Chapter Seventeen
Despite his frustrations, Finnvid slept well that night, and woke the next day ready for walking.
Which was a good thing, because that was all they did.
Even taking the lower route there were hills to climb and descend and a lot of snow to fight through, and though he hiked in the middle of the pack with the Torians breaking the trail ahead of him, his thighs were trembling by the time they stopped for a midday rest. The day before had been the warm-up, but now the Torians were in marching mode, and they were tireless.
Finnvid knew Andros was watching him and the other Elkati, and felt a flash of hope when he saw the Sacrati speak quietly to his patrol leader. He was too proud to admit his weakness, but not too proud to have someone else point it out.
He tried not to look pathetic when Andros came over to him after the conversation. “Stretch,” the Sacrati said gently. “Any time we stop for a break, make sure you keep moving at least a little. And stretch your muscles out. Otherwise they’ll freeze up and you’ll have trouble starting again.”
That wasn’t quite the news Finnvid had been wishing for, and as soon as he realized it, he felt ashamed.
This whole trip had been his idea. No one had forced him to walk home in the wintertime, and no one had told him it would be easy.
It was his second day on the trail and he was already wishing they could take more breaks?
Spend more time in the wilderness, where a blizzard could strike at any moment?
“Thank you,” he said to Andros. “And . . . do you have any ideas for eating the cakes? I just . . . the texture . . .”
“Start small,” Andros said easily. “And eat them with something else. You’ve got dried fruit, right?
A nibble of cake with a chunk of apple to begin with, and then gradually start eating more cake, less apple.
” He grinned. “I’ve been eating them since I was a kid, so I’ve never had a problem.
But when we get new recruits from outside the Empire, that’s what they do. ”
“Thank you,” Finnvid said again. He wondered how many kindnesses this man had already shown him, and how many more were to come. “Andros,” he said slowly. It might be a mistake, but he needed to be honest. “The snakebite . . . when I . . . you know . . .”
“When you saved my life?”
“Well . . . about that.” He was too far in to quit.
“I just— I didn’t have a treatment for the snakebite.
Theos threatened to kill my men if I didn’t cure you, but .
. . I didn’t know what I was doing. I just .
. . I mean, I treated the symptoms. I wasn’t just feeding you bitter water.
But, you know, in terms of an actual cure . . .”
There wasn’t even a tense moment. Andros had started smiling partway through Finnvid’s stammered explanation, and by the end he had thrown his head back and was laughing. “You didn’t save my life! I’m too tough to die!”
“I may have helped. Maybe.”
Andros looked over toward Theos and his expression darkened a little. “I wish I could tell him. But the mood he’s in, it’d be one more example of Elkati trickery.” He sighed. “And probably a sign of my deceptiveness, too, daring to recover just to give you a better story.”
“I’m sorry,” Finnvid said. Not only for pretending to be a better healer than he was, but for everything going on between Andros and Theos, for the tension between the Sacrati and the other Torian soldiers .
. . for all of it. For the disruption of his presence in their lives.
Then he thought about the disruption to Elkati lives if something hadn’t been done to keep the Torians away, and he stopped feeling guilty in favor of being confused.
Nothing was as simple as it had seemed months earlier when his brother had sent him on a mission to meet with the warlord of the barbarian invaders.
“I may need more breaks,” he said, surprising himself with the confession. “I’ll work as hard as I can, I promise. But . . . I’m not as fit as you are. Not even as fit as the other Elkati.”
“I’m going to take most of your pack,” Andros said as if it had already been decided.
“We can leave the tents behind, with your permission. And I’ll distribute the rest of the weight among the Torians.
We’ll take some of your men’s gear too. I can tell the Torians it’s training.
Or maybe turn it into a contest between the Sacrati and the others, to see who can carry more. ”
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“It would break our Torian hearts if you were able to keep up. You’ll be doing us a service if you allow us to continue feeling superior.”
Finnvid let himself agree, and as the day dragged on, he was glad of it.
The Torians grumbled but didn’t actually seem too put out, and the Elkati were sufficiently tired to swallow their pride and accept the help.
