FIFTEEN

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I wasn’t entirely sure where the others were camped, not exactly; I knew where I’d left them at the road, however, and that was where I began looking. There were a number of craggy rocks at the top of that hill; they offered ample place for any of them to conceal themselves and watch the road for passersby.

I needn’t have worried; though I saw nobody, I could feel that someone was nearby, a familiar person. And I could sense their thoughts running in a tight circle, repeating the same message: If you’ve been followed, scratch your left ear. If all is well, scratch your right ear. If you’ve been followed…

I came to a halt, trying to guess where this someone – Travis, I thought – had chosen to wait, and I pushed back my hood for a moment, scratching behind my right ear as though it had an itch. Although I couldn’t see anyone following me on the road, I wasn’t about to go against his signal and call out.

He rose from a hillock – in fact, at first he seemed a part of it; he’d worked himself into such a tight thicket of heather that I’d not even imagined someone could be there. He greeted me in silence, with a wave of his hand, and he led me off to the right, where the hills met and formed a sharp cleft. The going wasn’t particularly easy, especially not with the burden I was carrying, but it certainly helped to keep them from sight.

Nancy was the first of the others to greet me, lifting my burden from my shoulders. “When you didn’t return last night, we were a touch concerned,” she said, “but I see all went well in the end.”

“All went quite well,” I confirmed as the others gathered around. “It was just as we thought might happen – the tailor didn’t wish to do business at night.”

“That’s not unreasonable, especialy not in times like these, I suppose,” said Elizabeth, lifting up one of the cloaks I’d brought and shaking it out. “And your errand certainly seems to have been fruitful. If we must put aside the Queen’s green, at least it’ll be replaced by more good Bergen wool.”

“So the cost wasn’t too high?” Rebecca prompted. “The heavens only know how many travelers they’ve seen in the past few days, and some of them may have needed new cloaks or clothing as well.”

“No, in fact,” I said with a smile, reaching for my purse, scarcely reduced from how I’d found it. “She was quite pleased to do business with me, and only wished five silver crowns apiece.”

“We’re only thirty crowns back? Not bad at all, Edmond.” She caught the purse as I tossed it over, and blinked. “Wait, there’s no possible way this is lighter by thirty crowns.”

“It’s lighter by a half-crown, and that was only for my meal last night,” I informed her. “I managed to recover my costs almost entirely.”

She gave me a long, speculative look, and then laughed. “You’ve been busy, have you? Well, it might not be how I’d have done it, but I can’t argue with your results.”

“Heavens,” Nancy said with a laugh of her own, holding up the smallest cloak and looking it over. “I’m hardly objecting, as we’ve little other way to bring in any coin, but I might almost feel envious. Giving yourself to the locals, when I’m the last one among us who hasn’t had a chance to sample your charms?”

“Not so,” I protested, gesturing toward the broad-shouldered medic. “Jacob hasn’t seen a need to ask for them.”

“Not meaning to slight you,” the older man rumbled, “but it’s likely to remain so, as well.” He smiled, leaning over to stir the pot. “I’m not quite so flexible as some of you.”

“Besides, it isn’t as though I’m standing much on formality,” I said to Nancy, trying to smile in a way that wouldn’t make me seem a presumptuous rake. “What we’re doing is far too important for such things. If you need my company – in whatever respect – you need only ask.”

“You’ve been quite busy enough as it is, or so ti seems,” was her reply. “I’d not have thought to presume so, not when I’ve no particular need.”

I shrugged. “Need comes in many forms. It’s not so strange to me, to think that it could be a gentler sort.”

“We’d best keep that for later,” Elizabeth cut in. “For now, we’ve got our new cloaks and can be a touch less conspicuous if we should need to go into town. We should break camp and get back on the move.”

It was a late start to the day, compared to our usual; but perhaps that helped us stay in high spirits. The rest had likely done us good, at any rate, for we made good time.

The new cloaks were a well-timed acquisition, as it happened; twice in that day we passed by groups of the Duke’s mounted guard, keeping watch over the duchy. While we couldn’t be sure that they would have wished to impede the Queen’s soldiers, and we spoke with them in as polite and civil a manner as we could on the time they chose to stop us, all of us were glad to be a touch less conspicuous.

“So how did you find Bergen?” Rebecca asked toward sunset, falling back to walk alongside me. “You seemed happy when you returned to us, beyond simply returning to our company.”

