Lawrence Watt-Evans - In the Empire of Shadow

Raven looked at Valadrakul, who made a gesture with his hands that Pel couldn’t interpret.

“As you will, then,” Raven said. “’Tis true we’ve put a league and more behind us, but I’d thought to fare on until the night grew too deep. The darkness draws fast o’er us; perhaps ’tis best we stop.”

“Nay,” Valadrakul said. “Not yet. Shall we not find water ere we rest? There’s no sign of stream or brook here.”

“Oh,” Amy said.

“No water?” Ted asked, startling everyone. “More nightmare, I guess. Haven’t done thirst in awhile.”

Pel clenched a fist and wished he could reach Ted with a good punch on the nose.

“Oh, shut up,” Amy muttered wearily.

“Can’t the wizard get us water, somehow?” Sawyer called.

“Would that I could,” Valadrakul called back. “I can, perhaps, take game, that we might have our supper, but water is beyond my powers.”

“Maybe we better keep walking, then,” Susan said quietly.

“I can’t,” Amy protested. She dropped abruptly, to sit cross-legged on the ground. “I can’t go any farther.”

“As you will, then,” Raven said. “We’ll camp here.”

“What about the water?” Wilkins asked. “We crossed a stream a ways back.”

“We’ll not retrace our steps so far!” Raven said, shocked. “Surely, we’ll find water nearby, and can fetch it hither, if the women can go no more.”

Pel looked around as the others spoke, and found himself agreeing. There had to be water around here somewhere, didn’t there? Where did rainfall here go?

He looked at the slope of the land. “That way?” he said, pointing to the left, where the ground dropped off somewhat.

“Aye, of course,” Raven answered. “Wouldst join me, friend Pel?”

Pel just wanted to get off his feet, but he couldn’t let himself be seen as a whiner or shirker. “I don’t have anything to carry water in,” he replied.

“Then these others? An they’ve naught else, surely those helms they bear will hold water.”

Pel turned, and saw Wilkins shrug and remove his helmet. “If you want,” the Imperial said. “I’m in no hurry to wear the thing again, anyway, and it should be dry by morning.”

“I’ll get firewood,” Pel offered, feeling a bit guilty.

“A fine thought, friend Pel. And if the ladies would clear a space that the fire might be set…?”

“We will,” Susan said.

A thought struck Pel. “Valadrakul,” he said, “we saw something up in that tree a little while ago.” He pointed upward.

“Ah,” the wizard said, smiling. “And you think it might serve to feed us?”

Pel smiled back. “It might.”

Twenty minutes later, when Raven, Wilkins, Marks, and Singer returned with three helmetfuls of water, Stoddard was midway through skinning a fair-sized opossum, and Pel was tending the campfire Valadrakul had, by means of his magic, lit. Amy, Ted, and Susan had brushed away branches, leaves, and underbrush, and were sitting around the fire; Sawyer, bearing a good-sized tree limb, was standing guard, after helping gather wood.

“A fine sight to return to,” Raven remarked.

Pel eyed the half-skinned, slightly scorched opossum.

“Well,” he said, “it could certainly be worse.”

* * * *

Amy awoke shortly before sunrise, her back stiff from sleeping on the hard, dewy ground and her feet still sore from the long day’s hike; she felt chilled, and her stomach was churning. The overripe scent of decay was in her nostrils. She sat up slowly, then suddenly sprang to her feet-or tried to. She got as far as her knees before the remains of her share of the roast opossum came up.

She retched several more times after her stomach was emptied.

When at last she was able to stop heaving and straighten up, she found the rest of the party awake and staring at her in the dim predawn light.

“I never ate ’possum before, okay?” she said, glaring around at them.

No one answered; embarrassed, most of them turned away and set about getting themselves up, since there was obviously no point in going back to sleep.

Susan, however, took the three steps necessary to reach Amy’s side and knelt beside her.

“Are you all right, Amy?” she asked.

Amy nodded. “I’m okay. Really.”

“It’s just the food, you think?”

“What else could it be?” Amy asked, hopelessly. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve had anything decent to eat in months, now.” She laughed unhappily. “It’s hard to believe I’m looking back on that cheap pizza we ate at Pel’s house as the last good meal I had.”

“Some of the food hasn’t been bad, just different,” Susan said. “You’d get used to it.”

“I don’t want to get used to it,” Amy said. “I want to go home.”

“I know,” Susan said quietly. “Me, too.”

“Everything’s tasted weird. Even when I know what it is, and it’s something normal, like chicken, it’ll taste funny. The whole time we were in the Empire, everything tasted funny. And here in Faerie, what do I get to eat, after an entire day of running around being chased by monsters? Dirty water and one-twelfth of a possum. What kind of a meal is that?”

“An improvised one,” Susan said. “It’ll get better. When we get to civilization, or whatever passes for it here, we’ll have real food again.”

“If it doesn’t poison us,” Amy muttered.

“It won’t poison us,” Susan said. “We’re all human beings, even if we do come from three different worlds. Anything they can eat here, we can eat.” She smiled. “Did I ever tell you about when I first came to the U.S., and they gave me a cheeseburger? I’d never eaten cheese before, my mother called it rotten milk. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could eat that stuff. But I had to, if I wanted the beef it was on, so I peeled off what I could, and ate the rest, and then I waited to get sick from eating spoiled food. And nothing happened to me, of course.”

Amy gestured unhappily at the mess on the dead leaves. “I wasn’t so lucky,” she said.

“It’s probably just strain,” Susan said. “It’s rough on everybody, getting stranded here all over again, and worrying about Shadow sending more monsters after us. And you’d hardly even recovered from what happened on Zeta Leo III when they sent us here.”

At the mention of her enslavement Amy lost control again, and bent over, retching. She brought up a thin stream of clear fluid, nothing else.

Susan put a reassuring hand on her back, and with the other scrabbled in her purse and came up with a somewhat used tissue, which she offered.

Amy accepted the crumpled paper and wiped her mouth, then stared at the result distastefully.

“I’ve ruined your Kleenex,” she said. “And you probably don’t have any more.”

“I still have a couple of others,” Susan said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry, anyway,” Amy said. “And I’ve got to find the little girls’ bush.” She got to her feet. “Thanks, Susan,” she said.

“All part of the service,” Susan said, smiling. She, too, stood.

* * * *

As Amy ducked behind a tree in search of privacy, Susan noticed Prossie, standing quietly a few feet away, watching. The men were going about their own affairs-many of them undoubtedly doing the same thing Amy was, while others were fetching water or clearing away the campsite.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Prossie asked uncertainly.

Susan glanced after Amy, then shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said.

“I didn’t want to intrude,” Prossie explained, a little ashamed that she hadn’t done anything for their stricken companion.

“Oh, go ahead and intrude,” Susan said. “After all, there’s just the three of us with all these men.”