“You a Zerite?” The Drugaen’s voice was as raspy as a sack full of leaves.
Exeres nodded and knelt by the Drugaen. Gripping his wrist, he felt for the throb of his pulse. “My name is Exeres. It’s strange meeting a Drugaen down here. What’s your name, friend?”
The Drugaen scowled and looked at the wall. “Flent.”
Another shudder went through Exeres. A premonition. His heart beat faster and faster. He waited until he heard Nool’s bootsteps echo further down the noisy corridor.
“Where does it hurt, Flent?”
“My guts. I’ve had tide fever before…once. It hurts like Pitan, Zerite. Can’t even stand up anymore.”
“You’re real sick. But I can cure the tide fever.” He leaned closer. “You wouldn’t have a friend, would you? A girl?”
Flent’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Ticastasy. That’s her name.” The look in Flent’s eyes told him that he knew her. “By my soul, this is strange.” He opened his pack and began rummaging for his juttleberry. “Just last night, she was helping me tend the wounded in Castun. She thinks you’re dead.” Exeres wiped his mouth. “I wish there was a way I could tell her I found you.”
“You came…from Castun?” He tried sitting up and winced.
“You know Allavin Devers as well? Of course you do.”
“Did they send you?” Flent whispered.
“No. Jaerod did.”
The strength of the Drugaen’s grip on his arm surprised Exeres. Not many dead men could squeeze that hard. Unable to help it, he smiled.
*
"What are you feeding them?” Exeres asked Nool, wiping his hands on a soiled rag.
“Not much. Don’t want ‘em to be strong.”
“Put a little squeeze of juttleberry in with their drink. It will help cure some of the tide fever. Your own men will start getting sick if you don’t purge this place.”
Nool smirked. “None of ‘em have gotten sick. N’ain’t one. A little juttleberry we have, so we’ll give a few some of it. Bitter stuff. Stings too. It’s past midnight, priest. Go sleep in the kitchen if you want. Come back in the morning.”
“I will.”
Exeres left the dungeon ward and went back up the steps. Entering the kitchen near the point of exhaustion, he settled onto a bench after grabbing a small trencher before it had been slopped with stew. He tore nibbles from the bread, drank from his flask, and when he had finished it, he went to the cook and asked for some raw peapods, beans, and a small round of pale cheese. Eating slowly, he wondered if he should curl up on the floor after all. There weren’t any roaches or rats that he could see.
“A platter for Commander Phollen. Be quick about it. He’s hungry.”
The name pricked Exeres’ attention, like another book sliding into place on a bookshelf. Commander Phollen? Tsyrke Phollen? Reaching up, he stretched long and slow. Grabbing his chin, he gave his neck a little tug until it popped. He did not look at the man who had asked for the food. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the man’s position in the room. Exeres rose from the table and brushed off his hands. He started for the door at the same moment the other man did, steadying a heavy tray in one arm.
Exeres walked slowly, letting the man gain ground ahead of him. Up the stairs and down the hallway. There was a sharp turn and a solitary door with only two guards. He let the man go ahead of him, but he lingered just out of view. His heart thumped in his chest. Too many coincidences. Should he wait until morning? Part of him cringed at the thought.
Before he could think better of it, Exeres started down the hall leading to the door. The two men at post saw him coming.
“What do you want?” one of them asked.
He licked his lips. “I need to speak with Tsyrke Phollen.”
Chapter VII
With a burr of nervousness in his stomach, Exeres entered the room beyond the massive oak door. Upon entering, the smell of strong mead overwhelmed him. It was a cloying smell. As a Zerite, he did not drink wine, mead, or ale. The strongest thing he had tasted was a watered-down apple cider, and the act had not been intentional. A few candles burned in the room along with several oil lamps, creating rich shadows in the seams and corners.
The man he had been sent to find emerged from behind a wooden screen. He paused a moment to stare at Exeres and then finished by hanging a sword and belt over the top corner of the screen. A red cape lay folded on a big chest on the floor. Exeres had to look up to see the whole of him. He was tall, sinewy, and had an angry scowl and bleary eyes. His hauberk made a chinking noise as he walked.
“What is it, Zerite?” the man asked, his voice a little hoarse. “I’ve been in the saddle all day. What do you want?”