“That was a part of it, though,” I told her. “It was good to find you all healthy and well. It was good, too, to have done what I meant to do without great trouble. But, yes, it was a welcome respite from the walking, and from all the unfamiliar tasks I’ve needed to do. Even if it wasn’t exactly my usual manner of work, it was something at which I could feel skilled.”

“And there’s been entirely little of that out on the trails,” she sighed.

And well she might sigh; there wasn’t terribly much that she had been trained to do, aside from statecraft, and there was none of that to be done out here. I reached out to grip her shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I’ve been glad to have you here,” I told her. “I’ve tried to make the most of it, but without you as my partisan, I doubt I’d have had an easy time of it.”

“Without me, you wouldn’t have needed to leave the city in the first place,” she pointed out.

That was certainly true, and I admitted that it was so. But I looked around us, at the rolling hills and heather, at the sun touching the hills in the distance, and I said, “If I’d not left the city, I’d never have seen any of this. Perhaps it’s been a strain… but it’s had its satisfactions, as well.”

“Still, the sooner we can put all this behind us, the better,” she said with another sigh. “The land is beautiful, even with winter not far off, but I’d rather see it in spring or summer, and without the cost we’ve paid for the sight of it, without this errand forcing us onto the road.”

There was a surge of pain under her words, pain and loss such that I couldn’t hope to comprehend, never mind assuage. Suddenly taken by shame, I turned away, focusing my gaze on the road once again.

Whatever could I do to counter such a loss as she’d suffered? Even if she were interested, it wasn’t as though I could help her re-establish a family.

For the first time in years, I felt truly bitter about the chances I’d put aside in going under the knife. It was presumptuous of me in the extreme to even consider such things with Rebecca – she was a fine lady, a princess; she’d never wed herself to such a common man as me, certainly not to a simple courtesan, even if I had been able to conceive a child still.

And yet what cause did I have to complain? Here I was, doing things of importance, aiming to right a wrong such as most people only ever heard of in children’s tales. The work I needed to do in the process wasn’t always pleasant, but some of it was very pleasant indeed. I was surrounded by attractive people, and if I paused to think about it, I had far more opportunity to be close to them than most any man who wasn’t cut would ever have had. Even in the longer term, my only true problem was that I’d never be able to have a child of my own.

How could that possibly compare to losing one’s entire family?

I hadn’t the least idea how to respond to that grief, and it tore at me to know that my own complaints were so… so petty, and yet I couldn’t simply be content with my lot.

The rest of the evening found me rather subdued. I redoubled my efforts to be useful around the camp; I spent time with rifle and pistol and knife; I found more camp chores with which to occupy myself. I tried to do anything I might to take my mind off my own silly troubles – or, failing that, to at least help with the burden we all faced.

It was something of a shock when I felt Nancy’s hand on my leg; it was all I could to do avoid sticking myself with my needle.

“I’m very sorry,” she said, ears tilting back somewhat as she sat down beside me. “I tried speaking your name, but you’ve been so intent – what is it that troubles you, Edmond?”

“Nothing worth the name of ‘trouble’,” was all I could think to say. In the last of the waning sunlight, I took a few more stitches to my old cloak; discarding it entirely would have seemed such a senseless waste.

Her hand slid along my thigh somewhat – not so far inward that it felt intimate, but a simpler, more companionable contact. “Wasn’t it you who said, earlier today, that need comes in many forms?”

“The only troubles I have here are the ones we all face,” I insisted. “Sore feet, cold, rough beds, and we all of us are in the midst of a heinous plot.”

“And up until now, you’ve dealt with all those troubles with remarkable aplomb,” said she. “But ever since the sun started to set, you’ve been so… so bleak. You were the one person who, in spite of everything, kept going, kept trying to find the best in each day. When none of us had given you any reason to be friendly, you did your best to be so anyway.” She shook her head. “Seeing you like this worries me, Edmond, it truly does.”

I gave up on my mending; a proper job of it would need to wait for better light. A glance around told me that Rebecca was on the far side of our little camp, staring silently into the fire. “I felt what she’s going through,” I admitted in a whisper. “So much pain. I… I don’t think I could possibly bear it, myself. And so far as I know she’s been feeling it every day since we left. How can I possibly do anything to put it right?”

The mere memory of that agony gripped me now, bowing my shoulders and forcing my head down. “How can I think myself troubled, knowing what she suffers?”

That one thought kept resounding through my mind. I had no business, no right, to think myself disadvantaged, not now, not in the face of that pain.

