12. Jerrid #2
Jerrid felt that same pang of worry in his own gut. They’d be careful. That was all they could do.
That’s Jerrid Speech for, “Let’s just ignore the problem and hope it goes away,” Dragon muttered. I hate to break it to you, but I won’t be going away. You’re stuck with me.
A fact Jerrid was all too aware of.
“Very well,” Brynja said suddenly, her tone brisk. “I won’t put her in the cell, but she isn’t allowed to leave the camp without permission. You’ll sleep by the dragon, and I will be watching all night long.”
Ava exhaled quietly. Was that a sigh of relief?
“But if you try to leave the camp,” Brynja continued in a harder tone, “I won’t be held responsible for my actions. You’ve been warned.”
If this threat frightened Ava, she didn’t show it. Or maybe she just had no intention of leaving the camp, which robbed the sting from the promise of violence.
Brynja turned back to Jerrid. “We do need to get you some clothes. I won’t have you parading your manly glory around all the girls.”
Jerrid’s face went hot, but Dragon chuckled.
“Come along. We’ll go see Finnr. He should have something that will fit, but if you don’t keep your dog on a leash, you’ll soon run out of clothes. We might have to put you in a dress.”
This time, it was Ava who laughed.
As Brynja stormed ahead to find clothes, Ava leaned toward him, her expression sobering. “You do remember I’m not actually your wife, don’t you?”
His face exploded with heat again. “I’m, uh, trying to make it convincing. So she doesn’t decide to kill you or leave you locked up in that closet for eternity.”
She sucked on her lower lip, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. “I appreciate that, but maybe you’re taking things a little too far…”
He just shrugged and set off after Brynja. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, too embarrassed and frustrated by the whole situation, by his whole life.
Finnr did indeed have clothes. They were a little large, but when Jerrid came out of the tent, freshly scrubbed and clothed in clean garments, he felt respectable at least. The donor looked him over with a critical eye, stroking his unkempt beard with long, agile fingers.
“They look better on you than they look on me,” he said grudgingly, a twinkle in his eye.
A pretty woman with nut-brown hair came up behind him and swatted him on the arm. “You vain old goat.”
“I’m not vain!” Finnr threw up his hands in mock horror. “I was merely stating an irrefutable fact, oh suspicious wife. Look at him. Do you not agree that he looks better than I do?”
The woman slanted a glance at Jerrid, a bit of pink in her cheeks and a saucy smile playing about her lips. “Oh, yes, I do agree he’s more handsome than you.”
Finnr’s mouth turned down, but the twinkle remained in his eyes. “Alas! Close your eyes to temptation, woman.”
She put her hands on her hips and laughed. “You’re the one who told me to look at him. Do you prefer that I disobey? I can oblige, darling.”
He shook a finger at her, as if he were scolding a small child. “Oh, you saucy lass!”
But she merely laughed and turned away, disappearing back into their tent. Moments later, a yowl exploded from the tent.
“Roar! Get your bottom back in that bed!”
The yowl grew louder. “You’re pulling my ear off, Ma! Ow, ow, ow!”
“Oh, that lad,” Finnr said, heaving a heavy sigh that sounded genuine. “He’s too much like me, but with all his Ma’s sass and determination. Keeping that boy alive is a full-time task, let me tell you.”
Jerrid tugged on the cuff of his borrowed tunic, unsure what he should say.
“Don’t have children, lad,” Finnr continued, winking at Jerrid, “not unless you wish to be traumatized for the rest of your born days.”
“I’ll, ah, keep that in mind.”
Finnr chuckled. “No, you won’t. No one does. Everyone thinks their children will be saints. It’s a time-honored tradition of stupidity.”
Since he had never had children—or had any intention of having children—Jerrid didn’t really see the point in defending himself against the charge.
Defend our honor anyway, Dragon urged, but he sounded sleepy and content.
Jerrid could almost imagine him curling up into a ball in the corner of their mind—of his mind. The blunder brought a frown to his mouth and a snigger from Dragon, who yawned and drifted farther away. His presence became a mere hum in the background, much easier to ignore.
He breathed a sigh of relief. At last, he could relax and get some sleep, too.
Mumbling thanks and farewells to Finnr, he trudged through the camp back to the main bonfire, where Echo lay sleeping. Ava was already there, sitting cross-legged beside his dragon. She held a bowl in her hands and was frantically shoveling in food. Jerrid’s own stomach rumbled in protest.
She looked up as he approached and jabbed a wooden spoon at a second bowl sitting on a rock near the fire. “It’s good. And still warm.”
He gingerly sat beside her and scooped up the bowl. Soup with a few vegetables and chunks of tough-looking meat. But he wasn’t going to complain. It was better fare than he usually had when on assignment. It tasted good, too.
They devoured the meal in silence.
Then Ava lifted the water skin and drank deeply—she must have taken it from Echo’s pack. When she passed it to him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, he was surprised to find the skin was heavy. She must have refilled it somehow.
Or perhaps Brynja had been uncommonly kind and filled it for them.
As if sensing his thoughts, Ava cleared her throat. “The little lad filled it for us before his mother dragged him back to bed. That one doesn’t stay where he’s put, does he?”
Jerrid had to bark a laugh, although it came out a little bitter as he remembered how close to death the boy had nearly come because of his unwillingness to stay put.