Chapter 68
Sixty-Eight
Rymar
Aplan was made. The groups were divided out.
Zasen assured me he could handle the camp placement, but there was one thing we were all going to need if we wanted to make this work: shelter.
Thankfully, Lorsa had a small collection of durable and long-lasting tents in reserve for natural disasters or other emergencies.
So while the Reapers and the half of our militia still with Zasen set out to mark the campsites, I climbed into one of the carts carrying the wounded to our hospital.
The ride wasn't nearly as long as I'd feared, but I did nap a bit.
Not easy with the cart jostling me around, but I was starting to get used to living a little rough.
Eventually, we made it into Lorsa. Not surprisingly, Tamin hurried outside to see the carts drive past. Ayla's nephew waved and jumped in place, thrilled to see the horses, but Saveah saw me. A hand flew to her mouth, so I leaned over the edge.
"They're fine!" I called to her. "Just getting care for the wounded and some supplies."
And then we were too far past to say anything more, but Saveah looked relieved. I had a feeling I'd get a bit of that today - and all without enough sleep. Still, there were things to do. The first of which happened the moment we pulled in front of the hospital.
"We're going to need nurses to help the injured!" I called out. "Some can't walk. Others need sutures still. Nothing critical!"
A rush of bodies began pouring through the doors to come help. Most headed right for the wounded, but one turned to me. I recognized her grey skin even before I saw her face.
"Rymar!" Jeera snapped.
"They're all fine," I promised, holding open my arms for the hug I knew was coming.
Jeera slammed into me, squeezing hard. "We haven't heard anything since the last delivery of wounded."
"Because there hasn't been anything to say," I assured her. "Jeera, your brother's fine."
"Oh, I figured that much," she said with a grin. "Irrik's worried, though."
"Yeah, well, let him know we have dogs coming.
The simple version is we're going to make a wall of camps between Lorsa and the Moles.
Also the Reapers' camp and the moles. Like an arc, so they can't slip past us.
That means the camp is being emptied out, and some of the Reapers have litters they can't just send to the winter camp. "
"And you offered to take care of them here," she realized. "Okay. I actually think that will make him feel better. How's Ayla?"
"Vicious," I assured her. "She also has a second dog now. Oh, and if you happen to need some help in the kennels, Tamin would be good. He's learned all of Holly's commands, and I'm sure Saveah needs a break by now."
"Being a mom is hard," Jeera admitted. "Cerlik can never choose between screaming, sleeping, eating, or pooping. Sometimes a few of those at once."
"Ready to change your mind about adopting him?" I teased.
She laughed once. "Never in a million years. Also, a man becomes ten times sexier when he's holding a baby. I mean, just so you know."
"Only to a woman who likes children," I assured her. "I have a feeling Ayla would back away from that quickly, and I'm not about to ruin the good thing we have going."
"But is it going?" she asked.
I flashed her a devious little smirk. "Yep. Now, help the Reapers. I have something else to handle. Seems our informant wants a little information of his own."
"The Mole's still with Drozel," Jeera said, understanding exactly what I was talking about. "While you're there, take Lessa's spare room and sleep a bit. Your color's fading."
"You didn't have to call it out," I joked, clasping her arm. "But that sounds a hell of a lot better than going home to an empty house. Thanks for the idea."
She turned to the closest cart. I turned for the street.
The weather was nice this time of year, but I knew it wouldn't stay that way.
Autumn rains would start soon, and eventually winter snows.
That was why we needed the tents. Made from waxed wool and canvas, they were a lot better than nothing.
I was pretty sure we had some portable stoves as well.
Sadly, we'd probably need those things. Spending a few days in an emergency shelter was one thing, but this would be weeks. We had no clue when the Moles would come next. It wasn't likely they'd just decide to go back to a schedule, so this mess? It could last for months.
I was making a mental list of things Lorsa could provide our combined army - because this was a whole lot more than a militia now - as I headed across town. Food was going to need to be delivered. That meant we'd need regular trips with a cart or two. Wait, Irrik had a horse and cart of his own!
Slowly but surely, things were coming together. Well, they would once I spoke with Jerlis, but the first thing I had to do? I jogged up the steps to Drozel's home and thumped my fist against the door, then leaned my head against it, letting the wood hold me up.
