Chương 387: 10.7

Jewel stared at the twin cities of Bledaten & Pyrenean. Where they would find no welcome. There would be no hot baths for her, or any of her entourage. In the tent beside the wyrm, in a space too small to fit her full size was Muriel. Jewel's captain had not taken well to the growing bite of winter as they moved north and the weather turned closer to the proper state for winter. But she'd mustered every day so far. Until this morning, now dragging towards noon.

Every day Jewel's captain had always been close to the first to rise and be ready in armor. But this dawn she could not muster the strength to even sit up. Gem, Leo and Erhard were now with her in that tent, making the space cramped. Why had Jewel not insisted her captain have a greater accommodations? She looked at Erhard with gem's eyes. The wizard's face was still mishapen, the skin more like crudely fashioned plate then red tinged flesh. There was none of what she now realized were artistic flourishes of life.

No creases, no pores, no softness at all. Both eyes were the lidless sockets of the skull beneath, burning with a forge's light. The nose was a vague lump of metal. It left the man seeming unfinished. A sculpture of metal unfit for viewing. A children's whittling done in iron.

Still Erhard's gaze provided added illumination and a welcome raising of heat to the interior of the tent leaving Leo with light enough to work what she had come to learn was the substantially more difficult task of calling upon the heavens without the guide of stars. The Wizard's eyes were a boon, like a hearth and candle flame in one. Providing illumination without the danger of opening the tent for sunlight. Leo had warned that the cold curse of winter spirits might very well end Muriel's life!

It however was not yet enough." Harm of this nature is beyond my skill to heal, nor a matter I can guide you Countess." She'd asked for the wizard's help, all but pleaded for him to make Muriel whole again, to aid Jewel as Tsulogothulan had. But he had calmly yet reluctantly said that he could not. He'd acknowledged the danger and refused all the more on those grounds." She is not torn, cracked, or broken, her flesh is not parted from itself, it is whole, so it is my means of repair cannot aid her.

I have nothing to mend, and I am no weird to see deeper than that." So the court Wizard of the High King of Cantor Reborn was worthless as anything but warmth and a light. Barely more use in a matter of dire life and death then campfire. Thus, Leo hovered over her, waving the bound herbs smoldering, learned in healing, in the arts of calling the heavens. Face a mask of concentration, lips moving silently, breathing even and still.

And Gem, her smaller self, now for the moment the only one that dared to use anything of mortal sorcery. Spinning threads of her store of wyrmflame out into Muriel's shivering body, laying a learned working of her friend for health and robustness from illness. Interweaving it with the first and so far only working that Jewel had made for herself that the spawn could manage. An extension of the form that she had taken on in the longest nights in Rochford. A woven binding of fire, heat and song.

A protection against winter, against the cold, against the Marzanna herself. Gem pulled and wove the thread, the smell of Leo's smoke mingling in memory, his silent, unvoiced words seeming to echo the voices of the chant. Which Muriel had attended nearly every year. Every spring she had been touched by the winter warding of Rochford. And now she was touched again by it, honed and forged in wyrmfire instead of the fauxflame.

Wrapped within it again and again until Gem had to place her hand against the heavy leather of the tent wall and receive more of Jewel's flame from her own touch on its opposite side. Mere tanned skin and wool nothing to the passing of her flame between the two parts of herself. Then back to it she returned, Gem weaving her very flame into Muriel's body. Leo Beseeching the gods Jewel knew of that had touched Muriel. But that had begun hours ago, and was now nearly noon.

And Muriel had yet to stir more than briefly opening her eyes. She had not even been able to drink more than the water of a sodden cloth squeezed into her mouth by Leo's careful hand. Her brow was shining in sweat under Erhard's eye. Her hair and bed clothes soaked through. The smell of the woman was sour, not fresh and lively with exertion as Jewel remembered it. Muriel's sweat smelled like struggling, straining despair and accursedly sick. Leo set the smoldering herbs in a dish above Muriel's head.

It was so quiet and yet even that slight rustle seemed to echo in Gem's ears. His voice felt deafening. Even with how softly he spoke.

"We can do no more for her gem." She could not keep Gem's voice anywhere near as controlled, she practically croaked as she spoke." She's not well yet." Leo sighed heavily and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, stalling Gem from the motions needed to call another of Tsulogothulan's working for health and recovery.

"The heaven's blessings are upon her, your own sorceries soak her to the bone now do they not?" She wanted to bite the hand that touched her, that dared to stop her from enacting the working, the urge rose up and Jewel could not even say whether it came from either of her selves or somehow both. But that those hands could perhaps still heal Muriel froze her in place. She did not want to admit the answer to what he asked.

