“Leave him alone,” Tomn said from the fire, scraping the sides of the scorched cauldron to fill another bowl.
“What’s the matter with you, Tomn?” Beck jeered. “You wish you were a Shaden too?” He gave Thealos a cutting look. “Here’s a question for you, boy. You’ve asked us about the valley, but I want to know about your people.” His voice was slightly slurred, and his breath stank of ale.
“I’m sure you do,” Thealos said under his breath.
“Tell me about your land. Is it true that you pray to the trees? Oh, and what about that lovely lass Laisha Silverborne! Does she really dress in silk socks and dance around the Palace grounds? I’ve heard that. Haven’t you? She’s so high and snooty, some royal wench. Or do you dance just praying for a peek at her or does she come out wearing...”
“You mock what you don’t understand,” Thealos said tightly.
“Then I’m right, am I?” Beck hooted.
“No – you’re just displaying your ignorance. Is it true that humans grunt like rabbits when they breed?”
“What did you…?” Beck challenged, rising quickly.
“Sit down, Beck,” Tannon stamped.
“But you heard what he…”
A dagger flashed in Tannon’s hand and the soldier stared back at it warily. “We need him alive. He’s been a good help to us.”
“He hasn’t done a banned thing,” Cropper fumed.
“I think I want to change my vote now,” Hoth said, giving Thealos a cruel look. “We don’t need a Shaden in our band. Kill him and dump him in the river.”
Thealos felt a surge of real fear, but his anger proved stronger. He wanted to throttle Hoth with both hands. Containing his rage and clenching his teeth, he sat silently, glaring at Tannon’s Band. Tomn released the wooden spoon, his hand dropping on the hilt of a dagger.
“There’s more of us who want him dead now,” Cropper told Tannon.
“In the morning,” Tannon replied. “No one touches him tonight. Got that, Cropper?”
“He’s just a Shaden. He’s got you blind now too.”
“If you want your thirty days of leave,” Tannon replied, “you’d better start doing your job. Now stand watch.”
“Tie him up, first.”
“He ain’t going anywhere…”
Cropper shook his head. “Tie him up, or I’ll kill him now.” He took a step forward, jerking the mace loose in his belt hoop.
“It’s all right,” Thealos said, offering his wrists to be tied, trying to stifle the mounting tension. “I know the rules. And Beck,” he gave the other soldier a half-mocking smile, “we dance in white silk socks. They have to be a certain color.” It earned him a few chuckles from Hoth and Beck, helping to mollify the mood a little. “Come on,” he said lightly. “We were only joking.” Tannon and Cropper glared at each other. Finally, Cropper cursed and stalked off into the shadows.
Thealos decided that he’d better not be with Tannon’s Band in the morning.
*
I’m sorry if they scared you tonight,” Tomn said in hushed tones, scrubbing the pot again. Thealos didn’t know why the cook bothered. Without scalding water, soap, and a chisel, he would never get it clean. Tomn sat next to Thealos where they could keep their voices pitched low so the others wouldn’t hear. Tannon snored like a bladder horn. Jurrow twitched in his sleep, his arm cradling a wineskin. Beck and Hoth were also asleep. That left Cropper in the perimeter. From the corner of his eye, Thealos could see him in the darkness outside the rings of firelight.
Thealos studied Tomn. Finishing the pot, the cook plopped down and dusted his pants. His reddish-brown hair looked gold with the fire behind him. He had a splotch of freckles across his nose and cheeks.
“I am scared,” Thealos whispered. “They almost killed me tonight.”
Tomn looked over at him, concern wrinkling his brow. “I wouldn’t have let them.”
Thealos smiled sadly. “Four against two isn’t very good odds. That’s about how many humans there are compared with the Shae. You could say we’re used to being outnumbered, but not against soldiers. I’m not a soldier, Tomn.”
Tomn tugged at the rim of his boot. “What does your name mean, Thealos? In your language.”
“Thealos means ‘Spirited.’ I wasn’t the easiest child my Correl and Sorrel had to raise.”
“Hmm,” Tomn muttered, wringing his hands. “You said your father…I mean, your Correl, was a cloth barter, right? If I showed you something, you would be able to tell me what it’s worth, right?”