“Ate hours ago,” Gavril said, taking another sip at his flask. His gaze shifted to the small fire.
Taniel finished the meal and fumbled about for his canteen. Gavril offered his flask again and Taniel took it. The rum burned the back of his throat, leaving a slightly sweet aftertaste. “Where’d you get that scar?”
Gavril’s eyebrows rose for a moment, then he looked down to his uncovered wrist. A pink line stretched across his broad forearm and ended on the back of his hand. He shook the sleeve of his jacket down to cover it. “You’re too hard on your old man,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“He’s a tough old bastard, but he has tried to be a good father.”
“That’s really none of your damn business.” Taniel felt the color rise in his cheeks.
Gavril held up his hands in peace. “Sorry, sorry. Just making an observation.”
They sat in silence for several minutes while Taniel let his anger cool. The pleasant feeling of a full belly made his eyelids droop and he reached for the hope that maybe he would actually get some rest.
“You were on campaign with him?” Taniel asked. “In Kez? Caught behind the lines?”
“Aye,” Gavril said.
“Was it bad?”
Gavril was silent for several moments. Taniel watched the side of his face, realizing only now that Gavril weighed at least two stone less than he had all those months ago on South Pike. There was a new scar on his right cheek, faded in a way that spoke of healing sorcery, and the hint of healed bruises around both eyes.
“It was,” Gavril finally answered. “Killing the horses for food. Being dogged by Kez cuirassiers. Gathering up powder and food from the men so we could ration it back out wisely. I had to shoot a man because it was found he had stolen two weeks’ worth of rations.”
It sounded like stories Taniel had heard from his father about the Gurlish campaigns. Except those were decades ago, half a world away. This had just happened in the very heart of the Nine. “Tamas put you in command?”
Gavril shrugged his big shoulders. “Sure. He needed someone like me. You see the worst of humanity up on the Mountainwatch. Convicts and debtors, thieves and fools. Pit, you remember. Not Adro’s finest, by a long stretch. If I could keep that lot in line, I could keep Tamas’s infantry going with one hand and manage the scouts and cavalry with the other.”
“You’d never boast about it, though,” Taniel said with a snort.
“A boast is something you have to back up with your fist.” Gavril raised one ham-sized hand. “I could let the results do the talking, there.” His sleeve fell, revealing once again the long scar. Gavril examined it for a moment, then said, “I got this from the Kez. They were wearing Adran blues and I was ranging too far ahead of the main army. They caught me, beat the shit out of me, and took me to Alvation. That’s where they really went to work on me.”
He raised his shirt to show several other scars across his belly. “Snapped my wrist when I wouldn’t give them the information they wanted. The bone sheared clear through the skin. God, I haven’t screamed like that since my leg was run over by a wagon as a boy.”
“Alvation?” Taniel asked. He’d spent just a little time with Olem, Tamas’s bodyguard, on their way to the parley, and Olem had told him some things about the Seventh and Ninth’s disastrous trek through Kez and Deliv. “This just happened?”
“The Deliv Privileged healers are good at their craft. I told them to leave the scars. Gives me more stories to tell.” He paused. “I heard about Bo. If they can get him to the Deliv healers in time, he’ll come out practically unharmed.”
Not with his leg practically burned off, he wouldn’t. And that was a big “if.” Taniel felt his voice catch in his throat. “Don’t you blame Tamas?”
“For what?” Gavril belched loudly and took another swig from his flask.
“For getting you caught by the Kez. You were tortured.”
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Gavril said, a darkness passing across his face. “The only one who got me caught by the Kez was me. And when I did, Tamas came for me. He pushed his men through the pit and made a deal with an old, spurned lover to get me back. Boy, I’ve spurned a few lovers, and let me tell you, making good with one of them can be harder than moving a mountain. Especially for a man as proud as Tamas.”
Taniel was surprised at the outburst. He opened his mouth, but Gavril cut him off.
“I’ve blamed Tamas for a lot of things in my lifetime. He’s guilty of some of them, but as far as the very worst – well, I’ll just say he’s innocent. Besides, getting caught by the Kez allowed me one thing I thought I’d never get the chance to do.”
“What’s that?”
“I spit in the face of the man who murdered my sister.”
The crack of a twig brought Taniel’s attention around to a shape in the darkness. Squinting at it, he realized that his powder trance was starting to wear off. A moment later, Vlora stepped into the firelight.
“Can I have a minute, Gavril?” she asked quietly.
Gavril gave a mighty sigh and climbed to his feet. “Have to take a piss anyway,” he muttered, lumbering off into the darkness.
Vlora did not take Gavril’s place, instead settling opposite Taniel across the small fire. Taniel stared into the flames. He could feel her gaze upon him, prickling the back of his mind like a sixth sense. The feeling brought back memories of thin sheets and shadowed bedrooms, and he felt his cheeks begin to warm in spite of himself.
He took a twig and poked at the fire. “What do you want?”
“To talk,” she answered softly.
“Well,” he grunted, “go ahead.”
“I…”
“Why are you here?” Taniel demanded, cutting her off. The urge to be off, riding fast after Ka-poel, had finally found its outlet, and his words came out much louder than intended. Heads were raised at the other small campfires. “Why,” he asked, tempering his voice, “do you insist on haunting me?”
“Haunting you?” Vlora was taken aback. “I’m here to help you.”
“Why? Did Tamas send you? No, I think not. He would have wanted you for the next battle with the Kez. You and I are his best marksmen and he wouldn’t have sent you away at a critical time like this.”
“I asked to come.”
Taniel leaned forward until he felt the heat of the fire on his face. “Why?” Were those unshed tears in her eyes? It didn’t matter. He needed an answer. Everything else in his small world seemed unimportant suddenly. “We’ve been friends since we were kids. We were lovers. You pulled out my heart and tossed it on the ground.” He gestured violently. “Sprinkled some salt on it and cooked it over a fire!” He thought he heard a chuckle from the woods, but he paid it no heed. “Why are you mocking me like this?”
Vlora’s face seemed to melt and re-form, the sorrow dripping off and being replaced by steely-eyed determination. Her jaw clenched and her cheeks seemed to tighten, and he could sense the fight in her the way an old sailor can sense a coming storm.
“You think I wanted to be left alone for two years? Until that night you found me, I’d never had a lover but you. Bo kissed me once, when we were young, but I didn’t let it go farther than that.”
“He what?” Taniel felt like he was riding a horse that had just thrown a shoe.
She talked over his agitation. “I took no other lover, but I heard the rumors. Taniel Two-Shot. Hero of the Fatrastan War for Independence. Killing Kez Privileged left and right. Wooing hundreds of women. Tended night and day by a little savage sorceress.”
“I was never unfaithful.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Lies! I saw you in the arms of another man. With my own eyes!”
“I’m sorry!”
Taniel surged forward, carried halfway across the fire by his own fury, then pulled up short. “What?”
Vlora’s nostrils flared. “That’s the third time I’ve tried to tell you. It was a horrid mistake. You going to Fatrasta. Me taking that prig to bed. Mistake after mistake after mistake.”