Bron found his roll and bedded down. He was asleep in seconds, his fatigue dragging him down so suddenly it was like being swallowed. No dreams, or none he could remember. He simply closed his eyes, then opened them what seemed an instant later to a bright early morning and Calea’s angry voice.
“I call it disrespect, that’s all. You could have at least asked me. Instead, you didn’t even try.”
Nyasha’s voice was exasperated. “You were asleep. Neither of us wanted to wake you. Probably because we assumed you’d be grumpy and unreasonable, just like you are now.”
“I’m not unreasonable! It’s completely logical for an equal burden to be shared equally.”
“Not in every case, my lady.”
“Stop calling me that. It’s not even correct. Jalseion has no nobility. We are a meritocracy.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you liked it when people bowed and scraped before your obvious superiority.”
The argument went on, but by this time it had devolved to a very childish level that might have been amusing if it hadn’t been so sincerely sharp-edged. Resigned to the need for intervention, or at least distraction, Bron pushed himself out of his blanket and walked over to where they sat by the rebuilt fire. “What’s wrong?”
Calea turned on him, eyes flashing. “You should have woken me for a share of the watch.”
Bron looked down at her and was silent for a moment, thinking. It would do no good to explain his reasoning to her–she would reject the idea that she should have been allowed more leeway simply because she needed it. She was not like Nyasha. She didn’t know how to receive kindness without seeing condescension in it.
“All right,” he said at last. “Tonight we will split the watch equally.”
Calea was satisfied and turned back to watching their morning corn cakes cooking on the fire.
Nyasha, though, sighed noisily, as teenagers were wont to do. “I still don’t think it’s necessary. Papa and I never had trouble on this road before. It’s too unknown to be dangerous.”
“Better to keep watch for no reason than fail to keep watch and be set upon,” Bron said.
Nyasha gave him a crooked smile. “Is that a saying from Jalseion? I never heard it.”
“It’s a saying from my old trainer, the man who taught me how to fight. So I suppose it is from Jalseion, in a way.”
She just laughed at him, light and delighted. Fond. Bron was startled to realize that he was one of the people Nyasha considered a friend. Calea watched the girl with narrowed eyes, confused and annoyed.
From their spiteful words to each other, it appeared that Nyasha considered Calea less than a friend. Now Bron would see how accurate his assessment of last night had been. He did not look forward to it.
They set out after breakfast. In the next couple days the path led them into a series of foothills leading up to the mountains. They traveled both up and down, following the slopes, but certainly it seemed to be more up than down. Despite Calea’s objections, Bron carried her bundle as well as his own, and she had a much easier time without the extra weight. Her practice back at the clinic had clearly paid off.
Nyasha was cheerful, too, sometimes tromping ahead to the tops of the slopes and waiting for them there, sometimes telling little stories of when she had traveled this road with her father. She had seen nothing on her watch last night, and she expected to see nothing tonight, or so she told them repeatedly. This was a safe path, because who in their right minds would climb mountains when they could simply go around.
“The caravan might very well beat us there,” she said at one point, chuckling at the idea. “The main roads to Thyrion are very good and the way is flat. My papa and I went through the mountains because it was cheaper than going with a caravan, and we walked fast.” She didn’t say that this group was moving much slower, but she didn’t have to. She’d made the point very clear in other conversations.
Calea frowned at this but said nothing. She needed her breath for walking.
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