“Forgive me if it seems I am a poor host,” he said to Valessa. “I’d have prepared a drink for you as well, but far as I know, you’re not much for that type of thing anymore.”
“I tried to drink once,” she said, standing beside Darius instead of sitting. Sitting was actually more difficult, since she had to keep more of her body solid than just her feet. “The liquid ran through my jaw to the floor.”
She’d killed the couple who witnessed that spectacle. Their faces flashed before her, and she wished to think on anything else.
“I’ll drink double for her then,” Darius said, grabbing his cup.
“You’re my kind of paladin,” Brute said. The drink lifted to his lips, Darius paused just before, as if something was wrong. Realizing they were watching him, he laughed, and his neck flushed.
“Sorry,” he said. “Weird feeling. Still thinking this might be against our code or something.”
Brute laughed.
“If a cup of ale’s the worst sin on your shoulders when you die, I dare say you worry too much.”
Darius drank the liquid, then set it down. As the wood tapped atop the table, Valessa stared at it, feeling a mad jealousy. What she’d give to eat, to drink, to experience sweet fruits and bitter ale. In this undeath, she had an existence cruel enough to know how much she’d lost, yet an inability to do anything about it. Meanwhile, Darius was worrying Ashhur might flick him on the nose for a stupid drink. What she’d give to trade problems…
“So why are you really staying?” Brute asked, pouring more of the dark liquid into his cup. “Every one of the men here knows they’re to die. They’re doing it for family, for honor, or because they’re old and tired and don’t want to spend the next few weeks running just to die anyway. But you…you strike me as a man who has no intention of dying. So why?”
Valessa had heard his reasons, his inane sense of honor in replicating an act he assumed Jerico would perform in a similar situation. Shaking her head, she wondered just what this Jerico was like. He wasn’t even human, if she went by how Darius talked of him. He was more a caricature of godliness, a walking shield of good deeds and sickening perfection. Perhaps she should remind him that it was Jerico who had killed Claire, her companion?
It took Darius a moment to answer, and when he did, he failed to be convincing.
“Because it’s what I should do,” he said.
“I beg to differ,” Brute said. “No, what I’m thinking you should do is get into that little rowboat I kept here and row like a dragon’s teeth are nipping at your ass. But then again, I’m no paladin, just a simple soldier.”
“Sometimes I think the simple soldiers know more than us educated paladins,” Darius said, and he smiled. The smile was clearly forced. Valessa wondered if his nerves were starting to get to him.
Brute shot her a wink.
“We know more about killing and dying, and that sometimes lends clarity. I spiked your drink, by the way. Just want you to know for when you start passing out. Would hate to scare you.”
Valessa lifted an eyebrow, and she looked to Darius, who was gripping the table edge tightly. His skin was turning pale, and sweat trickled down his neck.
“No,” he said, and his head bobbed as if he were suddenly dizzy. “Not your…not your place to…”
Brute was up from his seat in a heartbeat, catching Darius as he fell. With a whistle, two other men came over, helping him lift Darius from the table.
“Where are you taking him?” Valessa asked, following after.
“To the rowboat,” Brute said. “Weren’t you listening?”
They dumped Darius unceremoniously into the rowboat, which was tethered to the southernmost dock. It rocked back and forth, the old wood looking dangerously insufficient compared to the heft of the paladin and his armor. One of the soldiers carefully set Darius’s large sword beside him.
“Get in,” Brute said when that was done. “You’re going with him.”
Valessa opened her mouth to protest, but Brute gave her no chance.
“You can row a boat, can’t you?” he asked.
“Water and I don’t get along,” she said.
“Then don’t fall out. We’ve all volunteered to stay, and not a one here is willing to appear a coward by helping Darius get out safely. That leaves you, and truth be told, woman, I think I’ll feel safer once you’re off with him. You raise the hairs of my neck. I’ve already loaded the rest of his things, and there’s a bit of food too, in case it takes you a bit to catch up with the others. Not that you will need to eat much.”