“I will drink to that,” Kiranrao said, smiling. Then he vanished.
Paedrin stood for a moment, savoring his displeasure. He would kill that man someday. Or be killed by him. One of the two outcomes was becoming more and more inevitable. Though in all truth, he would prefer seeing him maimed beyond recognition. Alive enough to breathe and little else.
“You are freezing,” Paedrin said, motioning her to follow him.
“I’m glad you noticed,” she said mockingly. “Where is the fire?”
“This way.”
He led her into the tangle of trees and into a gulch. The glow of the fire could finally be seen then, reflecting off the trickle of a stream in the gulch’s belly. He breathed himself down the embankment and then reached up, helping her jump down. The cave was little more than a sloughing of earth that had collapsed long ago during a rainstorm. Trees sheltered the area on all sides and provided cover for sound as well as shielding the light from the fire. Kiranrao had chosen the place well.
Hettie hurried forward and crouched by the small tongues of heat. She bathed her hands directly into the flames and they did not burn her. Her face showed the first signs of relish.
The inlet was small but it could fit both of them, sitting close together. He joined her next to the fire, savoring the light as much as the heat. She twisted a clump of hair and quickly began drying it. He watched her, fascinated.
“Quit staring,” she said, not looking at him. “Would you fetch my blanket?”
Behind them, he found her pack and opened the buckles. He withdrew the blanket and spread it over her shoulders.
“Not yet, fool,” she said sharply. “I want to warm it by the fire first while my clothes dry, otherwise I’ll be sleeping in a wet blanket tonight.” She sighed deeply. “I am hungry but too tired to hunt. It was a hard swim.”
“You did well,” he offered.
“I wasn’t looking for praise.”
“Can I say anything and not offend you? I have often wondered that.”
“Your silence least offends me,” she said. “I am in no mood to banter tonight. I am exhausted and cold.”
“You have always been cold,” he pointed out. “But I understand the exhaustion part.” He was curious about something and decided to venture further. “I notice that you and Kiranrao trade Romani sayings. They are clever. Like the one you used about fording the stream. You have more, I presume? Teach me.”
She gave him a quizzical look.
He wanted to understand Kiranrao better. He wanted to understand her better. Little sayings and catchphrases were common in every culture. But he wanted to understand his enemy better. To understand the way his mind worked. What better way than to study from his traditions? It would also help him understand Hettie as well.
“I really am tired,” Hettie said sullenly.
“Only a few then. I won’t keep you up long.”
She sighed, which he took as surrender.
“There are so many,” she said. “Hundreds, probably. It is a point of Romani pride to be able to speak a saying that the other person does not already know. If that happens, you nod your head in deference. Since I have spent the last ten years training as a Finder, I do not know all the latest sayings. But some have been handed down for generations.”
“Like?”
“Patience cures many an old complaint. Patience is a plaster for all sores. I think every kingdom has its own version of that one.”
“Indeed. Pain is a teacher. But the best teacher is wisdom. Wisdom is learning from the pain of others.”
She looked at him in surprise and then gave him a slight nod. “Well said.”
“Thank you.”
“There are others that can sound strange to a foreigner. Do not mistake a goat’s beard for a fine stallion’s tail. Do not build the sty until the litter comes.”
“Or count chickens before they hatch.”
“Exactly. As honest as a cat when the meat is out of reach. A little dog can start a hare, but it takes a big one to catch it. A nod is as good as a wink to a blind donkey.”
Paedrin smiled and leaned backward. “So many are about animals. One would think the Romani are farmers.”
“We were all farmers long ago,” she replied.
“Are there any that talk about enemies?” Paedrin asked, and she nodded emphatically.
“The Romani forgive their great men when they are safely buried. Speak well of your friend, of your enemy say nothing.”
“Ahh,” Paedrin said, smiling, savoring the wisdom in the words. “Yes. That is true.”
Hettie rubbed her arms, more slowly this time. He could see little trailers of steam rising from the cloth.
“Can I fetch you anything to eat?” he asked her. “Mushrooms? Slugs? Bark?”
“Sharing your meals again?” she replied with a wicked smile. It was the smile that tore into him the most. So rarely bestowed, so much the more valuable. “Thank you, but no. I am tired, as I said before. If you would take the first watch…”