The whore looked confused by the statement, but followed Roo as he motioned for her to follow.
Erik stood, finding himself alone with the other woman. She could have been young, but it was difficult to tell. A hard expression and the dim campfire light made it impossible to tell if she was closer to fifteen years or forty. Some grey in her dark hair convinced him she was older than he, but he didn’t know if that made him feel more comfortable or less.
“Here?” she asked.
“What?”
“Do you want to do it here, or somewhere else?”
Suddenly feeling profoundly embarrassed, Erik said, “Let’s go down by the river.”
He stuck out his hand awkwardly and she took it, her grip firm and her hand dry. He suddenly felt regret for the gesture, as his palm was damp and his grip uncertain.
She laughed softly and he said, “What?”
“First time, is it?”
He said, “Why . . . of course not, it’s just . . . been a long time, with travel and . . .”
“Of course,” she said. Erik couldn’t tell if there was warmth in her amusement or contempt. He led her down to the bank of the river, and nearly stepped on a couple who were in a frantic embrace. He moved to where it was relatively dark, and stood there uncertain.
The woman quickly was out of her clothing, and Erik felt his own body respond to the sight of her. Her body was nothing extraordinary, a little plump around the hips and thighs, and her breasts sagged, but he suddenly thought of what he was about to do and he couldn’t get out of his clothing fast enough. He had his tunic off and was working on his boots when she said, “You’re a big lad, aren’t you?”
Erik looked down at his own body as if noticing it for the first time. The passage of time and the rigors of his life since being taken prisoner had hardened him to a fitness beyond what he had known at Ravensburg. Always strong, he had lost a softer outer layer of fat and now his powerful smith’s chest and shoulders were rippling muscle, as if he had been carved by a sculptor of the heroic. He said, “I’ve always been big for my age.”
He sat and pulled off his boots, and she came over, and took the top of his pants in a firm grip. Her voice was husky as she said, “Let’s see how big.” She pulled off his pants, and looking at his obvious readiness, she laughed and said, “Big enough!”
Considering her profession, she was tender. She took her time and didn’t laugh at Erik’s awkward fumbling. She calmed him when he needed it, and while their coupling was frantic and quick, there was some sense of caring in it. After it was over, she quickly dressed, but stayed a moment after he paid her. “What’s your name?”
“Erik,” he said, not sure if he was comfortable telling her. “You’re a wild boy, Erik, in a man’s body. The right woman’s going to come to love your touch if you always remember how strong you are and how tender her flesh is.”
Suddenly he felt self-conscious. “Did I hurt you?”
She laughed. “Not really. You were . . . enthusiastic. I’ll have a bruise or two on my backside from hitting the damn ground so hard at the end there. But nothing like when those lads who like to slap a whore around get done with me.”
Pulling on his clothing, Erik said, “Why do you do it?”
The woman shrugged in the gloom, the gesture almost lost, as she dressed. “What else can I do? My man was a soldier, like you. He died five years ago. I have no family or rank. I can steal or whore.” She repeated, without apology or regret, “What else can I do?”
Before he could say anything more she was gone to seek another customer. Erik felt both relieved and empty. There had been something missing in their coupling, and Erik couldn’t tell what it was, but he also knew he was already anxious to try this wonderful thing again.
Six days after making camp, Erik saw Praji and Vaja riding up. Calis motioned for them to come over to where he sat, a short distance from Erik and his squad, who had just finished their midday meal. Men nodded greetings to the two old mercenaries, who walked to where Calis waited and knelt down next to him.
“What did you discover?” asked Calis.
Praji said, “Nothing terribly surprising.” With a wave of his hand to indicate those companies mustered on all sides, “We’re all boxed in between a range of hills to the east, the river over there, about twenty, twenty-five thousand swords to the north of us, and the armies of Lanada and Maharta mustering about fifty miles south of here.”
“The Raj of Maharta sent his army that far north?”
“That’s the rumor,” said Vaja, keeping his voice low so only those near Calis’s campfire could hear him.
Praji said, “This campaign’s been going on for a dozen years, since the fall of Irabek. Sooner or later you’d think the Raj would figure it out. One by one, the cities of the river have fallen, each hoping its neighbor to the north would be the last the Emerald Queen took.”
Calis said, “What else?”