Clanless (Nameless #2)(62)

“Just wanted to wash my hands,” said Zo.

The man gave her a quick nod, but kept his eyes fastened to her every movement, like a starving predator ready to devour his next meal.

Zo plunged her hands in the river and scrubbed. Boar’s guard approached her from the side, either to be certain she wouldn’t run or for some darker purpose. Both options seemed probable.

Zo pulled her hands from the icy water and practically ran back to her place by the fire and Boar. As dangerous as the Clanless leader was, Zo had no doubt he served as a sort of protection to her among this camp of wild men.

The following morning, while most of the men were packing up camp, Zo slipped the vial of monkshood in her pocket before rolling up her bed. One of the men at each of the three campfires tended a cook pot. Aside from Boar’s, one fire was shared by Boar’s inner circle, and the other by Ikatou and the rest of the Kodiak. Mostly they ate a stew-like concoction of broth and meat, with the occasional diced and boiled tuber. From the bland smell coming from the cook pots, this morning appeared no different.

When she thought no one was looking, Zo uncorked the vial and poured some of the monkshood into her and Boar’s pot. When she looked up, she met Ikatou’s questioning face. Zo didn’t dare keep eye contact, but purposefully stared at the other cook pot. The one shared by Boar’s inner circle.

How would they get the rest of the monkshood into that pot? How could she communicate her need for Ikatou’s help?

Ikatou turned away from her and went about his business. Clearly, he hadn’t understood her need. Zo would have to find a way to poison the other pot without his help and without drawing the attention of the rest of the camp.

Boar nudged her with a steaming bowl of stew, a ladle still dripping in his other hand. “Eat. We have to leave soon.”

Zo tried to hide a tremor of fear as she accepted the bowl of deadly stew. Killing Boar wouldn’t be enough. She needed to kill his inner circle as well if she wanted any hope of escaping this motley clan with her life.

Boar ladled his own food and together they sat on their folded bedrolls to eat. Steam curled off Boar’s stew as he blew across its surface. “The swelling on my forehead is down, but I still have a bad headache,” he said, conversationally. Then he took his first bite.

“That’s natural. You lost a lot of blood. Fluids will help.” She held her own bowl to her lips and pretended to drink.

The instant the broth touched her lips, the skin around her mouth tingled with a hint of numbness. She didn’t let a drop in her mouth.

If Boar felt the effects of his stew too quickly—before the other men had a chance to eat—she was dead.

Behind them, someone shouted a curse and the camp turned to pandemonium.

Zo spun around to see Ikatou and a member of Boar’s inner circle shoving each other. Ikatou ducked to avoid the other man’s fist and answered with an uppercut of his own.

Boar set down his bowl, and as if he were excusing rowdy children said, “They get like this from time to time.” He stumbled a little as he stood, and cleared his throat a few times as he moved toward what had become a full-fledged battle between Ikatou and his opponent. The other men formed a ring around the combatants and Zo didn’t squander the opportunity.

She inched toward the other fire and fumbled with the vial of monkshood. She twisted the cork while it was still in her pocket, careful to keep it upright when the cork came free of the bottle.

Boar shouted, “That’s enough,” and a few of the men helped to pull the two apart.

But Zo still hadn’t reached the other cook fire. She sprinted the rest of the way to the fire and instead of pouring the uncorked vial into the cook pot, she threw it into the stew, vial and all.

“We leave in five minutes if we want to reach the Gate and your new clan by nightfall,” Boar ordered. He cleared his throat a few times, shook his head, and staggered toward Zo. “You look like you’ve never seen two men fight before,” he said. He put his hand to his head and moaned, but didn’t complain further as they sat back down on their bedrolls and picked up their bowls again. He lifted a shaking spoon to his lips.

Around them, other bowls were filled and the camp divided back to their own fires. The men of Boar’s inner circle ate their stew as they talked while at Ikatou’s fire, the men ate with shifting glances.

Zo looked back to find Boar lying on his side, the bowl of stew spilled and forgotten. He tried to clear his throat a few times. “What’s … wrong with … me?”

Across the camp, one of Boar’s men shouted, “What’s this?” as he held up the empty vial. He examined it for a moment then looked directly at Zo. A few men cleared their throats; some scratched at their necks, as if that would bring some feeling to the numbness spreading throughout their bodies.

Boar tried to crawl toward Zo, but didn’t seem to have the strength to push his body off the ground. “You … ” A gargling gasp escaped his swollen lips. Drool rolled down the side of his face.

Boar’s eyes rolled back and with a sickening thud, his head connected with the earth. A sound she knew would haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.

She snatched up her medical kit and bedroll as the man holding her vial threw it into the fire. “Poison,” the Clanless man wailed.

Bowls clattered to the rocky ground and every wild and haggard man from Boar’s inner circle turned to Zo. She could tell they were feeling the initial effects of the monkshood, but it would take another minute or two to circulate through their bloodstream. Too much time.