Keir was on a bench, removing his boots. Dishes were rattling off somewhere. Marcus must be making our meal.
Keir glanced up.
I risked a smile. “I think that Marcus is calming down.”
“Really?” His expression did not change, but there was a hint of laughter in his voice. “Marcus?” he called out. “The warprize did not eat at noon.”
The rattling dishes stilled and I heard an enraged cry. I hunched down as Marcus stomped into the room. “What? You think you live on air and light?” He glared at me, with both hands on his hips. “City dwellers.” He said it with disgust, and switched his glare to the larger man.
“I had kavage with Joden and Simus.” I voiced a small protest.
Marcus focused on me again. It was amazing how much anger one eye could hold. “You were told to take nothing except from the hand of the Warlord.”
I cringed and looked over at Keir, who gazed at us both with a straight face. This time I was sure I saw a glimmer of laughter in those eyes.
“Marcus is right.” Keir’s eyes grew serious. “While Simus and Joden have my trust, you are not to take anything from anyone else.” He rose from the bed and went to take his turn in the privy room. Marcus let loose a stream of words under his breath, and stomped out, using words and phrases that I did not understand. I sat there quietly as he stomped back in with two buckets of water for Keir. He was still muttering under his breath when he emerged, radiating anger with every step. I opened my mouth to say that I couldn’t have eaten if I
couldn’t take food from another’s hand, but closed it quickly. Silence seemed wiser.
Marcus returned with a heavy tray and started the dishes to rattling as he placed them on the table. “No food.” He transferred dishes at a rate that made me fear for my life. “Didn’t rest.” He stepped back, surveying his handiwork. “Rolled in muck pits, that she did.” That one eye was focused on me again. “Sit.
” He pointed to the chair.
I sat.
“Hands.”
I held them out, and Marcus poured the water over them, muttering something that did not sound like a prayer.
“Eat.” He crossed his arms.
“Shouldn’t I wait for…” My stomach chose that moment to express its interest in the food. At the sound, Marcus’ sole eye tapered its focus and drilled into me.
“Eat.”
I ate.
As soon as my mouth was full, Marcus started to explain, in detail, the meaning of the words ‘food’ and ‘
rest’. I decided that the wisest choice was to keep nodding and eating.
Finally, Keir emerged from the privy room. “Marcus.”
Marcus stopped and looked over.
“Enough.”
Marcus clamped his mouth tight, poured the water over Keir’s hands, then stomped off, muttering.
The food in my mouth turned to straw. I managed to swallow, but it was a struggle. I’d no idea what to say, how to act, suddenly very aware of the bed behind me. I worried my lip, kept my face down, and focused on the table.
The Warlord was in no hurry. He helped himself to the food and started eating. After a bit, I decided that it looked odd, to sit without eating or talking, so I started back up as well, careful to take small bites.
“It was my fault.”
I stopped chewing when he spoke. With a mouthful of food, I simply raised my eyebrows.
“The tents. I knew that our warrior-priest had been killed in one of the battles. I meant to assign someone else to the wounded, but Simus went missing and in my rush, I forgot.” He looked down and toyed with his food. “I apologized to the men.”