Even with his lighter pack, by the time the sun was low enough for Finnvid to feel justified in suggesting they stop for the night, he could barely feel his legs.
He carefully stretched his muscles, but knew he’d be sore the next day.
The Sacrati dropped their packs and then disappeared into the forest again.
He’d asked about it the night before and been told they were setting snares; that morning, the Sacrati had gone out to retrieve their prizes, then gutted and skinned the captured animals.
Now, as the Sacrati returned from the forest, they pulled half-frozen meat from the outside of their packs and set it to cooking on the fires.
Finnvid watched cautiously as the shepherdess approached the Elkati fire, a skinned rabbit in her hands. “We have extra,” she said, “if you’d like a share.”
“Will you sit with us as we eat it?” one of the men said, a lascivious grin on his face.
Finnvid winced, but the woman didn’t seem affected. “No, I prefer to eat with better company. Shall I leave the rabbit?”
“Thank you,” Finnvid said quickly. “We appreciate it.”
She nodded in his direction and tossed the rabbit into the snow by his feet.
Andros came over later and showed the Elkati how to den up, and that was about all the interaction between the two groups for the first several days.
By the evening of the fifth day, Finnvid’s soreness was wearing off, and being replaced by a deeper, more troubling exhaustion.
It wasn’t just the endless work, but the constant cold.
Even denned up like the Torians he was never really comfortable, and every morning the daylight called him out of his burrow to face the biting wind.
They weren’t even at the border yet, and he was barely able to keep going.
It was too late to turn around, though, so he knew he had to keep moving or lie down and die.
That night at the campfire, it was Theos who approached with a couple snared squirrels.
The Sacrati had been good about sharing their food, giving some to the Elkati and some to the other Torians.
Divided among the men there was barely more than a mouthful of meat for each; not enough to give them the energy they needed, but an appreciated bit of flavor nonetheless.
This night, though, with Theos standing there staring down at them, it was clear that something more was in the works.
“You’re starting to drag,” he said. It wasn’t quite an accusation, but it certainly wasn’t a compliment.
“We’re doing our best,” Nasi protested.
“You need to do better.” Theos pulled two of the fat cakes out of his pack and tossed them into the cookpot, where the lard began to sizzle immediately.
“Fry the meat. Then make a paste with the vegetable flour and make it into balls, and fry that. Fry dried-up leaves, if you have to. Don’t stop frying things until all that fat is in your bellies.
” He took a step away, then turned back and said, “Tomorrow you’ll have three cakes to eat.
The day after that will be four. I’ll keep adding to the number until you can keep up on the trail. ”
“We’ll be at the border soon enough, and we’ll be rid of you,” Nasi growled.
“The rate you’re going you’ll still be in Torian territory come springtime. Of course, you’ll be frozen in a snowbank by then, waiting for the vultures to find when they come back from the south.” And with that, Theos stalked off.
Finnvid should have left it, but he was on his feet before his mind knew what he was doing. He stumbled after Theos, and when the man stopped and whirled to stare at him, he blurted, “Thank you.”
Theos’s scowl didn’t disappear, but after a moment, he grudgingly said, “My oldest boy didn’t like cakes. That’s how his mother got him to eat them.”
“And now he likes them?”
“Now he eats them. I don’t think anybody really likes them.”
It was almost a conversation. Not friendly, exactly, but at least an exchange of words. “Well, we’ll hope for that, then. And I didn’t just mean to thank you for the advice about the cakes. I meant for everything. For trying to help me. For not—not being cruel to me. Before. Thank you.”
Now the man’s scowl deepened. “I didn’t help you.”
Finnvid wasn’t sure how to respond. “You meant to, though.”
“I’m foolish that way.” Theos turned away, clearly ready to stop talking. “I’m trying to get smarter.”
“I hope it doesn’t work,” Finnvid said. He meant it. He liked Theos just the way he was. “And, Theos . . . Andros didn’t know much. Not for long. And I know he was ordered not to tell. It wasn’t his choice. I don’t think he’d ever choose to keep secrets from you.”
“Thank you for your wisdom, princeling. I’ll be sure to consult you in the future, if I need anything else explained to me.”