Jerrold settled in his saddle and exchanged a glance with Captain Ussin.He shrugged.“This might take a while,” he said calmly.
Ussin shrugged and nodded.He glanced at his men.
Jerrold’s prickle grew stronger, but he wasn’t sure why.
The Lord High Baron interrupted his thought.“I’m not sure how to proceed,” Orval said under his breath.
“Wait for it,” Jerrold said, crossing his arms, his attention drawn back to the argument.
“You pot of cat’s piss,” Selver snatched Muris’s hat off his head, and stomped on it.
Muris roared again and punched him in the nose.
“There we go,” Jerrold said.
In a moment, the two old men were on the ground, wrestling in the dust and dirt, battering at one another.The men of the quarry and the journeymen gathered round, cheering them on.Ussin’s men, on the other hand, were all looking amused and rather…smug.
Something was off.
Ussin looked Jerrold’s way and raised an eyebrow, but Jerrold just shook his head.
“Should we—” Orval asked.
“No, no, give it a moment,” Jerrold sighed.
The two men parted, breathing heavily, both on their hands and knees.“You mountain of
oozing pestilence, you’ve not a brain in your head,” Muris panted.His eye was swelling, purple and black.
“You noxious, stinking puss-bucket.”Selver snorted blood out his nose, staining his beard.
They were clearly trying to gather themselves up for the next round, but as they struggled to their feet, they had to lean on each other in order to get up.By the time they were standing, each gripping the other’s shirt, they had started coughing and laughing, blood dripping on their clothes.
“You can still hit, you old fart.”Selver snorted again, mopping at his nose with his sleeve.
“Gave as good as I got, you old turd.”Muris put a hand to his eye and swayed on his feet.
“Here now,” Selver grabbed his shoulder.“You suppose those plague-sores will pay us this time?And what do they want carved, eh?”
Muris grabbed the quarrymaster’s arms and whispered in his ear.
Selver jerked his head back and roared with laughter.“Lads, lads, break out the bottles.We’ll toast to the dangly bits of the high and mighty.Ale,” he called out.“Ale for all.”
“I’ve brought mead in the wagon,” Muris said through a fat lip.
The quarrymen cheered, as did the journeymen.They all headed to the blocks of stone, and bottles appeared from nowhere.
“That’s done, then.”Jerrold nodded.“Think we can leave them to it, now.”
“If you’re sure,” there was doubt in Orval’s voice, but it was pretty clear that the craftsmen were all talking and drinking and had no mind for them.Orval turned his goat cart and Ussin called for his men to follow.
There was the prickle of unease again, as Jerrold watched their faces.
“We’ll get some food in you, and you can tell us all the news of Edenrich,” Orval said to Ussin.
“Not pease porridge, I hope,” Ussin said, his chuckle sounding forced.
“No,” Orval’s voice sounded a bit colder.
