Maria Snyder - Touch of Power

“Yes, I know what’s at stake.” Belen spat the words. “But if you raise your hand to her again, I’ll rip your arm from its socket.”

Wow. I tilted my head to catch Kerrick’s expression.

A flicker of surprise flashed across his flat gaze. “Make sure she keeps her opinions of Prince Ryne to herself and I won’t have to.” Kerrick glanced at me.

I met his cold gaze and realized I meant nothing to him. Unlike Belen, Kerrick must know I wouldn’t survive healing Ryne and he didn’t care.

“You will heal Ryne,” he said before turning away. “Loren, your watch.”

Loren shot to his feet. “Yes, sir.” He dashed from the cavern. And I wished I could follow him.

Belen knelt next to me. He pressed a wet cloth to my cheek. “I’m sor—”

“Don’t apologize for him,” I said, leaning into the cool comfort of the cloth. I glanced around. By the rigid way they lay under their covers, I knew Flea and Quain pretended to be asleep. Kerrick shucked off his boots and settled into Loren’s spot, ignoring us.

Belen played nursemaid, fetching me a drink of water and setting up my bedroll. I liked him. Too bad, I wouldn’t be staying with them for long.

I waited for an opportunity to escape. It took two days. Two days of walking through the forests in silence and one night in yet another cave. A night I kept quiet and just listened to the men, nursing my bruised ego.

The second night’s stop was far from ideal since Kerrick stopped at a big echoey cavern. I suspected he knew the location of every single cavern in the forest. But I couldn’t stand being with him any longer.

“Remember when those three drunks challenged Belen to a fight?” Quain asked no one in particular during dinner and when Kerrick was out on watch.

“And Kerrick gave strict orders. No fighting or we wouldn’t be able to go near a tavern again,” Loren said.

Flea rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard this story a dozen times.”

“Only a dozen?” Belen asked. He had stretched out on his back by the fire and rested his head on his crossed arms. “For some reason those two monkeys—” he gestured to Loren and Quain “—think that story bears repeating over and over again. Perhaps it’s just an unfortunate manifestation of their low intelligence.”

Quain snorted. “Manifestation? Oh, boy, look who’s trying to impress the healer.”

“He doesn’t want us to finish the story. He’s afraid we’ll scare Avry,” Loren said, trying to draw me into the conversation.

All four of them had been overly solicitous as the bruise on my cheek swelled, turned red, and faded to a mere smudge of greenish black. I reminded myself that they hadn’t struck me. No need to hate them.

“I’m not that easy to scare,” I said. “What happened with the drunks?”

“He clapped all three of their heads together, knocking them out. Thus, no fight,” Quain said.

“Thus? Now look who’s flinging the fancy words around,” Loren said.

“ Thus is not fancy,” Quain shot back.

Flea sighed elaborately. “Here we go … again.” He picked up his two rocks and practiced juggling them despite his claims of giving up the other night.

I had made sure my bedroll was close to Flea’s. While Quain and Loren launched into a debate about the fanciness of certain words, I asked Flea about his name.

Keeping his gaze on the stones, he pointed his chin over to the others. “They, ah, gave me the name. Seems it was nicer than being called a parasite.”

“What’s your given name?” I asked.

“I don’t have one. At least, not one I remember.” Flea missed a stone and muttered a curse. “I grew up on the streets, thieving to survive. I’ve been called boy, thief and other uncomplimentary words.” A flash of his lopsided smile. “How’s that for a fancy word? Uncomplimentary. ”

“I’m suitably impressed,” I said.

He managed to keep the rhythm of the throws consistent for a number of exchanges before the rocks collided in midair. Another curse and he started again.

“How did you get involved with this group?” I asked.

“About a year ago, they came to my town, asking questions about healers. They were discreet, but still word gets around and the local muscle didn’t like them or me for selling information to Kerrick. Stealing secrets was one of my most lucrative abilities.”

“It almost got you killed,” Belen said.

“ That time. I had a whole network of informers and these guys showed up and just blew it apart.”

“Funny, I remember it differently.” Belen tossed another log on the fire.

“You would. Your life and livelihood weren’t at stake.” Flea scratched his temple with the edge of one of his stones. “When things grew too hot, I helped them slip out of town and …” He glanced at Belen with affection, but masked it before the big man could see. “I just stayed.”

“Ha. We rescued him from the stockade before they could hang him as a traitor. And then we stopped the idiot from going back.”

Which would explain Flea’s comment about kicking Belen’s shins because he wouldn’t let go.

“So who gave him his name?” I asked.

“Kerrick,” Belen answered.

Not who I’d expect. “Why ‘Flea’?”

A full-out grin spread across Flea’s face. “‘Cause I’m fast and hard to catch.”

“Because he’s a pest and hard to squash,” Belen said.

“Because he jumps about three feet in the air when you scare him,” Loren added.

“Because he’s annoying and makes us itch with impatience,” Quain said.

“Thanks, guys. I love you, too.” Flea made exaggerated kissing noises and patted his ass.

They threw pieces of bread and pillows at him, laughing. I realized they had formed into a tight family. Guilt at what I’d planned welled, but it shattered the moment Kerrick entered.

I bided my time, keeping awake while Loren woke Quain for his shift and Quain roused Flea for his. After Quain’s breathing settled into a deep rhythm, I crept from my covers. With one mournful look at my knapsack, I tugged my cloak around my shoulders and tiptoed away from the fire. If anyone woke, I hoped the presence of my knapsack would make them assume I had just gone to the privy—which was a stinky side cavern I hated to use.

Flea sat on the top of a large boulder a few feet away from the cave’s entrance. As soon as he spotted me, he immediately slid down the side.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in a whisper.

“Nothing. I just needed some fresh air.”

“You shouldn’t be out here.”

“Is there anyone around?” It would be a surprise if there were. Since I’d been with Kerrick and his men, I’d seen no one at all, yet they still carried their weapons at the ready.

“Not close, but there’s a group of merchants—we hope—about two miles due east of here. See the fire?” He pointed.

I squinted into the darkness. We stood on a slight rise. A tiny pinprick of orange-yellow dotted the mound of trees.

“How do you know they’re merchants?”

“Wagons loaded with goods, horses and armed guards. They could be mercenaries, but they have too much … stuff. Mercenaries usually travel lighter.”

“How do you know all this?”

Flea grinned. “Kerrick’s already checked them out and determined they’re probably harmless. We have to be more careful now. I’m sure the rumors about your rescue and our involvement have spread faster than the plague. Twenty golds is a huge sum. There are a few mercenary groups who would love to take you from us.”

Curious, I couldn’t help asking, “Can they?”

“Not many,” he said with pride. “But don’t worry, Avry. We’re too smart to walk into an ambush.”