They were all discussing the girl's future as if she was somehow common property. Of course, Tristan knew that this was simply their mentality – they were all brothers in arms after a fashion and discussed things like a single tribe (albeit a highly noisy, unusual one composed solely of men). This was one of the bizarre points of the Sarmatian conscription which puzzled Tristan. Many of their tribes had been deadly enemies, but the moment all the Sarmatian boys were huddled together amongst the common enemy, they formed their own tribe.
Tristan had never truly participated in their spirited attempts at solidarity – he had always been an outsider, even before the Romans had taken him to the edge of the world to die. It seemed a highly expensive and ridiculous form of execution to him. But he had still grown attached to the other Sarmatians… often grudgingly, but it was undeniable.
For example: the twins. Dinadan was the louder of the two – he was easily riled and preferred bellowing to speaking at normal levels. But he was also the kinder of the two, despite the gruff exterior. Cador was charming, easy-going and venomous when provoked, the complete opposite to his brother.
Kahedin was a trickster, as Cador said. Wily, devious and ruthless to an almost Roman degree, the man only protected the Sarmatians' interests. He was also a scout, and a very talented one at that. But the man's attitude was deceptively laidback; preferring to use his wits rather than his weapons, despite being a deadly warrior when necessary. And it always proved an entertainingly nasty shock to those who thought to give the slender man a hard time.
Moreover, the girl herself was proving to be a very unusual creature: first there was the mystery of her origins (since she did not behave like any girl Tristan had ever encountered), then the way she had charmed his horse, and now her fearless attitude in front of Kahedin who could spot deception in the dark while blind drunk. She seemed to grow steelier by the hour. That too, was worrying. If she grew over-confident, then things were bound to fall apart around them.
The twins were too energetic to be cavorting about in an invalid's sickroom. Kahedin must have noticed the strained expression on Tristan's face and cleared his throat.
"Why don't you two push off to the tavern? I'll be along in a minute."
"But we only just arrived! We want to hear what happened!"
"We have confirmed for ourselves that Tristan isn't dying, so let's leave him alone to recover." Kahedin said with a measure of authority stealing into his tone. He used it so rarely that even Arthur sat up a little straighter when Kahedin was being emphatic about something. In that moment, he fixed the twins with a particularly powerful look. "Consider me Dagonet's representative." He said softly.
The twins needed no further persuasion and they hurriedly left for the tavern – but not without promising to tell everyone that Tristan's new slave was a beauty (Cador) and a devil (Dinadan).
Once they had left and the girl had closed the door, Kahedin turned to stare at her. His expression of affability remained, but Tristan could see the calculating light in his eyes as he inspected her. But the girl ignored his stare and kept looking ahead fixedly. Kahedin moved closer to her, the interest plain on his face.
"So he's a scribe?" he said, not turning to look at Tristan as he spoke. "Let's have a look at you, then. And take off that tunic." He ordered. With a scowl, Kation wriggled out of the baggy outer tunic that had been serving in place of a cloak, and crossed her arms with a frown.
"And turn around." Kahedin prompted. The scowl continued to mar the girl's face as she turned around slowly on the spot. Kahedin's eyes drank in the sight, noticing every detail. "Scrawny little mite, isn't he?" he said regretfully. The girl was staring straight ahead, into Kahedin's chest, as if she could freeze him with her gaze; and in that moment, he half-believed his fellow knight to frost over. She had that ice in her eyes again – just like the time Tristan had slapped her. He did not doubt she was angry at him.
This was not going well.
"Well, I think that this little cat could be very useful indeed." Kahedin said, "Oh yes…" There was the tiniest note of something foreboding in his voice and Tristan, ever perceptive, felt his gut clench.
"Just don't break him," was all Tristan muttered.
Taking that as confirmation, Kahedin smiled at them both. "Well, I'd best be off before Gawain or Lancelot pick up all the girls." And then he was gone with a last, lingering look at Kation who returned it stoically.
There was a moment's silent stillness, then the girl turned to look at Tristan. Her hands were balled at her sides. She seemed very intent on hurting him, grabbing the front of his tunic and shaking him with more force than he would have expected her to be capable of.
"I should just kill you right now!" she hissed through clenched teeth. "What exactly did he mean? And what in hell does 'break' signify in this context?"
"He probably means to train you to become an errand boy for him. He can be quite demanding…" Tristan sighed, then added "and he likes women, so you're safe." It was a last ditch effort to placate her.