The latch clicked first, giving me enough time to stand back up before the door opened, revealing a petite blonde girl on the other side. For one whole second, I was confused - and then I realized this was what Meri looked like when she wasn't pregnant.
"Hi, Meri," I said, offering an exhausted smile. "I need to talk to Drozel. Omden will do if he's not around."
"Who is it?" Lessa called from deeper inside the house.
"Ayla's man," Meri replied.
"Rymar," I corrected. "Just Rymar."
"Are you not her partner?" she asked. "I saw the torc."
"Come in, Rymar!" Lessa yelled.
So, without waiting for my answer, Meri opened the door a little more.
There, sitting on the couch in the main room was Sylis.
I knew it was him, but wow, the difference a little time made!
The man had the start of a beard on his jaw, and one that was nicely groomed.
His shirt was a brilliant blue that brought out his eyes, and his pants were natural linen, and loose.
Comfortable clothes, but also fashionable.
"Looks like these ladies have started dressing you," I said to him in greeting.
"English!" Lessa reminded me.
And I groaned. "Clothes, nice," I managed.
But Sylis's brow had creased, and he reached for a book beside him. Twice, he tried to shape words, but when he finally pushed them out, they weren't at all what I was expecting.
"My friends have helped me much." The words were in heavily accented Vestrian.
"Not bad," I said, moving to claim the chair beside him and keeping my words clear and slow. "Do you understand me?"
He nodded, but the kind that made me think he wasn't completely convinced of his answer. "Some."
Lessa walked over and clasped my shoulder, making me look at her. "Leave him alone, Rymar. This man has been tortured enough."
"I actually wanted to make sure he's an official refugee," I explained, glancing at Sylis again. "Tobias asked about you. I want to be able to tell him how you are."
The smallest hint of a smile flickered over the Mole's lips. "I am three."
"Free," Lessa corrected. "And Sylis, Rymar can understand English, but he speaks it as well as you speak Vestrian."
So Sylis shifted to his native language. "I didn't get an infection and my wound's mostly healed. I'm alive, sir, and appreciative."
I nodded, deciding that was about as good as I could hope for this soon. "Have you helped Drozel and Omden understand your people better?"
"Moles," Meri broke in. "They aren't our people, Rymar. Not anymore."
"No, they aren't," I agreed. "And how are you doing, Meri?"
A smile took over. "I have a girlfriend!"
Which made me spin to look at Lessa. "Oh? And?"
"And I'm the girlfriend," Lessa admitted, glancing away.
"Drozel?" I asked.
She rocked her head sideways as if mulling that over. "His too."
"His... girlfriend?"
This time, she canted her head and shrugged. "I'm not thinking about it too hard, so please don't push."
"Not pushing at all," I assured her as I stood. "But I am happy for you. All of you, Less." Then I hugged her hard. "So fucking happy. It feels good, doesn't it?"
"Which part?" she asked, leaning back to look at me.
"Finding someone who fits into the gaping wounds you feel like you just can't fill on your own."
Her tail sank to the ground and her shoulders relaxed. Slowly, she pulled in a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. I mean, that's the best description of this feeling I've ever heard..." But she paused, angling her head to give me a side-eye. "Wait. Ayla makes you feel like that? You?"
"Me," I agreed. "Zasen too, I think. Kanik in some ways." Then I leaned to look around her. "Where is Drozel?"
"He should be home any minute," she assured me. "Ommy's in the bath, but Droz has been trying to keep our limited militia organized."
"And work," Meri added. "He has a job, Mr. Rymar."
"Just Rymar," Lessa reminded her. "Meri, this man is one of my childhood friends." She draped an arm over my shoulder. "Just like you, Ayla, and Callah got into trouble together and broke some rules? Zasen, Rymar, and I did that too. That means he's a friend."
"And a guest," Meri pointed out, glancing over at Sylis pointedly.
"Just a friend," I promised as the door opened. "I might be here for a reason, but that's for a whole bunch of my friends."
"Rymar!" Drozel exclaimed, hearing my voice. "Well, I was wondering where you'd run off to. There's wounded at the hospital. I was going to get Omden and head over there."
