enter to mines themselves to oversee, and they’re just as afraid of being trapped or caught down there.”
Céline absorbed this. “I think you learned quite a bit. If someone is doing this on purpose—infecting the soldiers, I mean—it almost sounds like they are trying to shut down work in the mines.”
The path emptied into the Pählen encampment.
As the collection of tents came into view, Céline heard raised voices. Turning, she saw that Captain Keegan was out among his men. In fact . . . he was shouting at five of them. She recognized three of the soldiers from earlier in the day, the rotund Guardsman Saunders, the skittish young Graham, and the tall, semi-toothless Ramsey. She’d not met the other two.
“We have guests here from the court of Sèone!” Keegan shouted. “Sent at the request of our prince! And you’re all wandering around out here with no one placed at his designated post. You’re all filthy, and you look a disgrace. I won’t have it! You’ll clean yourselves up and act like soldiers or I’ll have you on night watch in that gypsy camp. Do you hear me?”
Had Jaromir ever given his men such a speech, they would have been groveling. He rarely made threats—as he rarely needed to—but a threat from Jaromir was taken seriously.
Céline expected the soldiers to bow and scrape and express a chorus of “Yes, sirs.”
They did not.
Ramsey glared at the captain in thinly veiled hostility and spoke so softly that Céline had to read his lips, but it seemed that he said, “I’ll not take orders from a man who can’t pay his own debts.”
Captain Keegan went stiff. “What did you say?”
No one answered for a moment, and then Ramsey mumbled, “Nothing.”
“Get to your posts,” Keegan ordered.
The men shuffled away, but Céline was somewhat shaken. She’d never seen anything like that. Even back in Shetâna, the chain of command was unquestioned and soldiers followed the orders of a superior officer.
Discipline was breaking down here . . . and these men would need discipline if they hoped to organize themselves and survive.
However, as she, Amelie, and Jaromir walked up, they pretended not to have witnessed the scene.
“Good evening, Captain,” she said.
He turned and saw her approaching. “My lady, I was coming in search of you.”
“Yes, we were detained in the miners’ encampment.”
He frowned. “All afternoon?” But then he offered Amelie a polite bow of his head. “I’ve had a small dinner prepared, to be served in my tent. Could you be ready in an hour?”
Céline wanted to groan. She wanted her bed. The last thing she wanted to do was put on an evening gown and sit at a table making polite conversation. But they were here for a reason, and she glanced at Jaromir. He nodded once.
“Of course,” she said. “We’d be honored.” As she started to walk away, something occurred to her, and she was uncertain of the protocol. Amelie had stressed that as the ranking commander, he was in charge of everyone here. Did she need his permission to conduct any readings? “Captain . . . per our inquiry, I would like to do a reading of a young woman named Mariah and a man called Marcus. Do I have your permission?”
His frown deepened. “Mariah? Why?”
By way of answer, she looked him up and down, as would any haughty lady of Anton’s court.
He glanced away, embarrassed. “Yes, do as you see fit.”
Chapter Five
Though Céline was still feeling weary as she entered Captain Keegan’s tent that night, she was aware enough to be somewhat unsettled by the state of her gown. At Jaromir’s request, Helga had packed for the two sisters, including two fine dresses from the castle—which had probably once belonged to Anton’s aunt. Both gowns were silk. Amelie wore a seafoam green, and Céline’s was a dark shade of pink. But . . . even though both garments had been carefully folded, they’d still been jostled about for days inside a bag. Céline wished a travel chest had been used instead, but she supposed that Jaromir felt bags would be easier to tie onto the back of a horse if necessary.
As a result, no matter how she’d tried to smooth both gowns, there were creases in the skirts, and as there was no way the delicate slippers Helga had packed would have survived the walk to Keegan’s tent, both sisters ended up wearing their boots. Somehow, this combination made Céline feel less like a lady of court.