“I’m sure General Azaar will be over to explain it to you himself when he finds out about your displeasure at being kept in the dark,” said Weasel.
“Ha-bloody-ha. Hey, Halfbreed, isn’t that your girl?”
Halfbreed looked over and saw Rena, dark haired and beautiful as ever, walking into the camp, accompanied by two others. His heart skipped a beat. His mouth suddenly felt dry. He had not expected to ever see her again.
“She’s not my girl,” he said sourly.
Chapter Eight
Rik fought down the urge to slide away and hide out somewhere. He felt embarrassed and confused as well as afraid and angry. There was no reason he should feel this way. Rena was the one who had behaved badly. She was the one who had gone off with Lieutenant Sardec. Anyway, she was just a girl with whom he had a fling with for a couple of days a few months ago and had not seen since. He told himself all of these things, and none of them made the slightest bit of difference.
“I think she’s seen you, Halfbreed,” said Weasel, smirking. Rik remembered spending a long drunken evening whining to him about the business before the company had ventured into Deep Achenar. He had hoped that was forgotten. He should have remembered that in the Forager’s world nothing was ever forgotten. It was merely buried deep, to be dug up and used to make fun of you when needed.
“Go talk to the girl, Halfbreed,” said the Barbarian. “She looks as if she wants to talk to you.”
Rena smiled and waved and looked very happy, which rather surprised Rik, given the sullen circumstances under which they had last met.
“Probably wants something,” said Weasel. “Women always do.”
“Usually it's my manly body,” said the Barbarian. “And who can blame them?”
“Better talk to her before she throws herself at our Northern friend here,” said Weasel. “Sorry! Did I touch a raw nerve there?”
“You’re a nasty man,” said Rik.
“It was my upbringing,” Weasel said. “A cruel childhood followed by a lifetime of soldiering turned me into the miserable specimen I am today.”
“You say that as if you are proud of it.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Rena and her friends were walking towards them. If he didn’t want the lads standing around and eavesdropping so they could joke about it afterwards, he’d better intercept her.
Rik strode to meet her. His face felt made of cast iron. He could not force it to take on any other expression except disapproval. He had always had a glib tongue and a deceptive manner, a professional thief in Sorrow needed one, but right now, his nerves were stretched tight and he did not seem to be able to dissemble in the slightest.
He met the girl in the muddy avenue between the lines of tents. They stood looking at each other. Rena looked radiantly pretty but it was obvious she was holding the smile on her face by an effort of will. Her friends stood a little distance apart, their hands over their mouths, trying to stifle giggles. Their attitude annoyed him as much as his own friends had. He disliked having an audience in what should be private moments.
“I did not expect to see you again,” he said, cursing himself for the way the words sounded, stilted and formal and stupid but something deep within him seemed to want things that way, was determined to make everything as difficult as possible. He remembered such moments before with Sabena, his first real love, where he had wanted to say one thing, and yet an entirely different set of words had emerged from his mouth as though scripted by a stranger. He could tell from Rena’s expression that this was not what she had been hoping to hear.
“I thought I would see you here,” she said. “I mean, I hoped I would.”
“Why?” he asked. His voice was cold. He was locked into the role now. He could not have stopped himself even if he had wanted to. She looked away towards where the pavilions of the Terrarchs stood.
“I thought…” She stopped and chewed the lower part of her lip. She looked really very lovely. Rik saw that her friends had stopped giggling and were looking at him disapprovingly, belligerently even. Let them, he thought. He did not care what they thought. He did not care what anyone thought.
“You thought what?” he asked. Other soldiers were looking at them now. He knew why; three new girls in camp, without any male companions. Rik glanced at them, and something they saw in his face made the soldiers move on.
“I thought…I don’t know what I thought. I thought you might be glad to see me.” I am, he wanted to say. “I’m not,” his angry vindictive voice said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth and he saw the damage done, he regretted it.
“You’re a bastard,” she said.
“I know. I told you that.”
Regret flickered across her face. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I don’t care what you meant. I don’t care why you are here. Maybe you should try Lieutenant Sardec. I am sure he would be glad to see you.”
He turned and strode away.
“You really told her,” said the Barbarian. “She’s crying.”
“Piss off,” Rik told him.
Rik lay on his back and looked up at the stars. He lay on the soft hillside, far from the tents. He did not want to be with his friends at the moment. He wanted to be alone, to calm down. He could hear the sounds of the camp settling down for the night: soldiers arguing, children crying, women chatting. In the distance wyrms bellowed sleepily. From somewhere came the sound of a small group of Terrarch officers playing their complex and weirdly beautiful music. It did not help. He still seethed with rage: at Rena, at his stupid friends, at Sardec, at Asea, at the world.
He was surprised by the deep well of emotion he had found inside himself. It was like opening a magic door and discovering a whole new continent of anger and resentment. He realised how much he had been keeping these feelings on a leash over the past few months. He saw the rage that was in him still, against the world, the Terrarchs, the things that had killed Leon, and would most likely kill him. And he saw that, somehow, some connection had been forged between Rena and that world of emotion and betrayal. He had let his guard down for just one instant, he thought, and she had hurt him. And he was not going to allow that to happen again.
How was it that a woman he had known for such a short time had managed to get so completely under his skin?
She was out there now. He could find her if he wanted, and tell her exactly what he thought of her. His pointless futile rage demanded it of him, that he should find her and rend at her emotionally, as she had torn at him.
She had clearly expected him to behave differently. Did she think he was stupid? Did she really think he would want to be with her after what had happened?
A shadow fell on him. Rik looked up and was surprised to see Karim standing there. Either he was very distracted or Karim was very quiet, or both. The Southerner studied him for a moment. “It has cost me a great deal of effort to find you,” Karim said. His eyes caught the light like those of a dog. What had been done to this man, Rik wondered?
“You must have a good reason to keep you at it for so long. Would you like to share it with me?” He immediately regretted the flippant tone of his words. Karim gave the impression of being someone he did not want to get on the wrong side of.
“My mistress desires your company.” Karim’s words were polite. His tone was calm and yet somehow he managed to seem immensely threatening. Rik told himself it was just his imagination, but he knew it was not.
“Then perhaps you should lead me to her.”
“Follow me,” said Karim. Rik was glad of the distraction.
Sardec walked through the camp. After the battle and the meeting of the officers, he had a sense of letdown at being left with his own company. He did not want to go back to his tent. He did not want to try and sleep. He was not sure what he wanted. He was restless.