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“Alright.”
You were surprised to hear the words rise from your mouth, interrupting your still spinning thoughts. Zhij said nothing, but you could see the softest, slightest signs of tension release in his jaw, his forehead, the muscles around his eyes. He leaned back slightly on his stool, head up to the sun, then slowly swept his hand out to the side, gesturing to the vantage peering out over the <span class="mu-i">Mila</span>. His eyes came back down to meet yours.
“Go then. My retinue and I leave at nightfall, the next Ispariz joins this place within the week. I will expect you as soon as your ability to make ready permits.”
You gave a curt nod, and walked out from the courtyard and back down the path.
“Marcel.” Zhij’s voice clutched you by the scruff of the neck. “Remember, it must be serious.”
You walked on with no reply. Five of your men milled about near the door to the house of the Ispariz, uncomfortable and unsure how to stand, lean, or squat with the eyes of two Sonziz upon them. Bernat was with them, just as awkward, still anxious, but not at the same cusp of terror he’d been toeing a few minutes previous. All of them were glad at the sight of you, standing attentive as you brushed past the Sonziz. You stopped abreast of Bernat and looked him in the eye. He withered a bit, trying to read what was on your face. You don’t know if he succeeded, but you saw him begin to climb that peak of worry once more.
“Back to the <span class="mu-i">pèstal</span>, bring Zina, a stake, and a rope.” You snap a command to one of the men who doesn’t meet your eyes before making his sign and jogging away.
You continued down the house road to where it met the thoroughfare, your men followed, Bernat walking in the center of the four of them. Romieg the shepherd still stood where you left him, his barrel chest and brawny arms employed in calming gestures toward Ponç. The young man dropped his shoulder in a relieved sigh as he saw you walk down with his friend. He tried to catch your eye, you didn’t let him. You kept on and your men kept with you, Bernat twitched his eyes between the men around him, licking his lips. There was no great yew tree in the center of the <span class="mu-i">Mila</span>, not this close to the border, but there was an old oak that shaded part of the thoroughfare a ways on toward Patric’s wine house. You made your way to it. Much of the crowd that had gathered when you stole Bernat out from his home still stood transfixed at the sudden violence of the day. Voices began to whisper, murmur, spread, people walked off too briskly to pass the word.
Bernat’s father strode out from the press of people, face wary and worried, hand working feverishly down his long, coarse beard. He swallowed as he approached you, his hands finding ever more extravagant ways to keep from reaching toward his son.
