Chapter Four
They made slow but steady progress the next day, and at dinnertime Finnvid allowed Andros to eat some finely minced vegetables and a tiny bit of the rabbit Xeno had caught and roasted.
Finnvid clearly knew Theos was watching him around the food, and after feeding Andros he defiantly pushed away the vegetables and meat Xeno offered him.
“I’m not really hungry,” the Elkati said.
“I think I’ll just have a little more broth. ”
“Good,” Theos grunted. He reached across and lifted the rejected plate off the ground by Finnvid’s side. “I didn’t get quite enough meat. Does anyone want more vegetables, or should I eat those too?”
He waited a moment for an answer he didn’t get, then started eating.
The rabbit was greasy and delicious, almost enough to make him forget that the vegetables had been dried and chopped into something closer to flour than to recognizable forms. Dried fruit, dried grain, dried vegetables, dried meat, reconstituted only if there was time to camp and start a fire—that was the diet of a soldier in the field.
The rabbit made this meal a luxury, even if there was no replacement for the vegetable slush.
The next morning, the Elkati ate the same breakfast as everyone else, and Andros managed a half serving of oatmeal.
They traveled faster that day, too. By the time the sun was setting, they’d reached the sentry at the top of the valley, and Theos helped Andros pull the leather bag from around his neck.
They were home, and their spirits didn’t need to be fooled anymore.
Theos hung the bags up on the hook, then told Andros, “We can camp here, if you want, or else spend another few hours on the road and you can sleep in your own bed. It’s your decision. ”
“I’m already in bed,” Andros said, patting the sides of his stretcher with satisfaction. “I’m happy either way.”
Theos looked at the other men. The Sacrati would be happy to get home, and walking through the flat valley in the dark wasn’t dangerous.
Five Sacrati who wanted their beds . . .
Theos caught the Elkati’s eye. Finnvid was trying to look unconcerned, but not really managing it.
He had no idea what was waiting for him when they reached the city, and Theos didn’t know much himself.
The other prisoners had been heading for interrogation when he’d left the valley; what had they said?
Why had they been on the wrong side of the border, and why had they been led by a healer instead of .
. . well, instead of just about anyone else?
And even if the questions had been answered in the most innocent ways, what was waiting for Finnvid after the evaluators saw him?
“We’ll camp,” Theos decided. They’d left the cold behind on the mountain, and it would be pleasant to have a night under the stars without shivering. One last night before returning to the usual routine. Well, routine for five of them.
The sentry post was well stocked with food and miscellaneous cooking tools; Theos thought back to his own time on sentry duty and didn’t remember the same level of luxury.
It was probably a sign of moral decline that the sentries were living so well now, but he was too happy to see fresh bread to worry too much about it.
He just commandeered what he wanted and left the sentries sputtering indignantly.
Living on jerky until they were relieved of duty would be good for the soldiers’ characters.
Theos, on the other hand? He and the others grilled slabs of ham, roasted freshly dug potatoes and carrots, and made a sort of apple-berry cobbler for dessert.
A few jugs of ale might have completed the feast, but no one complained.
They just ate, and sat around the fire. Even Andros, after having a taste of all of their foods, was more-or-less upright, leaning back against Xeno.
“Almost as good as the harvest feast,” Achus said, patting his belly contentedly.
“I always wondered why they fed us so well on those nights,” Elios mused. “After a big meal, I just want to sleep. Pleasing a woman seems like a lot of work.”
“That would explain why you don’t get many invitations to the city,” Xeno said. “You’ll be stuck with one or two kids a year if you can’t make the women want you more often. Theos, though . . . Theos, how many have you got so far? Must be almost fifty?”
“Forty-six, I think. Two more on the way, though.”
Elios shook his head. “Too much trouble. Why get cleaned up, walk all the way to the city, and go through all their nonsense, just to fuck a woman, when I could roll over right now and do whatever I wanted to Achus?”
“You have forty-six . . . Are you talking about— You’ve fathered forty-six children?
” The Elkati was staring at Theos, his expression a mix of disbelief and something that looked like disgust. “I’ve heard about the Torian practices, but .
. . forty-six? You aren’t even— You’re quite young! When did you start having children?”
