“Humans eat the foulest things,” she declared.
Not one to let perfectly good gruel go to waste, Serovek scooped up the bowl and sat down next to her, where he proceeded to wolf down the bowl's contents, much to her undisguised revulsion. He set the bowl down between his feet and winked at Anhuset. “You missed out,” he said. “The boat's cook makes a fine porridge.”
“By all means,” she said in her driest tones. “Help yourself.” She nodded toward the group clustered at the stern. “I see you advised them about your plan. What did they say?”
Serovek shrugged. “The usual arguments about traveling in a larger group, reluctance for playing the messenger.” He chuckled. “I think they've convinced themselves we'll be babes among fiends without them to guard us.”
“I'm surprised one of them didn't consider me a fiend.” She waved one clawed hand at him.
“Ogran was the first to suggest you deliver your own message to Saggara.”
“You'll forgive me if I don't find that surprising.” The yellow of her eyes swirled in countless shades from burnished gold to daffodil, mesmerizing Serovek. “I pity whoever has to pair with him on the trip, though not enough to suggest you have him stay with us.”
“The rest are used to him. They'll just ignore his sourness as usual.”
A frown line creased her brow. “Margrave, would you grant a request?”
His eyebrows rose. This was unusual coming from Anhuset. “Of course.”
“Send Ogran to High Salure. I'll have my message for Brishen prepared for when we split up, but I want someone other than him to deliver it.”
The thought had crossed his mind as well. He saw no reason for Ogran to shirk his duty were he one of the pair chosen to travel to Saggara, but if it eased Anhuset's mind to assign the task to someone else, Serovek had no issue. “As you wish. You may have to scrounge for parchment. I doubt the captain keeps a stock on-hand, but it won't hurt to ask. If there's none to be had, decide what you want to tell Brishen and repeat it to the men. Between the two of them, they'll memorize and relay it.”
Her deepening frown told him she wasn't thrilled at the second choice, but their options were limited, and the next village or town near a boat landing was another day's travel, and another delay if they waited to buy writing supplies before sending messengers to their destinations.
Anhuset finally nodded. “I'll keep it short either way.” She eyed the empty bowl, then Serovek. “I can't believe you ate all of that vile slop.”
He grinned. “And it was my second bowl.” She shuddered. “If you threaten the cook enough, he might be willing to part with some of the fish he's saved for the midday meal.”
“I'm not that hungry to go through the trouble.” The brief touch of her claws on his arm sent a pleasurable tingle across his skin. “I thank you for letting me sleep, though you exaggerated how I would have reacted to Ogran waking me.”
“I wondered if you were awake.” He'd suspected as much. Exhausted or not, she'd never be one to sleep deeply. “And I disagree. Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't have eaten his liver if he'd shoved his foot in your back to wake you.”
She wrinkled her nose, eyes glowing bright in the hood's darkness. “I don't want to look in your eye. It moves too much and is strange.” The tiniest smile played along her lips. “I've no doubt Ogran's liver would have tasted a lot better than that gruel you just shoved down your gullet.”
The crew and his men all turned toward Serovek at his laughter, some with puzzled looks, others like Erostis with a considered scrutiny that moved from him to Anhuset and back again. Serovek knew what they thought. What about this taciturn, intimidating Kai woman fascinated him so?
Everything.
While Anhuset composed her message, he spent the time reviewing the map he'd brought with him of the Lobak valley. The wagon and its precious cargo precluded leaving the roads for a shortcut through rougher country. Several of the paths marked on the map were hardly more than drover roads, and they'd be lucky if they didn't have to stop more than once to repair a broken wheel. Ogran, who hailed from this part of the Beladine hinterlands, had assured him before their trip that the wagon could make it.
“Some spots will rattle your brains, especially if the local folk have driven cattle or sheep through after a hard rain and it's dried since. We'll just have to go slow and nurse the wagon along. Once we cross the Dulgrada bridge, we'll be on a main road that's nearly as smooth as a royal courtesan's backside.”
Serovek was more worried about the bridge than the roads. The Dulgrada was a spandrel bridge instead of one of the more numerous suspension bridges. Sturdy, wide and built to provide safe passage for foot and transport traffic over the narrow but deep ravine that marked entry into the Lobak Valley, it provided a shorter, less circuitous route to the monastery. A safer one too where Chamtivos wasn't causing trouble. Serovek hoped the map, which showed the bridge, was still current, and they'd have an easy crossing.
By the time they'd reached the next landing, Ardwin, Weson, Ogran, and Jannir had their gear packed and had negotiated among themselves as to who would return to High Salure and who would travel to Saggara. Serovek had rightly guessed Ogran wouldn't volunteer to travel into Kai territory when another choice was available to him. Anhuset would be satisfied.
The four men disembarked, Jannir carrying the note Anhuset had written for the Khaskem on a ragged piece of parchment she'd bought from the captain for a sum equal to highway robbery.
With their numbers reduced to four and Megiddo for the remainder of the journey, and most of their road rations sent with the others, they were low on supplies. Feeling generous after making a nice profit on a bit of blank parchment and some ink, the captain gave them some helpful information.
“When you leave, go a half league west. It'll take you off your path a small ways, but there's a village with a decent market where you can purchase more provisions. I'll give you directions and the names of the better vendors.”
“Let's hope they sell onions cheaper than you sell parchment,” Anhuset said in the driest voice.
Once the captain left, Serovek tutted and gave a sigh of mock disapproval. “Not much in the way of diplomacy there, firefly woman.”
She shrugged and set to work packing the last of her satchels in preparation for disembarking. “I let him rob me and didn't eat him. That's diplomacy.”
He thanked the gods for the blessing of having her here. Her acerbic remarks made him laugh, made this journey less grim, and the dangers not so burdensome. She was good for his soul. He would miss her mightily when they parted ways at High Salure and she returned to Saggara.
It didn't take long after they traded the river and barge for land and horseback to reach the village the boat captain recommended. A small but bustling place acting as a hub for other smaller villages, the center square was crowded with people and stalls selling everyday goods and produce. What luxury items there might have been Serovek couldn't guess. His interest was only on resupplying their provisions to last until they reached the monastery.
He and Erostis were the only ones to travel into the village itself. Anhuset stayed with Klanek and the wagon just outside of the settlement. Before they'd left, Serovek asked her if she wanted him to bring back any specific fruit or treat for her. She'd shaken her head. “I'll eat whatever is there.” She scowled the moment the words left her lips. Before Serovek could tease about her statement, she pointed a finger at him. “No maggot potato things. I might as well eat dirt. It'll taste better.”