“Your home is very beautiful,” she said instead, returning her attention to the walls about her.
Machrus only continued to eye her steadily. “You do not have to provide flattery. If you are used to open spaces, to sky...” he frowned before glaring down at his plate, placing a large bite in his mouth, she supposed so he would not have to continue. He took his hand away, his complete withdrawal obvious, and her frustration with herself grew. She was mangling this.
She sighed, keeping to her own food and wondering how she might do better. She had meant to compliment him, his home, and instead she had given yet another insult.
The silence was a strained one, and she found herself eating the rest of the things on her plate without any great concern for what they might do to her later. The creamy substance was much more pleasant when she spread it on the round bun as she saw him do, and in the end her stomach felt fuller than it had in ages.
Machrus made no move to speak with her again, and she could not bring herself to impose herself upon him again. Not until she was certain she would not upset him further.
The fire was warm and with her thirst and hunger abated, a pleasant drowsiness settled over her, her eyes heavy. It was early yet for sleeping, and she tried to shake herself free of it. If she had been alone, she would have settled on the floor and rested for a while, but she was not, and he didn’t seem to like her being there.
His hand was back on her arm, and she blinked at it tiredly. “You require sleep?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble.
She cleared her throat, sitting up straighter. “I’m all right,” she assured him. “Long day, that’s all.”
He grumbled something too low for her to hear, rising from his chair. She watched him warily as he disappeared further into his dwelling, where she had not yet dared go, and briefly wondered if she was meant to follow him. But while she was still warring with herself, he appeared once again, a bundle of cloth in his arms as he opened the door and took a step outside.
She watched him uncomprehendingly.
There were blankets under his arm, and he was looking at her expectantly, and a knot of worry settled in her stomach as she suddenly realised what he intended.
She was to sleep outside.
She bit her lip, rising from her chair and the fire and the warm rugs that were so lovely on her feet, and followed him outdoors.
He was looking about the property, his brow furrowed as he surveyed the land, and she grew more certain that he was trying to determine where to put her. A lump welled in her throat, but she refused to complain. Even if the grenpeets were starting to eye them again, wiggling bodies prancing through the grasses, others calmly nibbling at their equally green food source.
He was going to leave her out here with them?
Perhaps he meant to stay with her here, but somehow she doubted it. He wanted his home to be his own, and she could not blame him for it. She doubted she would have much liked it if she’d been ordered to offer him shelter back when she had a little lean-to of her own.
He seemed to find an adequate spot for he grunted, putting down the blankets with deliberate care, spreading them just so, before he crossed to a woodpile, beginning to make a fire with equal purpose.
He truly meant for her to stay out here.
She wrapped her shawl tighter about her shoulders, determined she would be grateful. Just because the prospect of a cosy burrow was an appealing one—safe from the elements and strange green creatures that liked to nip at her toes—that did not mean she was entitled to receive it.
And he was caring for her, in his way. There would be more blankets than she had ever had before, and a fire that if she tended properly would see her through the night.
It was more than she had in the colony, and that helped settle her somewhat. There were far more vicious things out in the Wastes than grenpeets. Even if one had already wandered over briefly to sniff at Machrus, though the fire seemed to deter it from remaining any longer than that.
She felt foolish for her disappointment at not sleeping indoors, and instead determined to help him make up her little camp, adding more wood to the fire and helping him dig a ring about it so no grass could catch on the flames. She found him watching her every so often and he would shake his head, his mouth tight and his eyes resolved, and she tried to smile at him, to assure him without words that she was all right with the arrangement.
Being out here meant she would not be expected to sleep with him, nor consummate anything that they both would have preferred had never taken place.
The curve of the hill provided shelter from the breeze, the fire cheerful as the second sun began its descent. And she truly was tired from the day.
Apparently satisfied with the camp, Machrus reached out and touched her hand, his expression still rather grim. “You may—” he began, but she quickly spoke up, not wishing to hear his reasons for ejecting her from his home. She did not mind, not truly, but it seemed too awkward a thing to have voiced between them.
“This is fine,” she assured him, and she would have settled into her nest of blankets if that would not have pulled her hand away from his. “I’ll be very comfortable here.”
She was not entirely certain of that, the hard earth so different from the sands she had always been used to, but that was not his fault.
Machrus grimaced but nodded, eyeing it all rather dubiously but not contradicting her. “The latrine is inside,” he informed her, his tone rather apologetic, though why it would be she couldn’t imagine. “I will show you later should you require it.”
She didn’t, not yet, but she was grateful for the offer, as it meant she would not have to broach the subject herself.
“You’ll be sleeping inside then?”
He frowned, but gave another nod. “My dwelling is not large. You will find me easily if you have need of something.”
She smiled again, a thin thing that must have looked rather pathetic for his frown deepened. But he said nothing, and she found herself rather glad. There was nothing to say, not really.
“I will leave you to rest then.”