“My oldest is coming to the barracks this winter. He’s almost nine.” Theos wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or amused by the Elkati’s reaction.
“You’ve had forty-six children in nine years?”
Theos looked to Andros to see if he wanted to jump into the conversation, but Andros just said, “Carry on. You’re seven kids ahead of me, and I started before you. Explain yourself to the foreigner.”
Theos shrugged. “Three festivals a year. Babies don’t always come from festival couplings, of course, but .
. . one or two a year, from that. And then an invitation to the city most cycles, when I’m not on campaign, and they time it all carefully, so quite a few of those visits result in babies.
So maybe five or six visits a year, for three or four more babies a year . . .” The math seemed simple.
“We don’t all get the extra invitations,” Achus told Finnvid patiently.
“You wouldn’t know it to look at him right now, but when Theos shaves and cleans up, he’s a handsome devil.
And the women look at his career too, and hear reports from officers and from other women.
They like him because he’s good stock so he’ll probably give them good babies.
” Achus lowered his voice a little as he added, “And because he makes them scream with pleasure.”
“While men like Elios are sleeping off a big meal,” Theos said with a laugh.
Then he turned his attention to Finnvid.
Was it cruel to ask him about his old life, the one he’d never be able to go back to?
Maybe, but it seemed awkward to ignore the topic altogether.
So he tried to keep his question general.
“I’ve heard rumors that Elkati mate for life, like beavers. ”
“Beavers?”
“One male beaver, one female beaver, in their lodge. Beavers.”
Finnvid clearly didn’t like the comparison. “We—we marry. We make vows to be faithful to each other.”
“To have sex only with each other, forever?” Theos frowned. “What if you get tired of each other? What if your couplings don’t produce babies? What if one of you dies?”
“If one of us dies, the other could remarry,” Finnvid said, straightening his shoulders. “But otherwise . . . we remain faithful.”
“Sex with one person. Forever.” Theos realized he’d expected to be laughed at when he’d brought up the rumors. How could anything so ridiculous actually be true? “So, have you married?” Theos was curious. “Will your woman marry again, now that you’re gone?”
Finnvid looked as if he wanted to argue, maybe to insist that his captivity was only temporary. But instead he said, “I don’t have a . . . you don’t have a Torian word for it, then? A ‘wife’? I don’t have one.”
“So . . . wait. If you only have sex with the one you’re married to, and you’ve never married . . .”
The other men around the campfire had faded out of the conversation at some point, but now their attention was back, and they were staring at Finnvid with wide eyes.
“Have you never had sex?” Xeno asked, the disbelief clear in his tone.
“That’s private,” Finnvid replied. He sounded prim and disapproving, but Theos could hear the insecurity beneath it and decided to take pity on him with a less personal line of questioning.
“So, when Elkati are married,” he said, “do you only speak to each other, as well? Only look at each other? If one of you is away on a campaign, the other one . . . just . . . doesn’t have sex? At all?”
“Torian men spend most of the summer away from home,” Finnvid countered. “So it’s the same problem, isn’t it? Your women can’t have sex when you’re not around.”
Theos looked at him blankly, then turned toward his fellow Sacrati, hoping one of them could interpret the Elkati’s words.
Receiving no help, he said slowly, “They have sex with each other. They don’t need us for sex, any more than we need them.
That’s . . .” He was still searching for some different meaning in the boy’s words.
Finnvid was supposed to be a healer, so surely he’d understand these things?
“You need a man and a woman for babies,” Theos explained. “That’s all.”
“But . . .” Even in the firelight the boy’s blush was clear to see.
Theos wondered if the skin would feel as hot as it appeared.
“Yes, thank you,” Finnvid managed to say.
“I know about babies. But . . . it doesn’t have to be just for babies.
You can sleep with women for, you know, for pleasure.
Companionship. All of that. As well as babies. ”
Theos was having to rethink his assessment of the Elkati. How could someone so clever about some things be so clueless about others?
“The women live in the city.” He felt like he was speaking more slowly with every sentence. “We could sleep with them for pleasure, but they’re far away. And it’d be a nuisance to have to get approval from the temple every time.”