Part 5 (1/2)
free to lop off heads and other gruesome things, without the burden of a husband. No doubt my head will be the first one to be lopped once my healing talents are no longer needed.”
”Huh?” Ras.h.i.+d said to this long-winded discourse.
”Never mind. Speaking of Alrek, look over there.”
Alrek was running through the clearing where the tents were pitched, dodging tent poles and campfires,
his skinny legs pumping madly as he panted like a warhorse. Adam looked at Ras.h.i.+d, and Ras.h.i.+d looked
at him; then they both shrugged, indicating their confusion over why Alrek was on the run.
Soon they discovered the answer. His pursuer was about to pa.s.s them, stomping doggedly in Alrek's path. She didn't bother to swagger now, so angry did she appear to be. But that wasn't the most amazing thing.
”Oh, Mistress Viking!” Adam called out.
Reluctantly, Tyra stopped and glared at him. ”What?” she snapped.
”Did you know you have an arrow sticking out of your backside?”
Her hands fisted, her face went rigid, and a sound came from her throat that sounded very much like a
growl. ”Yea, you lunkhead, I know there is an arrow in my backside. Why did you think I was chasing after Alrek? And wipe that grin off your face, man, or I will do it for you.”
”Would you like me to remove it?” he asked sweetly.
”What? The grin?”
”The arrow.”
”Nay, I do not want you touching any part of my body, and certainly not that part. Besides, I thought you had given up medicine.”
”For this, I would be willing to make an exception.” He was still grinning, but he meant it. For a view of
her naked backside, he would do just about anything.
Tyra told him to do something that he was fairly certain was physically impossible and continued on her pursuit of Alrek.
G.o.d, he was beginning to develop a taste for sharp-tongued women. That surprised him mightily. He'd
always preferred gentle, soft-spoken women in the past.
”Well, so much for your seduction skills,” Ras.h.i.+d opined dolefully.
A short silence ensued before Adam turned to stare at his friend. ”Why are your eyes closed? Why are your lips moving without making a sound?”
”I decided the best course is to join Alrek in praying for a miracle.”
”We have to talk.”
Oooh, lady, talk is not what I have in mind. My arms and legs ache from being in the same position so long. My b.u.t.tocks feel like they have no flesh on them from sitting on this hard ground. Come closer, you irksome, infuriating daughter of the Devil, and see what kind of talk I have for you.
It was dusk, more light than dark yet, and Adam had been resting. He opened his eyes now... just a crack to look at Tyra, who was easing herself down to the ground beside him. He noticed that she lowered herself to her knees, not her backside, and that she winced at one point from stretching the skin surrounding the wound, which had apparently been st.i.tched up an hour ago by the sometimes blacksmith, sometimes berserker, Bjorn.
”Lackbrain lad!” she murmured as she rubbed one nether cheek. Obviously, she was referring to Alrek, and not Bjorn. He wondered if Alrek was suffering a sore backside as well... sore from the whip of a birch branch which he'd seen Tyra brandis.h.i.+ng a short time ago. Once settled on her knees, she groaned softly.
Good! I hope your a.r.s.e pains you mightily, wench, because you have been more than a pain in the a.r.s.e to me. He decided not to share those opinions with her now, but he surely would later.
Instead, he said, ”I'm not talking to you till you release these bonds. You need a lesson in diplomacy, my lady,”amongst other things . ”One should not maltreat the person from whom one seeks favors. And, believe you me, asking a physician to treat a man unconscious for sennights is a big favor, especially when he will no doubt be surrounded by a horde of bloodthirsty Vikings who would as soon lop off the physician's head at the first sign of death pallor in the patient.” He pressed his lips together in an exaggerated fas.h.i.+on, indicating that his talking time was over.
From inside the tent where Ras.h.i.+d had already gone for the night, following a meal of venison and venison... and more venison-but at least notgammelost-he heard his busybody Arab friend add to the conversation, uninvited, ”The wise man treads softly amongst tigers.”
”What does that mean?” Tyra asked him.
He refused to respond, but what he thought was,Who says Ras.h.i.+d's proverbs have to mean anything?
”The whisper of a pretty girl can be heard farther than the roar of the tiger,” Ras.h.i.+d added.
He sent Ras.h.i.+d a mental message;Shut your teeth .
”Listen. I will admit that I was perhaps less than tactful in convincing you to come with us. If I had had more time, my men and I could have partaken of your hospitality, and...”
Hah! No hospitality was offered by me. He felt a twinge of guilt at that reminder... atiny twinge. Could it be that the warrior-wench would have acted differently if he'd acted hospitably?Nay, nay, nay! I will not allow her to turn the tables on me here. She is the guilty party. She will be the one to pay. Not me !
”... and mayhap I would not have acted so... um, rashly.”
Rashly? Rashly? I would hardly call whacking a man over the head with the flat side of a broadsword merely rash. More like brash. Yea, a brash act, not a rash act. He smiled inwardly at his own wit.
”So, what I wanted to say was... hmmm... well... you see... I didn't come to your keepintending to harm you in any way. Nor did Iplan to take you by... uh, force.” Her face bloomed pink as she stuttered to get the words out... hard words for a prideful woman.
Is this your sorry excuse for an apology? Hah! You will have to do much better than that. Much!
”When you think on it, I am certain you will realize that you have not been treated so badly.” She waved a hand dismissively as if antic.i.p.ating his disagreement. ”I know you resent the ropes, but other than that, you are a guest. Really.”