He gave a bow, a formality that seemed strange given what they were supposed to be to one another, but somehow fitting the arrangement they seemed to be resolving between themselves. They would be married for their peoples, but that did not have to change things for them. Not when they were both so against it.
And her ridiculous twinge of disappointment was quickly stifled as she climbed beneath the blankets, Machrus returning indoors, the grenpeets keeping their distance now that their keeper was no longer in sight.
And with the fire beside her, the soft blankets surrounding her, it truly was a warm and comfortable spot, better than she’d had in quite some time.
And yet she found herself crying quietly into her bedding until, at last, she slept.
6. Welcome
She awoke as the first sun rose, the rays bright and glaring as she pulled one of her blankets higher under her chin. The fire must have died, for she had not tended to it, and there was a distinct nip in the air that chilled her nose and made her glad for the grenpeets, if only for the fur that had made her blanket.
A rustling noise forced her to open one eye, and she screeched when she saw Machrus peering down at her, three grenpeets about his feet, the small bodies ambling closer to her as they investigated what held his attention.
Her body was stiff, the ground as difficult to sleep on as it had been in her old camp, but she had been warm enough. And she supposed in reality she had appreciated the privacy. But only if she was feeling generous, which she was not at the moment.
“You didn’t need to do that!” she snapped at him, grabbing her blankets and shuffling back and away from the intrusive grenpeets, the slope of the hillside forcing her to halt lest she wish to climb the embankment.
Machrus tilted his head, and she knew he couldn’t understand, but she was cross and was not going to apologise. He had been the one to rudely awaken her.
The grenpeets were coming closer, their tails wiggling and their noses twitching as they tried to decide if she was food or perhaps more akin to their keeper, but Renna did not wish to see what they settled upon, for she looked to Machrus, hoping it would be all right for her to come in now.
She pointed rather than asked, her eyes more pleading than angry, and he nodded his head, leading her back toward his home. She kept as wide a berth from his companions as she could manage, her blankets held tightly around her, the camp temporarily abandoned. She would put it back to rights tonight, but it was likely best not to keep her blankets out there anyway, in case a grenpeet decided it would make an appealing nest.
Learning how to use the lavatory was as mortifying as she had thought it would be. Machrus was as gruff as he always was, and did not go out of his way to embarrass her as he showed her the facilities, but everything was different, water and soap making the process very different from the latrines they had constructed in their old camps.
It would take getting used to, but it was efficient, and when she had pushed him from the room, it was certainly nicer than anything she had used before. She had been afraid that she would have to rely upon a candle or simply what little light trickled beneath the door from the main room, but there were strange stones that produced a warm glow, illuminating the space quite adequately. She had never imagined such things, but did not dare touch one, lest it prove to be some kind of unfamiliar heat source that could burn her too-curious fingers. The water that spouted from the wall was especially nice, when first she washed her hands and then her face, her teeth scrubbed with a finger. She eyed the soap dubiously, wondering if she might use that to tend them, but not quite daring. It had a strong scent, the lather good for her hands, but it did not seem the proper thing for teeth.
Some had not cared for their teeth well in the Wastes, and she could still remember the loud screaming when infection led to removal. It was enough to keep her scrubbing at them lest rot set in and she have to face such an extraction.
Machrus was waiting in the main room, a bowl of pale mush sitting for her on the table. It looked harmless enough, cooked grains she thought, and it was mild on her tongue. They ate at the table, Machrus silent and seemingly content for it to be so as he made no move to touch her and ask anything of her. It was early yet, and she wondered at his routine that he could have their first meal already prepared.
She would have to speak with him eventually, but she found it difficult to instigate, her feelings still rather raw from her banishment the night before. She pushed such thoughts away. They were not useful, and there were more important things to be concerned with than where her husband had her sleep.
The mush was warm and filling, and she would have liked to have asked him the name of it, but still he did not offer his hand, so she ate it quietly. He did not seem upset that she was not awake first, did not appear to expect her to have been up to cook it herself, and she wondered at the roles of Marzon men and women. She had given it little thought, determined to simply do as she was instructed, but she was beginning to grow frustrated when Machrus gave no instructions.
Not that day.
Or the next.
She followed him at his work, though he did not ask her to, always ready to help if he should ask it of her. The grenpeets still made her nervous, the smallest ones the most excitable as they pranced and darted about, ready to startle her whenever they possibly could. The largest seemed to think it great fun to push against her legs if she made the mistake of holding anything green, their colouring seeming to suggest that anything of the same hue was also their most favourite thing to eat, and she grew less fearful for her toes as it became clear they truly were content with their foliage.
Machrus seemed to ignore all her efforts, and she wondered if he would prefer she remain at his home or in her little camp rather than accompany him. He never said so, but then, he rarely said anything at all.
And while that had been perfectly acceptable back in the colony, here it was beginning to drive her mad.
It made her glad for the distraction when a strange tinkling bell sounded outside the door. Machrus had left her there, and other than tending the fire and inspecting cupboards, she had very little to do. It was not an ominous sound, more cheerful than anything, so she opened the door with little trepidation.
