Western Watch (3rd Draft)

Chapter 17

Her eyes closed, Merreth lets the water run down her face and listens to it drip back into the wash basin on Charadell's desk. She splashes her cheeks again and rubs her nose. I'm still dirty, and smell like a barn, she thinks. And she used to tease Ammantha about taking a bath every day. She's having a hard time remembering how it felt to be clean. She opens hers eyes and her hair falls forward in oily strands, brushing the water in the basin. A rippled rogue stares back at her.

"Lady Merreth?" Constable-sergeant Arric stands at the pavilion entrance. "Do you require anything else?"

Merreth prides herself on her independence, on how little need she has for servants, maids, footmen. Now, here, the question reminds her of just how much she's lost, of how far she's fallen. "Where can I get something to eat?"

"Right then, lunch," says Arric. "It's a bit late but I'll have the lads prepare something for you and bring it by."

She straightens up and settles her hat on her head, tugging the brim down. "No need, I'll go get it."

"Ah, well," Arric frowns, rubbing his chin. "I'm not certain where you'd be getting it from, or eating it, actually. Fires are out, and I'll have to round up the cooks. Best to let me bring you something when I can."

Defiance and obstinacy. Much easier to deal with than kindness. "You're in the habit of serving criminals are you?" she asks with an edge in her voice.

Arric's expression cloud with, with what? Dismay? Uncertainty? "As you wish. I'll send someone by to let you know." The tent flap falls closed.

Damn it! Why does she keep stepping on people who show her courtesy? Good Goddess, it's not as if I've been showered with deference over the last several days. Merreth sighs and settles into a chair. I need to find someplace safe to get some more sleep, she thinks. Likely Totlenn's camp. She grimaces at the thought of an hour's hike to a place that less than a week ago she would have characterized as anything except 'safe'.

There's a rustle at the pavilion entrance and she speaks without glancing up. "Arric, I want to ..."

"Alas," says Eenid, stepping through the entrance, "the good constable-sergeant is on some errand." The Templeman glances around the pavilion before continuing. "He seemed most dejected. I now see why, he's just finished speaking with you."

She rises, hand resting on her belt dirk. "Loathsome puddle of vomit."

Eenid produces an embroidered handkerchief from a small shoulder bag, mops his brow and puts it away. "And good morning to you too, Merreth. Tell me, are the guards out front to keep people out, or to keep you in? It's frightfully warm today." He nods at the decanter and glasses beside the wash basin.. "A drink of water perhaps? I was polite enough to extend the offer to you the last time we shared each other's company."

Merreth shoulders her scabbard.

"Oh my, I don't mean to chase you out." Eenid smiles. "I could almost believe you don't find my company pleasant."

"The first time we met, Eenid, you delighted in telling me that you could have me killed like that". Merreth snaps her fingers.

"'Eenid', is it? So much more congenial than 'loathsome little toad'".

"The second time you tried to convince me to aid in punishing an innocent man. I feel dirty just being around you."

"I imagine you feel soiled around just about everyone, Merreth." Eenid sniffs and rubs his mustache. "And not just because of your current unwashed state."