Bound by Blood and Sand
Page 48
“I wonder if we’ve come far enough to rest,” Tal said, his voice lilting up into something that was almost a question. He was leading the camel with one hand. The other reached up toward his neck, his fingers alighting on the back of his hood for a moment, where his ponytail had been. His hand jerked away quickly, dropping to his side.
“I think so,” Jae said, turning back toward the open desert to the west, away from Aredann, long out of sight though it was. “There’s so little life out here. I’ll be able to feel anyone coming.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d check,” Tal said.
“Let’s settle first,” Jae said. “I don’t want to be in the open when the sun comes up.”
Elan spotted a boulder a little way off. It wasn’t enormous, but hopefully it would be big enough to cast a shadow. His body protested as they walked toward it, limbs exhausted from overuse, but he’d be glad to have the shade during the day. Even though the tent they’d brought was designed to keep as much heat out as it could, it would still get cursed hot.
The boulder came up to his rib cage and was wider than it was high. He and Tal unloaded the tent, which sent more jolts of pain across his chest and shoulder. He grimaced but didn’t say anything—it was no worse than Jae and Tal had dealt with their whole lives.
Elan had never actually put a tent up himself before, but he was the only one who had even seen what it was supposed to look like, so when Tal and Jae both gave him questioning looks, he did his best. It took all three of them to figure it out—there were cut wooden poles of different lengths that tied to the fabric, and they had to experiment to figure out which pole tied where. In the end, Elan wasn’t actually sure they got it right. It was lower to the ground than he expected, and it looked like a strong gust would knock it over. It would have to do, though, because the sun was creeping up and exhaustion was creeping in.
Tal tied the camel outside, and they all filled their water skins, then crawled in. The sleeping mats were thin, barely protecting them from the sandy desert floor, and there was just enough room for them to set up shoulder to shoulder. Elan laid his mat out to one side, with Tal between him and Jae.
Elan groaned as he sat, amazed at how silent both Tal and Jae were. They were more used to pain and physical labor, he knew, but he doubted they’d been prepared for hours of a forced march like this. People said “as quiet as the Closest” for a reason, and a lifetime of silence would have to be a hard habit to break.
Tal pulled off his boots in jerky, awkward motions, and blanched at the sight of his own feet. They were blistered, bloody, and raw. “Are you all right?” Elan asked.
“It hurts,” Tal answered.
“Don’t ask him questions,” Jae said, shucking off her own boots. Her feet were in bad shape, too. “It’s rude.”
“Oh,” Elan said. “I—I didn’t know that.”
Tal shrugged a little. “I don’t mind all that much. But I am compelled to answer—that’s why it’s rude. To force a Closest like that.”
“Oh,” Elan said again. That made sense, and he’d never even thought about it.
“Well, no harm done.” Tal gave him a friendly smile and began digging through one of the packs. “We’ve never been anything but barefoot.”
Of course. Elan looked away as he lowered his hood and shrugged off the thick travel robe. He’d grown up wearing sandals and travel boots. His feet ached from the long walk, but the calluses on his heels had protected him from blisters. But the Closest had been given that name because they went barefoot; they were the closest to the land they were bound to work. Tal grabbed clean rags from the bag and dampened them with water. Without even asking, he reached for Jae’s feet first and dabbed the blood off.
After they’d finished cleaning their feet and wrapping them in gauze, Tal turned to Elan. “Let me see your wound. Running all night can’t have been good for it.”
Elan shook his head. “It’s fine.”
Tal glanced over at Jae, and Elan had the disconcerting feeling that they were having a conversation without ever speaking a single word. Finally Tal said, “You’re not fine; you were stabbed. It’ll get infected if we don’t take care of it.”
Elan hesitated. He didn’t know what it would look like and didn’t want them to have to deal with it. But the burn could get infected just as easily as a stab wound, so finally he stripped off his shirt. Jae looked away, pulling her knees to her chest and staring down at the sand and her mat, but Tal scooted closer and began peeling away Elan’s clumsily tied bandages.
“You didn’t stab me,” Elan said uselessly as Tal gaped. Jae looked up sharply, and her eyes went wide.
“I don’t understand,” Tal said, sinking back to get a better view.
Elan turned away, uncomfortable with their scrutiny. His rib cage felt tight with anxiety as he explained, “It’s the brand from my vows.”
Jae frowned, and Tal said, “Lady Shirrad has one, too. But…”
“All Avowed do,” Elan explained. “They do it when you say your vows, and the vows protect you. It doesn’t hurt at all, and it heals instantly. But…”
“But when you were disavowed, the magic left your body,” Jae said. “So the burn reappeared.”
“Oh,” Elan said. He hadn’t thought about it in detail; all he’d known was that it hurt, so he’d imagined it was some sort of punishment for vow breaking. Jae’s idea made more sense.
“So it’ll heal,” Tal said.
“With time,” Jae confirmed.
“Then I’ll clean it.” Tal reached for the damp rags again. “While I do that, Jae, I’d love to know if you can sense anyone coming from Aredann.”
Elan did his best to hold still as Tal carefully pressed the rag against his skin. It was cool and damp, but the pressure had Elan gritting his teeth against the pain. Tal gave him a sympathetic look, but he didn’t say anything. Elan didn’t, either, just waited for it to be done and for Tal to rewrap the bandages.