"No need," I promised. "But you can get Omden because I'd like you to come see Jerlis with me."
"Why?" Drozel asked, standing a little taller like he was bracing for the worst. "Is it Sylis?"
"He needs official refugee status," I explained.
Drozel's eyes narrowed. "Already?"
"Already."
"He deserves it!" Meri snapped. "Drozel, he's helped you." And that slip of a woman stepped into the giant of a man without hesitation, craning her neck to look up at him. "Being a refugee means people can't hurt him without repercussions, and he can't learn Vestrian here - "
"He's a Mole," Drozel reminded her.
Meri shoved her fists onto her hips in the most womanly gesture of annoyance I could imagine. "I was too. I don't have a Dragon mother. I was just thrown out by them and saved by you. That's the same for Sylis! It's what makes Dragons so good! And why can't he be a refugee?"
"Because he's a man!" Drozel roared at her. "That's the part you're forgetting, Meri." And he stabbed a finger over at Sylis. "That man killed plenty of us. He was a hunter, not an abused wife with no power."
And while Sylis flinched from the gesture and the volume of this discussion, Meri didn't. The girl simply lifted her chin defiantly. The gesture was one I'd seen on Lessa many times, but I'd never expected Meri to use it!
"He carried back the dead!" she squealed. "He didn't kill anyone! He didn't eat the meat!"
"That doesn't matter," Drozel growled. "He was still a hunter, and the people here will not trust him as easily as they did you."
"Oh, so more like Ayla?" I asked. "Maybe they think killing him quickly will be good enough, not caring about all the things he knows - "
"And shared," Lessa added calmly.
Which was when Omden came into the room wearing a damp pair of pants and nothing else. "Everybody take a breath!" he ordered. "You too, Rymar."
We all paused, so he walked into the middle of us, placing himself so he could see everyone.
Water was dripping over his shoulders and down his pale chest. His scales shimmered in the afternoon light, and his pants were hanging impressively low.
I noticed all of that, but the reactions of the others in this room were why.
Meri didn't seem to care that Omden was basically half-dressed. The girl didn't even blush. Drozel ran his eyes over his partner's body blatantly. Lessa was watching Drozel with a hungry look that made me think she was having a few dirty thoughts.
Then there was Sylis. His face was stony and completely blank, but those pale eyes of his hung on a droplet sliding ever lower. The man was sitting on the couch, but he now had his hands in his lap, and I had a feeling I knew why.
"Now," Omden said, offering Sylis a little smile since the poor man didn't speak our language well enough to catch all of what had just been said, "Someone fill me in? Preferably in English?"
So Lessa said, "Rymar wants to make Sylis an official refugee. Drozel thinks that's a bad idea. Meri isn't going to take no for an answer. Sylis is confused because everyone keeps saying his name, he doesn't want to cause a problem, and he doesn't know what being a refugee would do for him."
"So explain it to him," I told her. Then I looked at Omden.
"I was going to take you with me, but I think you should stay here to hold down the fort.
" And finally, I turned to Meri. "But you?
I would love to have you come argue on his behalf.
I don't know him well enough to make the case like I did with Ayla, so will you help me? "
"And me?" Drozel asked.
I shrugged. "You can argue against me all you want. I'll still win. I always do." Then I hummed, taunting him a bit. "And I might have some militia stuff we need to talk about too. I figure I have a few hours left before I collapse from exhaustion, so how do you feel about going now?"
"Now's good," Drozel said. "Meri, you're going to need shoes. Ommy? Make enough for dinner so we can feed this asshole. Sylis?" He gave the man a little smile. "No one is mad at you."
"You are," Sylis said.
"No," Drozel promised. "I'm actually trying to protect you. I just do it differently from them. Oh, and while we're gone, someone explain to him how Rymar fits in?"
"Can do," Lessa said. "Now be nice to my girlfriend, Droz."
"A perfect gentleman," Drozel promised. "Be nice to Sylis, Less."
She smiled at the man. "Nah. I'm going to help him with his Vestrian so the next time this happens, he won't get confused." Then she flipped her hand, dismissing us from a home that wasn't even hers.