"Yes, they are, as deeply and wholly as I dare" Leo nodded.

"Then there is nothing but to keep her warm, watered and clean." He stepped, in the practiced way everyone but Gem had to learn for navigating the smaller tents used on this journey. She could more or less stand upright even in the smallest ones. Why had she not insisted that Muriel have a better tent than this? If she had surely she'd have not fallen ill? She should have insisted after her captain developed a cough on their tour of Viznove. But they were not supposed to even be traveling in this awful weather!

Leo stopped at the entrance to the tent pausing before parting the flap.

"We should all take care of ourselves now lady Gem. We cannot help the ill if we ourselves are weakened for hunger and lack of rest." Before Gem could insist she stay, Erhard's words broke through, flat and yet gentle. Single toned and full of concern for her.

"I will remain to watch over your captain Gem of Jewel. She will not suffer for lack of warmth or care." The misshapen lumpy features of his face were all but still, the jaw of the skull beneath only barely moving, dragging and stretching the half formed features in a facsimile of speaking. It was unnerving through Gem's eyes, but Jewel could still hear the sincerity within.

"Go Gem, If you or the Diviner are needed I will send one of my halberdiers." She wanted to stay anyway, but Leo reached across the tent to gently tug at Gem's shoulder, and in her confused inner conflict she moved with him. The cold of the winter day bit at her face and snout after the almost sweltering heat of the tent. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. She took in the camp, from Gem's lower vantage it was harder to ignore the unmoored nature of it all.

They had been caught just preparing to leave. Some tents were taken down, others left up. Some distressingly half done. Even among her own footmen there was a disorder to things. Something Muriel would have never allowed. But she was not here. She was laying in her tent, overseen by a Wizard. Suffused with every sorcery and divine miracle Jewel and Leo dared to place upon her flesh.

"My Countess, I and your daughter have done all we can for at least the hour. I recommend that she see to her own care. And that you do the same yourself. Even divine cures are not instantaneous, we need to give Muriel time to rally with the aid given her." Jewel would have stayed, would have lingered. She wanted to stand vigil outside that tent. But Erhard was with Muriel, providing light and warmth if she should need it beyond the miracles and sorcery already upon her.

All the more she remembered how exhausting the vigil for the ill could be. The memory of days striving to restore Kliatbatrn stinging in her throat and chest. Leo was right. More than her trust in him as her advisor in the divine she could remember how fruitless worrying over a sickened body could be.

"Alright, Leo, It is nearly time for noonday meal anyway, and I fear we will not in fact be breaking camp today." She turned towards the camp, at the disorder that her men were in, they were still in what was technically enemy land. So far Murad had shown that he'd be willing to adhere to this truce. Although for what reason she did not know. Still her encampment being in this state was unacceptable." Men of Viznove! What is this shameful display?! Secure your tents and the encampment!

We will remain here another day! To your posts and see to the watch on the perimeter!" Her voice carried well beyond the tents of the noble entourage and their own guards. Well out to the merchants that had huddled close. Many already packed, others having gone. Honestly Jewel was pretty sure a keen eared peasant in Pyrenean might have heard her voice. At least two of the outlying villages closer to them definitely had.

Still with that disorder settled and action and vital motion restored to the men who had been drifting aimlessly without the guidance of their captain, Jewel turned her attention toward the mess tent. Gone were the hundred itinerant bakers preceding and trailing their march into Magarska. Gone were the fresh airy breads they made every morning on the journey south. Gone were the autumnal fruits which had followed them to Terminapolis.

No more herds of cattle and pigs and goats waiting to be slaughtered every evening. Still Dariusz, his wife and his youngest were a wonder. Her Kitchen master and his family and staff had been bringing his famed traveling stew to completion since Muriel's condition had drawn Jewel from breakfast that morning. Magarska and more importantly Murad may have closed hospitality to them but Jewel's entourage was not beholden to his charity, her generosity had not waned.

All the footmen, attached house guards, and their staff were welcome to the same stew that she herself partook. A wonderful and rich traveling pottage that Dariusz had managed to maintain in top form every day of their march despite the growing difficulty in securing fresh supplies. The hard brick like chunks he kept wrapped securely against rain in the supply wagon was a kitchen sorcery!

A dissolving stone hard as wood chips that could turn water, a bag of grain and bones into a fortifying and more importantly delicious stew every afternoon! More than that his mortal kitchen magic could do so for the thousand some mouths that needed feeding after long marches. Divided up among the combined staff of all the parties under Jewel's protection. A Hundred hands working under his direction. Yet the stew pots were filled, the fires burned and the food flowed.