And it seemed to work. She let go of him, turning away to limp to the window, staring out at the Wall and the meadow beyond as if they held the answers she sought. "Hardly. He suspected me from the moment he walked in. And if you didn't notice that, I may as well abandon all hope now." She said sarcastically, thinking of practical things again, despite still being angry with him about something unfathomable. Honestly, the girl ought to be more grateful! Didn't she realise the risks that Tristan was taking?
"I will deal with him." Tristan sighed. He really didn't want Kahedin to know the truth – the man gave new definition to the word 'trouble'. And unlike Gawain, he wouldn't confront them until he had infallible proof.
"But you are injured and therefore utterly useless. How on earth could you 'deal with him'?" She sighed, raking a hand through her hair. "This is such a galling situation." Anger was seeping back into her tone.
"There we do agree." Tristan grunted. He was feeling thirsty again, but knew better than to say anything to the girl. Instead, he simply lay back, unwilling to antagonise her further but keeping an eye on her nonetheless. He still didn't really trust her.
"So I am to be responsible for Tagiytei?" she asked.
"And you will work for Arthur – if he likes you."
She merely twitched her eyebrows derisively and shrugged; Tristan was struck by just how hostile she was. As if everyone was an enemy even before she'd met them. The sentiment was commendable, but misplaced when it concerned Arthur and most of the knights.
"And… what about Sarakos?" she asked, her voice smaller.
Tristan stilled. Kay would have no more use for the horse, so… "He'll probably be sold back to the Roman cavalry, or taken to market."
The girl's shoulders sagged slightly. "I would like to have had him." She murmured.
There was no denying her ability to spot good horses: Sarakos was one of the prize horses of the stables and drew considerable admiration and envy, even from the other knights.
"That's impossible – but perhaps a knight will buy him. If they can afford him." He said. It was cold comfort, but he didn't feel like trying to cheer her up. But his words finally made her turn narrowed grey eyes upon him. They were steely with something devious and determined. Tristan was very familiar with the conniving expressions of his fellow knights' faces and was therefore unmoved.
"Oh no. I have wasted enough money on you already – I do not have the funds for purchasing a war horse for you too."
The eyes narrowed even further. "What sort of wage does a Sarmatian conscript earn?"
"I am not made of money, girl!" Tristan growled. Although unlike the others, he did not waste his wages on women and wine, so he had considerably more than most of the knights. "Besides, any money I may have saved, I will have to say I spent when purchasing you."
She sighed and the frustrated expression was making a comeback. "If you're going to be so simple-minded about this, then I shan't include you in my further plans." She fetched the waterskin and handed it to him. "Perhaps Gawain will help." She muttered.
Tristan doubted the likelihood of such aid, but decided to let her learn first-hand that Gawain's favours only extended so far and there was always a price to pay.
"Hmm…" she frowned slightly. "It's too stuffy in here." She went to the door and wedged it open with one of Tristan's boots, creating a slight, but refreshing draught. "You're still a little feverish." Then she bathed his face and neck with a damp cloth which she refreshed from the terracotta basin on the table he usually reserved for shaving. Speaking of which, he hadn't shaved in nearly a week; his whole jaw was itching and it certainly contributed to his already short temper. Perhaps he could sit over the bed and shave himself with the girl holding the basin…
Tristan was grateful for the quiet as she focused on her self-appointed task. Her touches were impersonal and light, certainly not like the overt attempts at seduction that some women had tried. Tristan disliked to be touched unnecessarily, but for some reason the way the girl grudgingly but thoroughly cared for him wasn't at all unpleasant.
"About our presumed relationship…" he murmured as the girl checked the wound on his shoulder, bending over him to peer at it closely. "I will continue to deny it."
Her face clouded into that unreadable expression again as she sat back. "Let's get this tunic off; it's disgusting and will cause infection." She murmured. That wasn't what she was thinking about – it had something to do with their presumed 'relationship'.
Undressing was an uncomfortable process, but the girl seemed to try to make it a fast and painless experience. The autumn air made him feel a little cold, but if Nat— no, Kation noticed, she didn't say or do anything about it. She threw the tunic into a corner and then turned back to him.
"I'm going." She said, grabbing her tunic and tugging it over her head again.
"Where?" Tristan asked - he didn't like the idea of her running off where he couldn't watch over her and protect her. She was still so new, someone might hurt her.
"The stables." She replied shortly.
The decisiveness in her tone brooked no room for argument, so Tristan only said: "Take a knife."
"What?" she looked at him sharply.
"You never know…" he said, shrugging with his one good shoulder. Kation went over to his hoard of weapons and selected a knife and tucked it into the sash where it was hidden by the outer tunic.
"I think you worry too much." She said with a slight smile.
That stopped him. Why was she smiling? He was about to ask her when she turned away and left.