“Edmond…” She sighed, reaching up to touch my jaw. “Putting that hurt to right is what we’re all here for, isn’t it? And you may turn out to be the most critical person here in doing so. You could learn to do the things we can, but none of us can ever hope to emulate this… ability that you’ve been developing.”

I lifted my head, looking across the camp again. There she was, just across the way, silent and still. I ached to go to her, to hold her, to tell her that all would be well.

But how could I possibly make such a pronouncement? Every day brought something new – I hadn’t the least notion of what I was doing. Left to my own devices, I’d have been lost countless times over. I didn’t know what was going to happen in an hour; I certainly couldn’t tell her, or anyone, that tomorrow would be better.

Feeling a wrench inside, I turned my head to the side, gazing helplessly back at Nancy’s wide, concerned eyes. “I’m not the equal of this task,” I whispered.

“You’re stronger than you know,” she responded, pressing her hand against my cheek.

Stronger, how? I shook my head, started to protest; she silenced me with a touch to my lips. “You’ve supported us all this time, Edmond,” she murmured, warm breath wafting over my throat. “Let me help to bring you some comfort.”

She pushed herself up to her feet, turning to reach down to me. In a haze, I took her hand and let her draw me up to her feet, some distance away from the camp.

In some distant corner of my mind, a part of me was screaming. This was not going to make Rebecca’s pain any less, would not make the journey any easier. But I was powerless to do either thing as it was, and I did not resist.

Nor did I object as she nuzzled under my chin, as she slid her hands under my cloak and stroked over my chest and sides. Not even as her hands slid lower, sliding over my breeches and tugging at my belt. My body was slow to respond, but not entirely unwilling, and she was patient; by the time one of her hands slid directly into my breeches, there was some firmness in the flesh that met her touch, and her stroking fingers coaxed it to greater life.

The chill night air on my flesh was a shock, and very nearly a welcome one; the cold cut through the numb haze in a way that her touch to my manhood could not. It was enough, at least, that when the cool was replaced by the warmth of her muzzle, it was somewhat easier to notice, to appreciate, to enjoy the tongue trailing along my flesh, not merely submit to it.

And it was a pleasing sensation – not only for the physicality of it, but for the tender concern lying beneath it. Coaxing any firmer a reaction out of me was not proving easy, but the gentle fog of pleasure was a nice thing all the same.

I reached down to cup under her chin. “I’m not sure I could… could carry on to a conclusion, not now.”

“That’s well enough,” she murmured against my hip, letting one last, warm sigh brush over my shaft before sliding up alongside me. “So long as it’s enjoyable all the same.”

In answer, I brought a hand up against her shoulder and pulled her in close, my other hand stroking along her arm.

How long we lay on the heather, with her gently toying with my manhood, I couldn’t say. It was long enough for some of the bleak despair to drain from my mind; I still felt inadequate for the tasks at hand, but the dark spell had faded to the point that at the least it no longer felt so futile. She sighed over my shoulder, a gentle, contented sort of breath, tilting her head up to peer at me and giving my flagging length a couple of tender pats. “Is that not a touch better?” she enquired, a light smile stealing over her muzzle.

“It is,” I admitted, ducking my head down to nuzzle at her ears. In truth, though, I was torn.

That was reinforced when we returned to the camp and I found that Rebecca had already retired for the night. She was sleeping, soundly enough in spite of everything that I dared not wake her; but her mind felt… shut in. Surrounded by cold steel.

Hells. Even if I’d not known what to say, I should have tried to say something. Or just hold her. Or something, not just… wander off with someone else for a few moments of pleasure when I knew she was suffering.

At first I tried to sleep, to wait until morning when I might give her an apology on bended knee, but sleep would not come. A half hour later, I gave up on so much as trying, dressed again, and checked that my pistol was in good order.

Jacob looked up with some surprise to see me emerge, and some more as I came over to him. “Go and rest,” I suggested. “I had plenty last night, and I can’t sleep now; I can stand a watch.”

He eyed me with a physician’s piercing gaze, and I don’t doubt that he knew I was troubled; but he squeezed my shoulder. “If you need help, call. And if you need something more subtle… don’t hold it in.”

“I’ll see,” was all I could promise.

I paced around the camp a few times, getting a good sense for the lay of the land around us, and then I found a place to sit. With the fire extinguished, the light of the waning moon cast a silvery gleam over the heather, edging the hills in light and shadow.

It was a curious beauty, and one I’d had little chance to see while at rest. And keeping my vigil, at least, didn’t allow me the time to worry and fret.

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