A woman who’s afraid can still sleep, even if she doesn’t believe that she’s sleeping. She can hear things. She can feel things. She can even think. But time flies by, and she’s asleep. Only her subconscious is awake.
When she opened her eyes Hellrien noticed the change of color in the window, covered by dirty curtains. The brightness of the day had gradually started to change into the gloom of the evening. Hellrien sat up stiffly, felt the gnawing hunger below her ribs and in her mouth the dry, bitter taste that suppressed all thoughts of eating. She remained sitting at the edge of the camp bed leaning her elbows on her knees and fingers shoved in her thick hair. She rubbed her head forcefully using her fingertips at first, then her knuckles. Gradually the fog evaporated from her eyes, and she was amazed. She had thought she had slept only for a little while, but it was getting dark already.
A couple of hours later it was already far into the night. An oil lamp was smoking on the table, and the wind howled outside on the corners of the house.
Ingrandor came out of the house with two cups of warm tea and joined Hellrien, who was sitting by a crate that served as a small makeshift table in the patio. He put one cup on the crate for her and kept the other in his left hand, passing it to the night.
”Tea?” he asked.
”Thank you.”
Ingrandor looked at the yard and sat down. He sipped the tea slowly after blowing the steam away.
”It almost feels as if we're farmers and gaze at a day's work, no?”
Hellrien lifted her eyes from her work. There was a sword aslant on her lap. She had been carefully polishing it for quite a while now.
”Wouldn't feel so bad, would it?” she said softly, sipping her tea.
”On one hand no, on the other work all day to enjoy a couple of hours at night… In what we do and how work is right now, sit all day, fight half an hour. I'll take the latter.” Ingrandor smirked and sat back on the chair and crossed his legs, left over right.
Rosethorn looked at the sellswords sitting by the crate. The foreman had rolled up his sleeves. His hair was messed up, and he strolled nervously back and forth across the patio.
”Where did you leave Crampbark?” Hellrien asked.
Ingrandor pointed to the right in the corn field. ”See that post? He's tied to it and gagged.”
Hellrien followed the direction of his finger and noticed the dark shape against the pole. The figure wasn’t moving or making any sound. In the dark of the night it might as well have been a sack of potatoes.
”Oh yeah, I see him now.”
”You want to talk to him?”
”We have to think of something!” Rosethorn moaned. ”We have to, dammit!”
”Maybe later”, Hellrien said. ”Let's first think what we are going to do.”
”You two agree I see. I kept my mind clear this time. Has anyone come up with anything?”
Hellrien laid down her cup, grabbed the file and continued sharpening the blade of her sword. ”Nope”, she said bluntly.
”They might come and pay us a visit then. Let's see.”
”Or we could approach their farm, we could come from any direction”, Rosethorn suggested. ”Surround them and smoke them out like rats!”
”Surround them us four?” Ingrandor laughed a little and then sipped his tea, shaking his head.
”So let us suppose we wait for them then”, Hellrien uttered tiredly. ”Any ideas how we should receive them? They have enough force to surround us and smoke us out.”
”We can always try and scout”, Ingrandor said. ”See what state they're in now that they lost that man.”
Hellrien smiled faintly. ”Okay, I'm fine with that. So should we go tonight... to see what they are up to?”
”The sooner the better. I will have to change though. I can't go scouting in gray and white.”
”I should probably put on something lighter and less sparkling too.”
Ingrandor leaned forward and looked at Hellrien in her hauberk with faintly gilded scales, raising a brow. ”Not that sparkly”, he commented after a long pause.
Hellrien stood up and walked to the window, where she could see the lights in Rose’s room. After a moment of consideration she said: ”Rose, may I use your room? I need to change.”
”Of course”, said Rose, who was sitting on a long bench by the wall.
”I’ll guard the window”, Ingrandor grinned, putting down the empty cup. ”You never know who might be under it!”
Hellrien grinned, walked to the door and entered the farmhouse. In Rose’s room she placed her hat on the bed stand and added the light intensity of the lamp. She removed her heavy hauberk and pulled off her moccasins. She pulled on a pair of black trousers and light, black boots. She pushed her long dagger into her belt. The hilt was pointing diagonally upwards within easy reach for her left hand.
She looked outside and saw nothing. Then she pressed the hat on her head and yanked it down all the way with steady movements. Finally she pushed the hat backwards a little and looked at herself from the mirror. The hat was so far on the back of her head that the top of the hat was askew. She checked her sword next. It was lying tightly in it’s scabbard against her left hip. The hilt was pointing upwards at the same angle as the dagger on the other side. Then she took her cloak and bow, blew out the lamp and stepped outside, shutting the door with her backside.
”Are you ready yet?” she asked Ingrandor.
Ingrandor pushed himself up from the chair and started unbuckling the belts of his outfit. ”I'll go now. I have my bag on the horse.”
He strolled off the patio and across the street to their horses. Polite as ever, he stayed behind the horses as he changed.
