'Mancy? Oh, Emancipor Reese. Where's the cat, by the way?'
Buke barked a laugh. 'Ran off — just like all our horses and we had an even dozen of them after those stupid bandits attacked us. Ran off, once I'd done prying its claws from Mancy's back, which was where it jumped when all the warrens broke loose.'
Repairs completed and carriage righted, the journey resumed. A league or two of daylight remained. Stonny once again rode to point, Cafal and Netok taking their places ranging on the flanks. Emancipor guided the carriage, the two sorcerers having retired within.
Buke and Gruntle walked a few paces ahead of Keruli's carriage, saying little for a long while, until the captain sighed heavily and glanced at his friend. 'For what it's worth, there's people who don't want to see you dead, Buke. They see you wasting away inside, and they care enough so that it pains them-'
'Guilt's a good weapon, Gruntle, or at least it has been for a long time. Doesn't cut any more, though. If you choose to care, then you better swallow the pain. I don't give a damn, myself.'
'Stonny-'
'Is worth more than messing herself up with me. I'm not interested in being saved, anyway. Tell her that.'
'You tell her, Buke, and when she puts her fist in your face just remember that I warned you here and now. You tell her — I won't deliver your messages of self-pity.'
'Back off, Gruntle. I'd hurt you bad before you finished using those cutlasses on me.'
'Oh, that's sweet — get one of your few remaining friends to kill you. Seems I was wrong, it's not just self-pity, is it? You're not obsessed with the tragic deaths of your family, you're obsessed with yourself, Buke. Your guilt's an endlessly rising tide, and that ego of yours is a levee and all you do is keep slapping fresh bricks on it. The wall gets higher and higher, and you're looking down on the world from a lofty height — with a Hood-damned sneer.'
Buke was pale and trembling. 'If that's the way you see it,' he rasped, 'then why call me friend at all?'
Beru knows, I'm beginning to wonder. He drew a deep breath, managed to calm himself down. 'We've known each other a long time. We've never crossed blades.' And you were in the habit of getting drunk for days on end, a habit you broke. but one I haven't. Took the deaths of everyone you loved to do that, and I'm terrified it might take the same for me.
Thank Hood the lass married that fat merchant.
'Doesn't sound like much, Gruntle.'
We're two of a kind, you bastard — cut past your own ego and you'd see that fast enough. But he said nothing.
'Sun's almost down,' Buke observed after a time. They'll attack when it's dark.'
'How do you defend against them?'
'You don't. Can't. Like chopping into wood, from what I've seen, and they're fast. Gods, they're fast! We're all dead, Gruntle. Bauchelain and Korbal Broach ain't got much left — did you see them sweat mending the carriage? They're wrung dry, those two.'
'Keruli is a mage as well,' Gruntle said. 'Well, more likely a priest.'
'Let's hope his god's cocked an eye on us, then.'
And what are the chances of that?
With the sun's light pooling crimson on the horizon behind them, they made camp. Stonny guided the horses and oxen into a makeshift, rope-lined kraal to one side of the carriages — a position that would give them a chance to flee inland if it came to that.
A kind of resignation descended within the growing gloom as a meal was prepared over a small fire, Harllo electing himself cook. Neither Keruli nor the two sorcerers emerged from their respective carriages to join the small group.
Moths gathered around the smokeless flames. Sipping mulled wine, Gruntle watched their fluttering, mindless plunges into oblivion with a faintly bitter amusement.
Darkness closed in, the scatter of stars overhead sharpening. With the supper done, Hetan rose. 'Harllo, come with me now. Quickly.'
'My lady?' the man enquired.
Gruntle sprayed a mouthful of wine. Choking, coughing, with Stonny pounding on his back, it was a while before he managed to recover. Through watering eyes, he grinned at Harllo. 'You heard the lady.'
He watched his friend's eyes slowly grow wide.
Impatient, Hetan stepped forward and gripped Harllo by one arm. She pulled him to his feet, then dragged him out into the darkness.
Staring after them, Stonny frowned. 'What's all that about?'
Not a single man spoke up.
She swung a glare on Gruntle. After a moment, she hissed with understanding. 'What an outrage!'