By the time Tal had finished, Jae had crossed her legs and shut her eyes, and her body was now perfectly still. She didn’t respond when Tal pressed a water skin into Elan’s hands, a silent order to drink. That would help the burn, and Elan was thirsty. As he finished drinking, Jae opened her eyes again.
“I think so,” Jae said, turning back toward the open desert to the west, away from Aredann, long out of sight though it was. “There’s so little life out here. I’ll be able to feel anyone coming.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d check,” Tal said.
“Let’s settle first,” Jae said. “I don’t want to be in the open when the sun comes up.”
Elan spotted a boulder a little way off. It wasn’t enormous, but hopefully it would be big enough to cast a shadow. His body protested as they walked toward it, limbs exhausted from overuse, but he’d be glad to have the shade during the day. Even though the tent they’d brought was designed to keep as much heat out as it could, it would still get cursed hot.
The boulder came up to his rib cage and was wider than it was high. He and Tal unloaded the tent, which sent more jolts of pain across his chest and shoulder. He grimaced but didn’t say anything—it was no worse than Jae and Tal had dealt with their whole lives.
Elan had never actually put a tent up himself before, but he was the only one who had even seen what it was supposed to look like, so when Tal and Jae both gave him questioning looks, he did his best. It took all three of them to figure it out—there were cut wooden poles of different lengths that tied to the fabric, and they had to experiment to figure out which pole tied where. In the end, Elan wasn’t actually sure they got it right. It was lower to the ground than he expected, and it looked like a strong gust would knock it over. It would have to do, though, because the sun was creeping up and exhaustion was creeping in.
Tal tied the camel outside, and they all filled their water skins, then crawled in. The sleeping mats were thin, barely protecting them from the sandy desert floor, and there was just enough room for them to set up shoulder to shoulder. Elan laid his mat out to one side, with Tal between him and Jae.
Elan groaned as he sat, amazed at how silent both Tal and Jae were. They were more used to pain and physical labor, he knew, but he doubted they’d been prepared for hours of a forced march like this. People said “as quiet as the Closest” for a reason, and a lifetime of silence would have to be a hard habit to break.
Tal pulled off his boots in jerky, awkward motions, and blanched at the sight of his own feet. They were blistered, bloody, and raw. “Are you all right?” Elan asked.
“It hurts,” Tal answered.
“Don’t ask him questions,” Jae said, shucking off her own boots. Her feet were in bad shape, too. “It’s rude.”
“Oh,” Elan said. “I—I didn’t know that.”
Tal shrugged a little. “I don’t mind all that much. But I am compelled to answer—that’s why it’s rude. To force a Closest like that.”
“Oh,” Elan said again. That made sense, and he’d never even thought about it.
“Well, no harm done.” Tal gave him a friendly smile and began digging through one of the packs. “We’ve never been anything but barefoot.”
Of course. Elan looked away as he lowered his hood and shrugged off the thick travel robe. He’d grown up wearing sandals and travel boots. His feet ached from the long walk, but the calluses on his heels had protected him from blisters. But the Closest had been given that name because they went barefoot; they were the closest to the land they were bound to work. Tal grabbed clean rags from the bag and dampened them with water. Without even asking, he reached for Jae’s feet first and dabbed the blood off.
After they’d finished cleaning their feet and wrapping them in gauze, Tal turned to Elan. “Let me see your wound. Running all night can’t have been good for it.”
Elan shook his head. “It’s fine.”
Tal glanced over at Jae, and Elan had the disconcerting feeling that they were having a conversation without ever speaking a single word. Finally Tal said, “You’re not fine; you were stabbed. It’ll get infected if we don’t take care of it.”
Elan hesitated. He didn’t know what it would look like and didn’t want them to have to deal with it. But the burn could get infected just as easily as a stab wound, so finally he stripped off his shirt. Jae looked away, pulling her knees to her chest and staring down at the sand and her mat, but Tal scooted closer and began peeling away Elan’s clumsily tied bandages.
“You didn’t stab me,” Elan said uselessly as Tal gaped. Jae looked up sharply, and her eyes went wide.
“I don’t understand,” Tal said, sinking back to get a better view.
Elan turned away, uncomfortable with their scrutiny. His rib cage felt tight with anxiety as he explained, “It’s the brand from my vows.”
Jae frowned, and Tal said, “Lady Shirrad has one, too. But…”
“All Avowed do,” Elan explained. “They do it when you say your vows, and the vows protect you. It doesn’t hurt at all, and it heals instantly. But…”
“But when you were disavowed, the magic left your body,” Jae said. “So the burn reappeared.”
“Oh,” Elan said. He hadn’t thought about it in detail; all he’d known was that it hurt, so he’d imagined it was some sort of punishment for vow breaking. Jae’s idea made more sense.
“So it’ll heal,” Tal said.
“With time,” Jae confirmed.
“Then I’ll clean it.” Tal reached for the damp rags again. “While I do that, Jae, I’d love to know if you can sense anyone coming from Aredann.”
Elan did his best to hold still as Tal carefully pressed the rag against his skin. It was cool and damp, but the pressure had Elan gritting his teeth against the pain. Tal gave him a sympathetic look, but he didn’t say anything. Elan didn’t, either, just waited for it to be done and for Tal to rewrap the bandages.
By the time Tal had finished, Jae had crossed her legs and shut her eyes, and her body was now perfectly still. She didn’t respond when Tal pressed a water skin into Elan’s hands, a silent order to drink. That would help the burn, and Elan was thirsty. As he finished drinking, Jae opened her eyes again.
