Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(14)
As she passed, he reached out, wanting to warn her of the sergeant’s suspicions, but she shook her head slightly, and the man in question appeared at the doorway. Jack closed his eyes, feigning sleep.
“Pleasant evening, Miss Jasminda. I hope your day was enjoyable.” The sergeant’s obsequious voice made Jack’s skin crawl. Jasminda merely grunted. It didn’t sound unladylike coming from her, though. Jack cracked his eyes to find her trying to get past Tensyn, whose angular form efficiently blocked the doorway.
“And may I ask where you’ve been off to?”
Jack couldn’t see her face, but the tension in her shoulders indicated her displeasure with the inquiry.
“Needed to restock. Eight eat far more than one.”
Tensyn peered into the basket, its top protectively covered by her arm. “And what do you have there?”
After a moment’s pause, in which Jack could feel the waves of irritation pulsing from her, she moved her arm to show him. “Wild greens and herbs. Potatoes and berries. Potatoes aren’t quite ripe. The herbs should cover the bitterness.” She stayed rigid as Tensyn inspected the basket’s contents, poking and prodding at the vegetables.
When the leaves of the greens came into view, he nearly gasped, but caught himself and clamped his jaw shut. The sergeant did not appear to see anything amiss in her haul. Just as Jack was beginning to exhale the long-held breath, Tensyn’s body brushed against Jasminda’s. Jack clenched his hands into fists until she shifted the basket, cutting off any further bodily contact.
“If you’ll excuse me, Sergeant.” She motioned toward the kitchen, and Tensyn finally stepped aside.
Jack snapped his eyes shut when the man’s attention moved to the floor in the corner where he lay. When the footsteps retreated into the house, he sat up, mind racing. He’d only seen the edge of one leaf, but that was enough. Every child in Elsira learned to identify and avoid ruaba leaf. The plant was so poisonous it was illegal, sold only on the black market. A quick killer, it caused a rapid, deadly fever in the victim within fifteen minutes of ingestion. A fever that grew hot and fast, causing death within the hour.
Jasminda’s plan was clear enough, and while Jack admired her strength of spirit and quick mind, he thought it too risky. If any of the men recognized the plant or chose not to eat it for some reason, there would be trouble.
The smells of her cooking soon wafted through the window, causing his stomach to rumble. The other soldiers were arriving back from their missions, and Jack slumped down as one tromped past and slammed himself in the old outhouse. The main cabin had a single washroom that was always in demand.
Pymsyn approached the outhouse next and banged on the door, receiving a grumbled curse from inside. “How long are you going to stay in there, mate?”
Jack couldn’t hear the response, but Pymsyn shrugged and moved to the nearest tree to piss. The stream was seemingly endless; he must have drunk a gallon of water. Just as he finally finished, the outhouse door opened and Unar came out, buckling his belt. The two men shared the thick build the Lagrimari were known for.
“I’m starving, mate. When do you reckon dinner will be?”
Pymsyn shrugged. “Smells good, though. You on first or second round?”
“First.” Unar clapped the other man on the back heartily. “And you?”
“Second,” Pymsyn said, annoyed. “The sergeant’s gone bonkers, hasn’t he? Making us split dinner shifts as if that little chit were putting something in our food.”
“Aye, paranoid as the True Father, he is. But what officer you’ve met ain’t? What with spies and traitors running around willy-nilly? But for a spark the bale wouldn’t burn, you know.”
“Easy for you to say. You get to eat first.”
The men’s voices were lost as they rounded the house again. Jack scrambled to his feet. His ropes were long enough to allow him limited movement on the porch. He crouched under the kitchen window and peered in to find Jasminda chopping and adding vegetables to a boiling pot on the stove. Wargi sat at the table, surveilling her openly. A handful of ruaba disappeared into the bubbling pot. Squatting down again, he ran through the possibilities in his head.
If her plan moved forward, the first wave of soldiers would eat and fall sick, leaving her open to the accusations from the second wave. They would kill her quickly, or worse—the thought hit him like a blow to the gut—kill her slowly.
He had to warn her. But how?
He rose to the window again. A few of the men filed into the kitchen and sat expectantly around the table. Jasminda looked up and met Jack’s eyes but managed to hide her shock at his appearance. He shook his head meaningfully. Unable to raise his hands high enough to point at the pot, he tried using his head to motion downward, but she merely crinkled her forehead in confusion.
“That smells good now, doesn’t it?” Unar said from inside.
“Feck off, mate,” Pymsyn shouted from the outer room. Unar grinned and stared at Jasminda’s backside as she bent to retrieve something from the oven. Jack gritted his teeth and tried to catch her eye again, but she refused to look to the window.
“Stewed greens,” she sang out with false cheer, while her face contorted in barely contained rage. “Ready in a minute.”
Wargi passed out the plates and straightened the silverware. Jasminda pulled down a stack of bowls from the cupboard and stirred the greens again, readying to serve them.