“I wondered if you were awake.” He'd suspected as much. Exhausted or not, she'd never be one to sleep deeply. “And I disagree. Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't have eaten his liver if he'd shoved his foot in your back to wake you.”
She wrinkled her nose, eyes glowing bright in the hood's darkness. “I don't want to look in your eye. It moves too much and is strange.” The tiniest smile played along her lips. “I've no doubt Ogran's liver would have tasted a lot better than that gruel you just shoved down your gullet.”
The crew and his men all turned toward Serovek at his laughter, some with puzzled looks, others like Erostis with a considered scrutiny that moved from him to Anhuset and back again. Serovek knew what they thought. What about this taciturn, intimidating Kai woman fascinated him so?
Everything.
While Anhuset composed her message, he spent the time reviewing the map he'd brought with him of the Lobak valley. The wagon and its precious cargo precluded leaving the roads for a shortcut through rougher country. Several of the paths marked on the map were hardly more than drover roads, and they'd be lucky if they didn't have to stop more than once to repair a broken wheel. Ogran, who hailed from this part of the Beladine hinterlands, had assured him before their trip that the wagon could make it.
“Some spots will rattle your brains, especially if the local folk have driven cattle or sheep through after a hard rain and it's dried since. We'll just have to go slow and nurse the wagon along. Once we cross the Dulgrada bridge, we'll be on a main road that's nearly as smooth as a royal courtesan's backside.”
Serovek was more worried about the bridge than the roads. The Dulgrada was a spandrel bridge instead of one of the more numerous suspension bridges. Sturdy, wide and built to provide safe passage for foot and transport traffic over the narrow but deep ravine that marked entry into the Lobak Valley, it provided a shorter, less circuitous route to the monastery. A safer one too where Chamtivos wasn't causing trouble. Serovek hoped the map, which showed the bridge, was still current, and they'd have an easy crossing.
By the time they'd reached the next landing, Ardwin, Weson, Ogran, and Jannir had their gear packed and had negotiated among themselves as to who would return to High Salure and who would travel to Saggara. Serovek had rightly guessed Ogran wouldn't volunteer to travel into Kai territory when another choice was available to him. Anhuset would be satisfied.
The four men disembarked, Jannir carrying the note Anhuset had written for the Khaskem on a ragged piece of parchment she'd bought from the captain for a sum equal to highway robbery.
With their numbers reduced to four and Megiddo for the remainder of the journey, and most of their road rations sent with the others, they were low on supplies. Feeling generous after making a nice profit on a bit of blank parchment and some ink, the captain gave them some helpful information.
“When you leave, go a half league west. It'll take you off your path a small ways, but there's a village with a decent market where you can purchase more provisions. I'll give you directions and the names of the better vendors.”
“Let's hope they sell onions cheaper than you sell parchment,” Anhuset said in the driest voice.
Once the captain left, Serovek tutted and gave a sigh of mock disapproval. “Not much in the way of diplomacy there, firefly woman.”
She shrugged and set to work packing the last of her satchels in preparation for disembarking. “I let him rob me and didn't eat him. That's diplomacy.”
He thanked the gods for the blessing of having her here. Her acerbic remarks made him laugh, made this journey less grim, and the dangers not so burdensome. She was good for his soul. He would miss her mightily when they parted ways at High Salure and she returned to Saggara.
It didn't take long after they traded the river and barge for land and horseback to reach the village the boat captain recommended. A small but bustling place acting as a hub for other smaller villages, the center square was crowded with people and stalls selling everyday goods and produce. What luxury items there might have been Serovek couldn't guess. His interest was only on resupplying their provisions to last until they reached the monastery.
He and Erostis were the only ones to travel into the village itself. Anhuset stayed with Klanek and the wagon just outside of the settlement. Before they'd left, Serovek asked her if she wanted him to bring back any specific fruit or treat for her. She'd shaken her head. “I'll eat whatever is there.” She scowled the moment the words left her lips. Before Serovek could tease about her statement, she pointed a finger at him. “No maggot potato things. I might as well eat dirt. It'll taste better.”
While they didn't have Anhuset with them to draw a crowd's attention, Serovek himself garnered more notice than he anticipated. Even garbed in the hard-worn travel clothing in need of laundering and days of road and river dirt on him, people had guessed a nobleman of importance was visiting. Vendors fawned over him in the hopes he'd be generous with his purchases. Some of the village elders invited him and Erostis to supper at their homes, and a yeoman's beautiful wife made it clear she'd be happy to introduce him to the village's other hospitalities.
Another woman tucked a bundle of dried herbs bound in ribbon into one of the satchels he carried along with the packages of dried fruit he'd purchased from her. “For your lady-love,” she told him with a smile and a wink. “And if you don't have one of those, you can always make yourself a nice cup of tea with it.”
They returned with bulging saddlebags. “We bought potatoes,” Serovek announced, grinning when Anhuset winced. “There isn't much available in the way of fresh stuff with everything just coming out of winter, and Erostis has assured me he knows how to cook these 'maggots' in such a way that you'll come to love them.”
She gave Erostis an arch look. “Don't go to extra trouble on my account. I'm not convinced those things are meant to be eaten as food in the first place.”
They loaded and secured the cumbersome packs into the wagon. Serovek took the brief time to scan his map and the route they'd take to the bridge. Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he glanced up to spot Anhuset pausing before bending down to stare at something on the ground. Whatever she dropped, she scooped up and with a quick sleight of hand, tucked it away in her tunic.
He would have thought nothing of it except for the arrested, almost guilty expression on her face when she did it. When they were once more on the road, he considered asking her but thought better of it. It was one thing to inquire out of concern, another to pry.
For this leg of the journey, Erostis rode in the front next to Klanek where the two swapped stories of various escapades when they were children that made Serovek pity their parents. He rode behind the wagon next to Anhuset, content enjoy the quiet.
She surprised him when she broke the companionable silence with a question. “Why is the Lobak valley so desired by this Chamtivos?”
“Because owning land is possessing power. Owning a great deal of land is having a great deal of power, but you must fight hard to keep it. Chamtivos was the youngest son of a minor Beladine nobleman. To keep the holding intact, the lord bequeathed all of it to the eldest son, to be inherited upon his death.”
She gave a soft whistle. “I'm guessing whatever brotherly affection existed until then vanished.”
“That's putting it mildly,” he replied. “What Chamtivos lacked in status, he made up for in ambition and ruthlessness. He killed his father, his brothers, and their progeny so there'd be no claim but his to the holding. According to him, the hard hand of fate had dealt harshly with his family. A drowning, hunting accidents, an unfortunate fall from a cliff, a difficult childbirth. He then traveled to the capital and petitioned the king not only for recognition of his right to the fiefdom but to the lands bordering the Jeden monastery and beyond.”
“A man so driven makes a dangerous vassal. One who'll murder his own family to rise in status will think nothing of murdering anyone else, including sovereigns. Nor will they remain content with ruling a castle and farmland, no matter how rich.” Her features hardened. “Even the Khaskem, as even-tempered as he is, would have Chamtivos either imprisoned or put to death.”
On a slope overlooking the plain surrounding Saggara, with an army of the dead behind him, Serovek had watched as Brishen's eidolon embraced his mother's twisted spirit and obliterated it. He'd done it without hesitation or regret, much like Chamtivos, but for entirely different reasons. He had no doubt Brishen would do exactly as Anhuset claimed.