said. “It’s remarkable they could trust one another enough to run a ship much less build a kingdom. You cannot compare us.”
“You’ve never deceived an enemy, is that it, Kara? Never used spies? I know you’ve played coy with the men in your life.”
My hand clenched into a fist and Gwey smiled and raised his hand in peace.
“We all have our deceptions, for good or for ill, Kara, but this queen is willing to sacrifice a great deal personally for her goals,” Gwey said, taking the last items from the basket.
“As am I, Gwey.”
“Yes, I know,” Gwey said fondly, pausing to look at me.
The scent of the soups’ spices spread throughout the tent, subtly at first but growing stronger.
Gwey set a steaming tureen in front of me.
“We are not two merchants haggling over the price of ale, Gwey,” I said. “We are rulers protecting our kingdoms.”
“Everything is trade,” Gwey said, suddenly serious. “Everything has a cost.” He turned to find a seat and started talking to the air. “You may not fully understand what I do. I doubt very seriously you even fully respect what I do, but I know that those merchants who struggle to lose as little as possible also manage to gain nothing.”
Gwey seated himself across a corner from me and opened his tureen. He stirred his soup slowly, his eyes watching the seabirds outside seek to fill their bills. “What can you gain from the exchange? What can they gain? You can’t forget those questions.”
“And what do you gain from being here?” I asked, irritated at his philosophizing. “Why are you still here? Now?”
He turned from the birds and faced me. His hurt was evident. “I would hope that would be obvious,” he said finally. He did not shift his gaze.
I looked away and found sudden reason to stir my own soup.
“I have been in battle before, Gwey. This is no different,” I said. “Did you cry yourself to sleep when I marched on Karidoo? Or when I pushed back the raiders in north Culling?”
“I don’t cry for much, anymore,” Gwey said in a distant voice, “but it would be short of the truth to say that I didn’t worry those times as well.”
“You should take your horse and return to Abringol,” I said, looking him full in the face. “When things turn ugly here, there will be little enough mercy given to a merchant.”
“If things turn ugly, Kara. If.” He reached for the bread and shot me a mischievous look. “And is that to say you worry for me as well?”
I glared at him while he pointedly ignored me and dropped pieces of bread into his bowl.
“I suppose,” I admitted slowly. “All the more reason you should leave.”
“Alas,” Gwey said, lifting a spoon of soup to his mouth, “I’ll be with you until this matter has been solved. You’ll trust me more, I think, if my loyalty to you earns me a bellyful of arrows.”
“A lot of good my trust will do you dead,” I reminded him.
“Yes,” he granted, “but I might get a line or two in the song about the battle. Or maybe a nice poem?”
“They do not write songs about merchants, Gwey,” I said.
He sipped his soup and reacted visibly to the taste.
“They do when you’ve bought the winning side a hundred barrels of ale.”
He took another spoonful of soup.
“By blazes, this soup is good.”
***** ***** *****
In the afternoon, my infantry commander reported that Esmir was walking among our camps. I climbed the lookout hill and after a few minutes had found her strolling among my men like an herbalist checking her plants. Her ring flashed in the sun, plain for the less scrupulous soldier to see, but her demeanor alone would keep her safe. Even from that distance, I could tell the men fell hushed when she approached; some even stood awkwardly and bowed. I sent my infantry commander to escort her and provide for her needs.
I turned and looked at the tent city. Kullobrini soldiers still manned the earthworks, though the fatigue of constant duty showed in their shoulders. Waiting was ever the worst of war.
Between tents and the long bows that hung from the soldiers’ backs, I could still glimpse children playing in the cloth-bordered avenues. I wondered what they made of the great pit that surrounded them or of the great bank of earth that had grown teeth in one night. What do liars tell their children when the lie becomes too big to hide?
I had returned to