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Eder turns the spit again, trying not to burn the meat, and attempting to ensure the tabuk haunch cooks evenly. Recently it has disturbed him to discover that his thoughts, his plans are not as clear as they used to be, perhaps ,he wonders, it is the fact that he feels some sense of responsibility for the Captain who still snores under a mountain of furs and blankets. Kragus seems to handle the long time in the saddle more easily every day, the reducing need for rest breaks testifying to his continued improvement. Nevertheless, at the end of each day he spreads his bedding and takes a nap, leaving the Assassin to take care of the beasts and the evening meal. Then again, that explanation of his lack of clarity may be a little too facile, a little too obvious. While not used to having to think of any else but himself, his previous existence being very much of the lone variety, Eder is also keenly aware that he is now attempting to operate in an arena in which he has no experience to refer to, or to guide his way. No longer is life a simple question of commission, study and planning the opportunity to strike, followed by a rapid, clean implementation and an even faster departure. This game is different, it plots force against force, not one man against another, give or take the odd guard or two. It is like a game of kaissa, where all the normal rules of movement are set aside, a free for all ,where any and all means are acceptable in pursuit of victory. All concepts of honour and code are similarly set aside, subservient to the ultimate need for gain. Kragus has greater experience in this new environment, greater insight, and he appears to be equally adept at plotting this particular campaign as he was in managing the day to day operation of running a caravan. He seems to recognise, much more easily, the different elements in play: not only recognise but also understand their function and purpose. Eder realises that more often than not, he doesn't even see them coming, let alone know what their role is. The sizzle and spit of fat dripping onto the heated stones surrounding the rough fire-pit, breaks Eder from his reverie. He rotates the spit once more, as the haunch has begun to blacken. He jams the spit in place with a small wedge, and rises to unload the rest of the packs from the kailla. He arranges his bedding on the ground, using a trellis of gathered fronds to give some sort of spring to his bed, and takes up a nearly empty water-skin, setting off to look for the stream they had passed shortly before making camp. As he leaves, Kragus partly opens an eye to watch his companion leave. The ache in his arm is diminished, though still there in the background and his strength seems to returning, but not as rapidly as he would have wished. He chafes at being unable to undertake his fair share of the work. Breathing deeply, his nostrils flare at the aroma of roasting meat. He stretches, ageing joints cracking as they always seem to these days, and pulls aside his blankets, before walking stiffly to the trees to relieve himself before taking station at the spit. He flicks the wedge aside with the tip of his dagger, grasps the rough handle of the spit and begins to rotate the tabuk, shaking his head as he notes the patch of crisp, blackened skin. He mutters about the quality of Eder's culinary skills before reaching for a cup and holding it under the stream of dripping fat. Waiting until the cup has filled somewhat, he upends it over the smoking haunch, turning the spit to ensure an even basting, even though it appears too late to rescue part of the meat. "Someone needs to teach that boy how to cook." Taking his opportunity to stare into the fire, his own thoughts turn to their position. Two of them against who knows how many, their faces and identities known, his perhaps better that that of the Assassin. Worse still, apart from a few of the main members, the majority of their enemies, well opponents at least, are unknown. A truly amazing conspiracy. He recalls his first reaction to Eder's tale... disbelief, surely it was preposterous.... and yet, as he mulled it over, between regular bouts of drug- numbed slumber, he began to consider it might not be so ridiculous after all. Just because something is beyond what anyone in their right mind would believe, does not necessarily mean it is not true, that it is not possible, that it may not succeed. Many is the man who has fallen simply because he could not believe or comprehend that a danger existed. Kragus glances up as Eder returns with a full water-skin and empties another cup of fat over the roast, once again rotating the spit to ensure an even coating. He looks straight into the Assassin's cold blue eyes, noticing the lessening of the confident gaze, seeing the growing uncertainty in the way that Eder walks and moves. The language of the body telling more that the words of the mouth. "Lad, do you want to talk about it? " "Not yet, old man, at least not until I have thought this through enough to understand some of it. Then we will talk....By the way, do you know we have company ?" The Captain grins .."Took you long enough to notice.... How many do you think ?" "Three, maybe four at the most. Also they are either careless or poor trackers. " "Perhaps they are just confident in their numbers, even a shade overconfident." "Perhaps they are, Captain, that might be a mistake." Kragus grins and presses the point of his dagger into the haunch, the blade slipping easily into the meat, releasing another trickle of fat onto the hot stones. "Time to eat...... I have an idea." The Captain cuts thick slices of the roast, passing half to Eder, before tearing into his portion. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand, smearing juices into his beard. He leans forward, feeling the heat from the fire.... "This is what I think might work........"
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Chapter
Twenty-Three "By the fire"