to wipe his mouth with. “Well, I’m not tired any more, but please don’t ever do that again. I think I’d rather die.”
It was then that Will realized he hadn’t felt the nausea himself. He had severed the link as soon as it had begun, but even before then it hadn’t affected him. That’s probably the safest way for me to disable someone, he decided. “I won’t do it again,” he said, “but I’d like to try—”
Tiny held up one hand. “No. I’m done. You’ll have to find another test subject.” Getting to his feet, he began making his way unsteadily back toward the road. Then he looked back, “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“You owe me another meal.”
Will gaped. “You can eat after that?”
“I damn sure will, if only to get even with you,” said Tiny, spitting to clear his mouth.
“Aren’t you still nauseous?”
Tiny gave him a malicious grin. “If I throw up, I will make certain to aim in your direction.”
Will shuddered.
“Not to worry, though. I have the strongest stomach in Company B,” Tiny assured him.
When the server at the eatery saw them returning, his jaw dropped. Glancing from Tiny to Will he asked, “You can’t be serious?”
“I can pay,” said Will.
The server scratched his head. “Money or not, if you keep coming back we’ll run out of food and have to shut our doors.”
Chapter 45
A week later Sergeant Nash informed Will that he was to return to the armorer. This time it was a bit less stressful, since he had been expecting the notification, and being given part of the day away from his normal duty was something of a treat.
Being in a good mood, Will smiled when he found Master Harless. The older man stared at him for a moment, then asked, “Is something wrong with your face?”
Will dropped the smile. “No, sir.”
Harless nodded. “Off with your gambeson.” He pointed at a pile of similar garments. “Drop it in the pile. We can use it for other things.”
“Sir?”
The armorer sighed. “There’s a new one with your mail. I don’t do shoddy work. The new gambeson and mail should fit perfectly together.”
Will did as he was told and soon one of the apprentices was helping him into a new, padded linen coat. The mail shirt went over that, and after a few claustrophobic minutes of shimmying back and forth Will felt it settle into place. It wasn’t as heavy as he expected, but it still put a noticeable burden on his shoulders. He wondered what it would feel like after wearing it for most of a day.
The apprentice handed him a well-made leather belt. “This goes just above your hips. Be sure to cinch it tight. I’ll mark a few extra holes in case your weight changes later.”
Puzzled, Will asked, “What’s this for? The shirt fits pretty well—”
Harless chuckled. “Damn right it fits well, but you’ll still be miserable after a few hours without that belt. Trust me.”
Will wrapped the belt around his waist and held it in place while the apprentice marked it. That done, the young man took it away to have the holes punched. When he returned a few minutes later, he returned it to Will who put it on. He noticed the difference immediately.
The mail shirt was long, reaching his mid-thigh, which coincided with the length of the new gambeson. The overall weight was probably close to twenty pounds, but with the belt on some of the weight was taken off of his shoulders. The belt transferred the strain from the lower portion to his hips, making the entire thing much more comfortable to wear.
The fact that the gambeson was sized to fit him was also an improvement. Overall, he was carrying some more weight, but it didn’t seem like it would be too much of a burden. Harless walked around him in a slow circle, poking and prodding him now and then. Then he gave a grunt of approval. “If you don’t die this year you should consider coming back.” The armorer reached up and poked Will’s throat. “This is where you’re most likely to get a mortal wound. Remember that.”
“What do you do about that?” asked Will.
“A padded coif and gorget, mail over that and sometimes a double layer of mail over the throat—or if you have enough coin, a new helm with a mail aventail, padded coif, and a gorget,” said Harless.
“How much does that cost?”
“Doesn’t matter,” replied the armorer. “Your patron asked the same, but we’re too busy with everything