Siege (The Warrior Chronicles, #5) - K.F. Breene Page 0,21
answered in the Shumas language before laughing. “Such foolery. I’m hungry. If these men want me to eat first, I will gladly oblige.”
“The women don’t want to be treated any differently,” Shanti said, noticing Maggie’s surly, defiant expression. “They want to be equal.”
“They fight the same.” Mela shrugged. “That makes them equal. What does eating have to do with it?”
“Their culture is changing. It is a slow process. Instead of being grumpy, however, the women need to realize that at least they weren’t asked to cook. It is a step forward.”
“It would probably taste better if they had,” Rohnan mumbled, eyeing the lumpy brown stew.
“The food is not good?” Mela bent to the side to see the man scooping out the stew. “The food in the city was great.”
“That was made by cooks. This is made by men who have lost their taste buds.” Rohnan looked away, unimpressed.
“Then maybe I’ll have to cook. Or Sayas.” Mela scratched her jaw, contemplative. She loved her food.
Ruisa slowed in passing, holding a dirty bowl from a finished dinner. She nodded at an uncomfortable Alena, hesitantly holding out her bowl at the front of the line. Ruisa shook her head. To Shanti she said, “This chivalry wears off quickly. I tried to tell them all to take these niceties while they can get them, because as soon as these men think of us as warriors, and not woman warriors, they become men again. The spitting and the farting is annoying. I’m going to enjoy this social etiquette stuff while it lasts.”
“Why did you get to eat?” Marc asked as he wandered closer, shooting a scowl at Ruisa. “You’re not new.”
Ruisa gave Mela and Shanti a suffering look. “See? I’m one of the boys. They pretend I don’t have a vagina.” Marc made a face and stepped away. Ruisa gave a sly grin. “And the younger men really hate the word.”
She started walking again, throwing a verbal vagina at Marc as she passed. He flinched and then scowled harder, staring after her.
“Strange,” Mela said, glancing at the two younger people.
“Yes. It’s best not to question.” Shanti grinned.
“Didn’t need to be said.”
Shanti grabbed two bowls and went to find Cayan. The flap of the tent sprinkled dirt on her as she moved it aside. Cayan, Daniels, and Lucius stood inside, squinting down at a map.
“Dinner.” Shanti set the bowl on the very edge of the makeshift table, careful not to disturb any of the maps. She would’ve put it on the ground if she wasn’t worried about one of the cats—which were lying, curled up, in the corner—getting it.
All three men straightened up and looked at her as if she’d appeared out of thin air. Lucius stretched, not as worried about being as proper in Cayan’s presence. Daniels rolled his neck, keeping his signs of fatigue to a minimum. He clearly pretended that Cayan couldn’t sense his tiredness and desire to be done with the day.
“Are we set for tomorrow?” Shanti asked, sinking to the ground in the corner, cross-legged. Her cat looked in her direction. “Don’t get any ideas, you.” She pointed at it before hunching her food away a little.
“Please excuse me, sir.” Daniels nodded at Shanti as he ducked out through the flap of the tent.
Cayan glanced back down at the map. “It’s a two-day trek. We’ll stick to a relatively unused travel-way. The land is easy to traverse. It mostly skirts along the base of a mountain. I doubt we’ll see anyone tomorrow. That is, if the Mugdock have been taken over, as I fear.”
“You fear? I thought you didn’t get along with the Mugdock?” That was a nice way of putting it. The two peoples had been at war for generations. Shanti speared a soft potato.
“No one deserves to be taken over.” Cayan took up his bowl and handed it to Lucius.
“No, go ahead.” Lucius waved the stew away. “I’ll get mine shortly. I’m sure they’ll save some for me.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Shanti warned. “The younger men can eat more than is natural.”
“More than Sanders?” Lucius grinned and made for the flap. “I can’t believe it.”
Shanti noticed his grin and the elation pouring off him as he left. He wasn’t like most of the others, somber and slightly anxious. He was almost joyous at the prospect of action.
She shook her head and speared a soggy carrot. “He’s happy you brought him. He can do more than fret in a prison cell, is that right?”