He wasn’t there, I was about to insist…but something in Pilgrim’s tone, a careful nonchalance, raised my hackles.
Punishment was coming. And it was gonna be bad.
Quickly, I said, “I did something even better—I made nice with one of the shaman’s guards.”
Pilgrim inhaled more deeply.
Shit. I would be better off if I’d blown that damn orc after all.
But then Pilgrim said, “The one with the eye?” And I remembered the guard pawing my sarong at the feast…apparently enough to put some scent on the material.
I ran with it. “Yeah, that’s him. The one who looks like Smeg.”
“Stupid human can’t tell any of us apart,” another one said, and they all had a chuckle.
“Get out of here,” Pilgrim told me. “I’m sick of your stink.”
As much as I hated the larkwood chest, it was a relief to crawl inside and shut the lid, because it meant I was safe from Smeg and Pilgrim.
At least for now.
8
Kof
Had the larders been depleted? I couldn’t tell. But the deer head was on salt, awaiting Ul-Rott’s pleasure. So the quartermaster hadn’t disposed of it.
It worried me. In his warnings about the tainted meat, Quinn had seemed so sure of himself. Then again, he always did.
It all came down to Eli. He’d traveled more than any of us. And he hadn’t noticed the spread of any sickness.
Then again, Quinn had claimed the malady took time to make itself known, and the Lost Clan only stayed in one place until the light of the next full moon.
I’d need to think on it.
The next day, once a night of turning the problem around in my mind yielded nothing, I sought out Archie’s opinion. He could contradict himself in the space of a single sentence and still make perfect sense. I didn’t really understand it. But his perspective always shed light on things.
I found Archie crushing herbs in the apothecary. All of the tables had been lowered to accommodate Taruut in his chair, which meant anyone else would need to stoop to use them. But they were the perfect height for the human.
Archie wore a simple linen tunic, the type of thing you’d wear under your armor, and a pair of loose-fitting trousers he’d cut off just below the knee. His feet were bare. He says the caves are hotter than a sweaty ballsack at the height of summer. But I notice he wears a silken scarf Droko gave him under his tunic anyhow.
His coppery hair was tucked behind an ear, threatening to fall into his eyes. It had grown since he got here. Human hair grows fast.
An array of tools were within easy reach—including several knives.
He greeted me with, “Just in time. There’s a stubborn pile of seeds in that mortar that could use your attention.”
Not a command. More of a suggestion. Yet another way humans were so different from us.
I took up the pestle and began to grind. The seeds released a smell like green grass and pepper. It was good work—mindless and repetitive—and I took care not to leave any hull unbroken.
“You don’t have to do it that fine.” Archie took the powder, then handed me a string of tough, leathery pods to be broken open.
I twisted one until it split and dumped the contents into a basket. “Where you are from, how many meanings are there the wordfine?”
“Well, there’sfineas in the opposite of coarse. Andfineas in adequate. And, of course, the fine you pay for violating some ridiculous morality statute thatno oneever abides by—”
“What about when there’s something wrong…but you say you’re fine.”
