The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [183]
“About your woman? Is she young? I’ll bet she’s thin and harsh-tongued. She probably would starve you to keep her looks, just like a northern woman.” As she talked Barrabra ladled her bowl full of the spicy mixture from the casserole and began to fill my bowl.
“Here! You need some teekla.” Those words came from the other side, from the blond girl who looked like a younger and thinner version of Barrabra.
My eyes darted from one to the other. At that point, the bread tray was thrust under my nose, and I broke off a large chunk.
“Barrabra, he can’t have a woman. I’ll bet he didn’t even have a sister. Did you?”
“No,” I admitted, taking a spoonful of the spicy mixture and swallowing it.
“Ooooffff…” I swallowed again and grabbed for the mug. Hot? Spicy? Neither was an adequate description of the chili. It didn’t burn; it seared my throat all the way down.
“Not the teekla, silly. You eat the bread. That’s the way you do it,” advised the girl, her tone patient and condescending simultaneously.
Since the teekla, with its unknown fruity taste, hadn’t eased the fire in my throat and stomach, I chewed off a large corner of the chunk of bread, swallowing as evenly and quickly as I could.
With the back of my hand, I wiped the sudden tears from my eyes, but the burning had in fact diminished.
“…the post-rider said the madmen lost one of their wizards…”
“…Haylen’s cousin said a wizard freed him…”
“Ha! He didn’t want to admit he got careless! That’s all.”
“Some more chili, please.”
“When are you going to take me to Kyphrien, Shervan? You promised…”
Amid the friendly chaos, I took another spoonful of the chili, the stew, whatever it was—a much smaller spoonful, accompanied by a much larger mouthful of the heavy bread. The combination seemed to work. Only my forehead broke out in sweat this time.
“You never answered about your woman, wiz—…I mean, Lerris.”
I took a small sip from the mug. “Right now…I don’t have one. It’s not wise—”
“I told you, Barrabra! He doesn’t look like he knows women.”
In that, certainly, the girl was right.
“Hush, Cirla.” Barrabra held her hand up. “Not wise? Is it wise to be tempted by every pretty face?”
“I have a lot—” I struggled with both her question and another spoonful of chili.
She shook her head. “You men. You think that women are fragile, that only men can do the great deeds.”
“I never said that…”
“It is not what you said, but what you thought. Would you rather live in Kyphros under the autarch or under a madman like the Prefect of Gallos? Great deeds…phewwww…dreaming of great deeds only leads to great evils, and too many men dream of great deeds. Give me a solid man any day, one who loves an orchard.”
I thought about woodworking, but decided against arguing my case. She would have found something else to throw against men. Instead, I struggled with the chili and listened.
“…their soldiers are younger each season…”
“And so are ours. We’re all bleeding to death…”
“Pass the bread.”
“…we’ll stop in Meltosia. Even from there, it’s a good day’s ride.”
Barrabra stopped talking and kept exchanging glances with the girl Cirla. I ignored both, trying to pick up on what Shervan and the other two soldiers were discussing, but there were too many interruptions. So I ate, slowly and carefully, wondering exactly how badly my stomach and guts would torture me in the days ahead.
The midday meal ended as suddenly as it began.
“Enough!” announced Barrabra. “You all would sit here all afternoon if you could. The wizard must go to Kyphrien, and Saltos and Gerarra”—she pointed at the other two soldiers—“must take the watch station from my Nicklos and Carmen.”
“So soon?” pleaded the youngster.
“So late. Shush! Clear off the table. Out to the kitchen.”
I retreated to the stable with Shervan. “Your sister?”
“How did you guess?”
“A look, and the mention of her Nicklos.”
Shervan began to saddle Pabblo. I rummaged around and found what looked to be a short stack of grain cakes.
“If I could purchase some of these…”
“No…no…they are yours. We have fresh grain and