Adelmar and another woman stood on the stoop, smiling at her, a full basket between them. There were about four children running about outside, though they moved so quickly it was hard to get a proper count. One strayed too close to a grenpeet, the creature bounding away quickly, a disgruntled look in its eye, and the other woman gave a sharp word and the boy—she was fairly certain it was a boy—ceased trying to run after it.
The woman gave a rather rueful smile, and gave what was perhaps an apology, but Renna could not understand it. She smiled in return, a bit wider than she might have usually given, but she was more grateful for their company than she would have thought possible.
She took a step backward, and gestured for them to enter, wishing she had been more proactive in convincing Machrus to show her how to make things they would have liked. She did not know how to be hospitable—there was little need for it in the Wastes as the Arterians did not care much for niceties, but she wanted to prolong their visit and it felt rude not to offer something.
She held out her hand, meaning for Adelmar to take it so she could ask about the proper protocol, but the woman misunderstood, giving over the basket instead. She was speaking, and Renna was torn between investigating the contents of the apparent gift and reaching out so she might understand what Adelmar was trying to convey.
She held out her fingers again, not sure if it would be rude to approach. She risked it with Machrus because she had to, but she did not want to offend.
Adelmar’s smile faded, and she frowned, speaking again, a little more clearly—or at least her lips suggested so. Renna withdrew her hand suddenly nervous, and gave a little shrug. “I’m sorry,” she said instead, uncertain what else to do. “I haven’t learned anything on my own yet.” Which apparently had been a dreadful mistake. But Machrus had not wished to speak with her, let alone be her teacher, and...
She certainly couldn’t keep them here for company if she could not even converse.
Renna bit her lip, the last few days of isolation suddenly pressing at her.
Adelmar’s eyes softened, and she reached out, but clenched her fist and returned it to her side with a frustrated sigh.
They spoke amongst themselves for a moment, seeming to agree to something at last for Adelmar turned to her, taking the basket and depositing it on the table. She pulled back the cloth covering the contents and revealed that most of the items were carefully wrapped, the only things not so a pair of new boots.
She handed them to Renna with another warm smile, pointing at her feet in what she assumed was a bid for her to wear them.
They were new. And apparently hers.
Machrus had been providing her clothes in the mornings, warm things that were very comfortable. Most pieces were green, a tribute to their source, but they were soft and lovely, and fit her well enough.
But he had not given her any boots to wear, so her jaunts into the valley were in her bare feet. It was not as unpleasant as she would have thought, the grasses moist and cool, so unlike the searing sand that would have guaranteed to blister her tender flesh if she’d ever made such an attempt before.
Machrus had sturdy boots that laced to his knees, and though he looked at her naked feet with a dubious look, he had never forbidden her from following him.
But now she had boots of her own, the soles whole and unworn.
She sat down on the floor, ignoring Adelmar’s look of amusement. Apparently Machrus was not alone in finding it strange that her first impulse was to utilise the floor rather than a chair. She was getting better, but it still took reminding herself to seek one out, and she was excited to see how her new boots fit.
&
nbsp; The leather creaked when she rose and took her first step, a testament to their newness. The holes for the laces were decorated with embroidery, each detail a thing of beauty. A true craftsman had made these. Perhaps even just for her.
“Thank you,” she breathed, bowing her head as she’d seen Machrus do on occasion. She did not know the proper way to convey her thanks, but it would have to do, and Adelmar gave a low nod in return, and she thought that meant it was enough.
She gestured for Renna to follow, and though she hesitated briefly, wondering if Machrus would be troubled that she had gone out without his knowledge, she found herself wanting to go, and justified it easily as the leader’s wife had commanded her to do so.
The children seemed surprised to see them so soon, huddled around as they were, apparently in the throes of a heated debate. They were a range of ages, and she had been mistaken as there were five, not four. Two of them were of a different colouring, their skin sporting the markings of Machrus and Sladec but also the strange tint of Adelmar’s. The rest must be the other woman’s, she decided.
The mothers waved at their children, who went back to their squabbling, though at a much more muted level, before suddenly they scattered, a game apparently decided upon.
Adelmar shook her head, but there was a fond quirk to her lips.
Renna could not ask where they were going, and from the way the women would stop occasionally and scan the valley, she was not entirely certain they knew either. Most of the grenpeets had wandered off, a great clump of them some ways off, and they moved closer to the mass, dread filling Renna but she pushed it away firmly. She would not be afraid of these creatures. She’d grown used to hasart beetles even when they stung her repeatedly, and she could forgive one of these beasts for trying to eat her toes.
Besides, she had boots now. Good, sturdy things that would surely keep out any malicious teeth.
Machrus did not notice their approach at first, his attention fully on the grenpeets. He seemed to be counting them, or perhaps assessing them for any sign of injury as he went from one to the next, looking at hoofed feet, his concentration obvious.
Trade (Deridia Book 2) Page 8