‘Kevin, damn it, we’d be free!’ Patrick insisted, as if that settled things.
‘Free to do what?’ Kevin pried loose another bit of dirt. He tossed it hard into the water, and the splash startled nearby insects to silence. ‘Ambush patrols of Acoma soldiers? Cho-ja? To fight our way back to wherever the hell we came through that magical hole from our own world? Or, far more likely, we can die of fever or starvation.’
Patrick answered in anger. ‘We’re nothing here, Kevin! If we kill ourselves working, do we get thanks? A better meal? A day of rest? No, we get the same treatment as the animals. Damn it, man, today was the first we’ve not had to labour from dawn to sunset since you left. At least in the mountains we can lead our own lives.’
Kevin shrugged in resignation. ‘I don’t know. You’re a gifted enough hunter in the Grey Towers,’ he said in reference to the mountains near Zun. ‘But up there?’ He sliced a hand at the dark. ‘So you snare some six-legged creature, do you even know if you can eat it? Half the damned things are poisonous. Not like the game at home.’
‘We can learn!’ snapped Patrick. ‘Would you rather work until you die of old age?’ A thought struck him. ‘Or is there another reason, old son? Maybe you’ve come to appreciate the runt way of looking at things?’
Surprisingly stung, Kevin stood up and spun away. ‘No, I . . .’ He sighed, shed his hurt, and tried again, it’s different for me, Patrick. Very different.’
‘You won’t work as hard as us, for one thing.’ The insects scraped loudly and long through a silence. Then Patrick rose also, ‘I see that much.’
Kevin whipped irritably around. ‘No, I don’t think you do.’ Aware he had reached a sort of watershed, he struggled for words to tell his friend what he had come to know and feel for Mara. His hands twisted in frustration. No matter what he said, Patrick would only see the Lady as his captor. A man of plain tastes and simple intellect could not appreciate her ingenious way of seeing things, or Kevin’s own delight when she laughed at his jokes when they were alone. Neither could he explain the magic, the fulfilment of his life as he lost himself in her.
Too tired to communicate the impossible, Kevin threw up his hands. ‘Look, we’ll talk about this again. I . . . can’t promise anything in a hurry. But we can always leave, and since Dustari, things are not quite so hidebound as before.’
‘In what way?’ Patrick snorted, unconvinced. ‘Are the overseers going to treat us like drinking pals now that you’ve come back with her ladyship?’
Kevin shook his head, the gesture mostly lost in the dimness under the trees. ‘No. But I think I’m making progress. Someday . . .’
‘Someday, we’ll be dead,’ Patrick said brutally. He gripped Kevin’s shoulders and all but shook him. ‘Don’t go daft, man, over a little soft thigh. I know you’ve always been one to moon after this pretty face or that, thinking a ready sword meant you were in love. But Kevin, there are no lovely ladies for us to cuddle.’ In the murk Kevin could see Patrick nod toward the distant estate house. ‘While you enjoy your silks, we sleep in mud. When you dine with the mistress in the morning, we’re three hours in the field already, and when you take supper with her, we’re just coming back. You’re only spared our lot as long as you can keep your sword sharp, and the woman doesn’t get tired of you. She’ll choose herself another lover one day, and then you’ll come to know how we live.’
Kevin wanted to argue, but in gritty honesty, he knew Patrick spoke the truth. Mara might love her tall barbarian, but he must never fool himself: she would order his death without an instant’s hesitation if the honour of her house became compromised. Generous, innovative, even softhearted as Mara could be, she was equally capable of ruthlessness.