Healer of Sakkara

Chapter 21 - Faith

No one argued, and for some time afterward, no one spoke again.

-✵-

The lake was clean and clear, fed by little streams running down from the mountains' slopes. They designated an area at the lower end, where the lake drained into a small river, for bathing, and gathered water for cooking and drinking from the upper side.

After quenching his thirst, Galen lay down in a flat, sandy place, his body so glad of rest he might as well have lain on a feather bed, and slipped into a dreamless state.

Sev roused him near sunset, and he saw the others had a fire going with Behn's pot over it, though Behn himself still dozed.

"Can you stand?" Sev asked, extending his hand to help Galen up.

Still a little dazed, Galen ignored the offer and got to his feet, then nearly fell. Sev steadied him, slipping an arm around his back.

"Let's get some food in you. It should be just about ready."

Galen briefly considered resisting, but found he lacked the strength.

Sev guided him towards the fire, where Obi, Rea, and Triss had built a ring of stones to contain a bright blaze and gathered several logs and large flat rocks to serve as benches and seats.

Galen sat on a log-bench and Sev sat at his side; Obi served them each a small bowl of mixed rice and beans, seasoned with salt and dried herbs.

"Nothing fancy, I'm afraid," he said quietly. "But filling."

Galen lifted a heaping spoonful towards his mouth, but Obi stopped him.

"It's hot," he said, apologetically. "Eat slowly. There's plenty to be had."

Galen obeyed and blew carefully on the spoon before conveying it to his mouth.

Obi was right: it was plain fare, but it didn't matter. It was delicious, and Galen's bowl was empty before he knew it.

"You're sure there's enough?" Galen asked, as Obi served him a second helping.

Obi nodded. His blond beard and curling hair were clean, and his hands free of grime, the bitten one wrapped in a fresh bandage. It seemed the others had washed already, and Galen looked self-consciously at his own dirt-encrusted nails.

"I made plenty," Obi said. "Enough for everyone to have three bowls. And..." He looked away and bit his lip, his eyes slightly red. "Well, I made enough for everyone."

It took Galen a moment to realize that he meant he'd made Iksthanis's portion, too.

"Where is Zenír?" Sev asked in an undertone. "Has he eaten?"

Obi shook his head. "He's bathing."

Sev rose, but Obi rested a hand on his shoulder and kept him in his seat.

"Triss is keeping an eye on him," he said. "He's... Well, he's not 'fine,' but he's well enough, for the moment. You can't watch out for all of us all the time, Sev. You need to take care of yourself, too."

A dark expression flickered across Sevhalim's pale features, and he looked away.

"It is a leader's duty to protect those who follow him," he said. "I should have made Iksthanis go first. The log-bridge would have held him, and if the rest of us had taken care—"

"You're wrong."

Everyone looked up as Zenír joined them, his hair damp with water and his face scrubbed clean. He took a deep breath before continuing and spoke in Sev's direction. Most of the men sported several weeks' growth of beard by now, but Zenir's face remained smooth and hairless, as did Galen's. Pyrran men and women seldom grew body hair, and Galen wondered if he and Zenír might have that ancestry in common.