Exile's Honor

He took them out, and shoved the pan of water over to Kantor's side of the tent. Taking the cover off the platter explained why Kantor had hoped he'd share.

Selenay had asked for the impossible, gotten it, and had seen to it that he got some of the cook's largesse. Perfect for the heavy weather and a failing appetite were two sallats, a savory one and a sweet, the former a bed of greens with cheese, bits of chicken, fragrant herbs and spiced vinegar, the latter of chopped fresh fruit and nuts, with honey-sweetened cream. How had she known he'd like such things, too?

:Piff. She asked me via Caryo, of course; she doesn't need being told something twice. I'd like some of that cress, please, and some spinach.:

With the empty platter and cup left outside his tent door, he stretched out along his bedroll, and listened to the sounds of the camp. He had been a soldier for too long not to be able to sleep when he needed to, but he had also been a soldier for too long not to be able to assess the mood of the camp just from the night noises.

Tonight, he sensed mostly weariness and relief. They had been here long enough, and, through work and time, what had been terrible anguish had muted to bearable sorrow. Now it was more than time to go home and take up their lives again. Except, perhaps, for Selenay, the time for grief was over, and the time to move on had come.

And that was as it should be.

When morning came, he was barely able to get dressed and out of his tent before Selenay's servants swarmed all over it. Her tent had already been struck, and she was finishing a strong cup of chava and a buttered roll while in her saddle, as he escaped from the collapsing tent still tying the laces at the collar and cuffs of his shirt.

One of the 'pages' handed him a similar cup and roll and waited, impatiently, for the empty cup. Another brought Kantor a bucket of grain; the Companion immediately plunged his nose into it and began his own breakfast. Prudently, Alberich ate and drank before getting into the saddle; there wasn't a chance he'd be given a chance to finish unless he did.

The chava wasn't scalding hot, as he had feared it might be, but the heavy admixture of cream and sugar, and the color, like thin mud, warned him that it was probably from the bottom of the pot.

It was; even with the help of cream and sweetening, it nearly made his hair stand on end. But it certainly woke him up. He handed the empty cup to the page, who took it and vanished; the second whisked off the bucket the moment Kantor lifted his head from it.

All around them, tents were falling in the thin gray light of predawn. Selenay gave her cup to a page just as Ylsa and Keren walked their Companions into what had been the royal enclosure. Alberich was in the saddle a moment later.

Selenay looked around at the vanishing camp. 'Is breaking camp always like this?' she asked, a little dazed.

'A camp, we Sunsguard seldom had,' Alberich admitted.

'I got the impression last night that everyone was pretty impatient to be out of here. But don't take my word for it,' Keren shrugged. 'I don't usually serve with the army.'

'That speech you should make before we leave, I fear,' Alberich told Selenay in an undertone. 'But it will be the last, until Haven we reach. This, I can promise.'

She grimaced, but nodded. 'I hope you two know where I'm supposed to be?' she asked the other two.

'That's why we're here,' Visa told her. 'They sent us to fetch you.'

Selenay gestured broadly with one hand. 'Well, lead on, since you know where we're going.'

The procession—for procession it would be, even when it wasn't going through a village—had already begun to form up on the road. Keren and Ylsa went straight to the front of it, where the rest of Selenay's guards were waiting. The funeral wagon would not be immediately behind her, but would be the first of the string of wagons.

Bard Lellian, in charge of the ceremonial part of the journey, came up and introduced himself.

'Majesty, I have devised something I hope will meet with your approval,' he told Selenay, ignoring the rest of them in a way that told Alberich that his single-minded focus was due to anxiety, not an intention to slight them. 'It will not be the ordeal that stopping for speeches would have been. You will merely have to drop back and take your place on foot behind the coffin when we reach any sort of town, along with the rest of the notables who have been deemed of high enough rank to follow you afoot. That is all; simply follow afoot, and—do whatever you feel impelled to do.'

Selenay's relief at the simplicity of the arrangements was obvious.