Under the Willow Root

Chapter 51

Our respite over much too soon, but the rest did us all a world of good. I don't know what Luca and Bard were doing to recharge, but everyone is much less grouchy, at least for the first few hours. We keep moving well past midnight, and by the time we stop to sleep everyone is pissy and frustrated.

Ismeni complains about having to dig the latrine hole even though it's her turn. Luca snaps at Sadra for getting up to use the latrine hole four times before finally settling down so he can cast protective wards around the camp. Bard glares at everyone and I make weird, passive aggressive observations about all of it that no one pays attention to and which I realize sound completely ridiculous.

We continue on like this for three more days, walking until we drop and only sleeping a few hours, sometimes at night and sometimes during the day. I think Ismeni has to be doing something Light-wise to her feet to keep them intact because there's no way she can be managing this truly barefoot.

When we suddenly find ourselves on a road, I'm confused. When we trudge into a village, I think at first I'm imagining it. It's so busy--and loud, which is a shock after the silence of the woods. Worse, everyone is so happy and peppy. To my miserable, exhausted mind, it seems just wrong. And offensive.

"The Festival of the Sun begins tonight," Bard tells us in a low voice. We enter what I think is an inn. "I wanted to make sure we got here in time. People notice strangers in these parts, but not so much on feast days."

I grunt in reply and drop into a chair to wait while he does whatever he needs to do. Sadra and Ismeni and Luca all join me around the table. A serving girl comes by to ask what we want, but we're all too tired to eat anything. Which is just as well, because Bard comes to get us and take us to our room--singular. Also bed, singular.

But I don't care. None of us do. We all just throw our packs down and pile onto the bed and pass out. I wake up just before sunset with Ismeni's hand squishing my face into the headboard. I push her hand away, noting with some satisfaction that I've been drooling all over it. Serves her right.

I get up and wander down to the common room, where delicious smells are thick in the air. Sadra and Bard are already at a table, digging into a loaf of bread and soft cheese. I sit down and snatch a hunk for myself. Around big mouthfuls, I ask what our plan is. Bard informs me that he means to rest here for the night and a good portion of the morning before we move on. I'm glad. I'm more than ready for a break.

"Food is on the way," Bard says. "I'll be back. I'm going to go see the landlady about gear for Ismeni. One of you might go wake her up. Ismeni, I mean."

Sadra and I look at each other and then at the still-steaming loaf of bread. Maybe in a little bit. I stuff another oversized chunk of bread in my mouth without bothering to spread any cheese on it and then cram the cheese in after.

"That is disgusting," Sadra observes with her mouth full. Crumbs tumble from her lips as she speaks. "Wholly undignified."

She tries to grin around the food in her mouth, revealing several lumps of gooey mush stuck to her teeth. I snort with laughter and nearly choke on my own oversized mouthful. Sadra pounds me helpfully on the back, stopping abruptly as Luca joins us. He drops into his chair and stares at the table.

"Pretty Girl and Kirit are outside," he tells the tabletop. "The innkeeper wouldn't let them in. They could do with some company."

Clearly this is for my benefit. I do feel guilty for not even thinking about them before falling asleep, but this whole cold shoulder, quasi silent treatment is really getting on my nerves. What is his problem? I thought I was the wronged party here. Then I remember that his brother died trying to do right by people like me. I push the thought aside. I never asked Miocostin to do that. In fact, I asked him not to.