She grunted and frowned and ran behind the open roadside stand after asking where she could wash up. Quint tried to keep from smiling while he spread the map of Racellia on the rickety table.
Quint ran his finger along the route to the border where his other map would take over and refreshed his memory of their route when Amaria returned.
“That’s the map?” she asked.
“Does it look like the map? The capital is labeled Bocarre.”
“I know,” she said brusquely. “Why are we going a roundabout way?”
“Pozella has traveled widely, and he chose a route where there are inns that aren’t hostile to hubites,” Quint said. “I might as well restrict being in danger to the battlefield.”
“You are afraid?” Amaria mockingly asked.
“Concerned that if I’m not careful, I won’t be able to complete my orders,” Quint said. “I’ve been beaten up by soldiers in the Wizard Corps annex and know how that feels.”
“You aren’t accusing my father of anything!”
“No, but I’m not safe there like I am within the Strategic Operations division, not that everyone is a friend. For example, you have often exhibited hostility,” Quint bluntly said.
“I suppose you can look at your situation like that.”
“I appreciate your permission,” Quint said. “We can make our journey more pleasant or less pleasant, but it is up to you, not me.”
Amaria was interrupted by the proprietor taking their snack and drink order. She looked at their horses, tied at the same post. “I suppose a truce will make life better for me if we have some conditions.”
“I could agree to adhere to something benign as long as we travel on my route.”
Amaria thought for a few moments after their quick meal was delivered.
“We don’t share a room. We stay together while riding, but you always ride in front.”
Quint smiled. It was as if she was escorting him somewhere. He knew enough strings to leave her at any time, but Pozella had told him he must arrive on the battlefield to fulfill his assignment.
“I can do that,” Quint said. He was more comfortable traveling with someone since he had never gone on a journey as long as this one by himself. If a willot accompanied him, the reactions to his light skin color and eyes might be mitigated by Amaria’s presence.
She extended her hand across the table. “Shake to seal the agreement.”
Quint didn’t put much stock into shaken hands. Customers had stiffed his father after shaking hands, so he didn’t put much faith in others.
“That’s fair,” Quint said, repressing a smile. “Do you need to go over the map anymore? We can get going now.”
They mounted and continued their journey. The inn Pozella suggested was a few hours away, but Quint thought they should reach the village before sunset.
Amaria kept her mouth shut and her temper hot. She snapped back at Quint when he asked her questions about their assignment.
“I hardly know myself!” Amaria said. “I was told to pack up and requisition a horse this morning. My father said I was to babysit you, but I’ll be damned if I’ll do that.” Amaria said. “You behave yourself.”
Quint wondered how she expected him to misbehave, but he had detected a faint odor of fear in her voice. Was Amaria afraid of him? She had to be a few years older, and Quint was still a gangly sixteen-year-old whose male hormones hadn’t quite kicked in yet.
He wouldn’t be a threat, even if he met the physical requirements. He had no interest in a snappy, ill-tempered young woman older than himself. He had enough of those in the school he had graduated from not long ago.
“You are letting your imagination get ahead of yourself,” Quint said.
“Not me! I’m an educated woman!” she said.
Amaria was losing her grip with each league from Bocarre.
“Do we need to make a more specific handshake agreement?” Quint said.
“Stop, right there!”
Quint stopped his horse and let her ride up behind him. He didn’t know if she was going to attack him. He didn’t think she was currently very stable.
She rode to his side. “I can’t stand riding with you. I think we should split up,” she said.
“I don’t mind, but I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to ride alone.”
Amaria snorted and blinked her eyes. “You don’t think I can protect myself?”
“Do you want to get in a situation where you must fight off brigands or drunk farmers?” Quint asked. “If there are two of us, there will be less temptation. Rural people don’t always act rationally.”
“You know that from personal experience?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. My father has returned from his trips delivering and repairing wheels after being beaten up. He’s a handy man with his fists, too. It’s worse at night.”
“Hubites!” Amaria snorted.