Not the watery milk meal of goat bones and travelers bread Jewel remembered from her campaign. But a wholesome and flavorful food heavy in salt and sharp herbs! It had helped keep the morale up with the men even as the cold of winter closed ever tighter with every step towards home. Still as enriching as the upcoming meal would be and her own words to rally them Jewel could see that there was a waning in the actions of the men. Half of them were setting out tents they had just finished securing for travel.

There were mutters and grumbles abound. Especially in those that were not from Valasect or Kaeketeh." Coddled old bitty, that captain, just a bit of aches in the morning and the whole camp stops for the whole day?" Jewel did not turn towards the men speaking as they laid out and raised their tents again." Nah, I heard it was serious, a curse from the Beastmen south finally catching up to her." She did not tilt her ears to listen." Bah, fairsworth she suffers a bit I say.

Hardest, sharpest tongue I ever felt lash my ears on that woman." She did not have too." Shut it, her sward arms are harder than her tongue. And her drills are even worse!" It was heartening to hear Muriel's prowess being defended by those more familiar with her methods." Eh so what? It's not like any of you are gonna tell her? Are ya?" Jewel had a little snort and chuckle in Gem's snout and throat. This was definitely one of the Vahstrehgin loaned by Lord Dominik. To even suggest that?

It was a kind of honor Adelyne was always proud of to find in her fellow citydwellers." Ain't no one from Kaeketeh is a snitch! But we don't have to, ya fool. The Countess will know. And she will tell the captain." Jewel held her lead turned away from where she could almost feel the man turning to crane his neck and identify her place." Hmmm? Nah she's all the way over there by the mess. She ain't gonna hear us." She did not turn at all to face them, not yet at least.

Let her own men have the chance to warn the marchlander." If you are so sure of yourself go ahead and list ya name and homeland fool. The Countess' hearing is sharper than a hare's" There that was the correct time to turn and fix the particular man with her gaze." You lot know I'm-" And now she could meet eyes with the man. Serene and intent even as she kept her stride towards the mess. Gaze shifted with her motion, making it unmistakable that yes, she was indeed looking at the man.

She saw his conversation partner glance her way and crack into a grin, giving a little wave." Afternoon countess" She answered the man's greeting with a turning and nodding to him, a slight shift but more than enough to break eyes with the Vahstrehgin footman. Who wheezed a bit. Then Jewel turned her attention away from him. It was worthwhile to remind the most egregious and ignorant of the camp of her awareness. Of her presence. But not overly much, Muriel's advice...

She sighed and tried to focus on the imminent meal. Heading to Dariusz portion of the hectic swarm of activity that was the kitchen tent of her encampment.

"Dariusz, how long until the meal?" Voice carrying in a way that could pin lesser men in their place. But in the kitchens whether in a tent or keep the word of a Countess was secondary to its master. Still he turned towards her and shouted over the tumult nad noise.

"Another twenty minutes to half an hour Lady Jewel!" That was fine, she took her place at one side of the mess, listening to the bustle of her men and guests. Watching them with Gem's eyes, as the mere turn of her wyrmish neck was a symbol, an overwhelming sign that the Shining Countess herself had taken interest. No one approached her or Gem while the kitchen staff worked at their cauldrons and began filling bowls. As was custom Dariusz had one whole pot hauled over to Jewel's place at the south side of the mess.

Gem's portion was handed off in a simple wooden bowl that she had seen them scoop from Jewel's serving pot. But it was again no matter. Even at high noon the chill was enough that most of the men and guests of the entourage were more focused on warming themselves with the hot stew than conversation. A silence punctuated by murmurs, slurping and for the noble guests scraping spoons. The sun began to sink before conversations began to pick up.

Paul arrived at her side from the cluster of guests he had settled in with for the mid-day meal. But he did not speak, merely settling down and leaning ever so slightly against her side. As much contact as was appropriate between man and wife in the open air of the camp. She'd listened to him suffer the muttered complaints and frustrations of the second sons and their families for the entire trip north. She gave a gentle pat to his thigh as Gem in commiseration and thanks.

Jewel would hear her share of anger from her Vassal's offspring and the richer family members of the guilds. But Paul did his best to fill the role of shielding her from as much as he could. As the first hour past noon fell to the next Jewel's attempt to rest and consider the last few legs of their journey to Viznove was broken. A halberdier slunk into the mess, moving in that graceful fluidity that belied the weight of the steel that encased the man.

Not so quickly as to cause panic, but nonetheless swiftly for a normal man. His words whispered so soft that only Jewel could hear, not even Gem's ears picking up the curt words." The Captain is dying."