'Mancy? Oh, Emancipor Reese. Where's the cat, by the way?'
Buke barked a laugh. 'Ran off — just like all our horses and we had an even dozen of them after those stupid bandits attacked us. Ran off, once I'd done prying its claws from Mancy's back, which was where it jumped when all the warrens broke loose.'
Repairs completed and carriage righted, the journey resumed. A league or two of daylight remained. Stonny once again rode to point, Cafal and Netok taking their places ranging on the flanks. Emancipor guided the carriage, the two sorcerers having retired within.
Buke and Gruntle walked a few paces ahead of Keruli's carriage, saying little for a long while, until the captain sighed heavily and glanced at his friend. 'For what it's worth, there's people who don't want to see you dead, Buke. They see you wasting away inside, and they care enough so that it pains them-'
'Guilt's a good weapon, Gruntle, or at least it has been for a long time. Doesn't cut any more, though. If you choose to care, then you better swallow the pain. I don't give a damn, myself.'
'Stonny-'
'Is worth more than messing herself up with me. I'm not interested in being saved, anyway. Tell her that.'
'You tell her, Buke, and when she puts her fist in your face just remember that I warned you here and now. You tell her — I won't deliver your messages of self-pity.'
'Back off, Gruntle. I'd hurt you bad before you finished using those cutlasses on me.'
'Oh, that's sweet — get one of your few remaining friends to kill you. Seems I was wrong, it's not just self-pity, is it? You're not obsessed with the tragic deaths of your family, you're obsessed with yourself, Buke. Your guilt's an endlessly rising tide, and that ego of yours is a levee and all you do is keep slapping fresh bricks on it. The wall gets higher and higher, and you're looking down on the world from a lofty height — with a Hood-damned sneer.'
Buke was pale and trembling. 'If that's the way you see it,' he rasped, 'then why call me friend at all?'
Beru knows, I'm beginning to wonder. He drew a deep breath, managed to calm himself down. 'We've known each other a long time. We've never crossed blades.' And you were in the habit of getting drunk for days on end, a habit you broke. but one I haven't. Took the deaths of everyone you loved to do that, and I'm terrified it might take the same for me.
Thank Hood the lass married that fat merchant.
'Doesn't sound like much, Gruntle.'
We're two of a kind, you bastard — cut past your own ego and you'd see that fast enough. But he said nothing.