One of the first pair was grinning now. "Do you know whose camp you're in? And since when did your lot pay for anything?"
Sandon met the grin levelly. "I have some credits," he said. "Or I can work. I have been doing what the Prophet wills."
"Go on. Get out of here," said the grinning face dismissively, the expression now becoming less amused.
"Wait, Jask," said another one. "The Principal wouldn't like it."
The man called Jask frowned. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."
"Please, brother," said Sandon. "You must have plenty to feed all these animals. You must be able to spare a little."
"I said get out of here." Jask's voice had lifted a little, and he stood and took a step forward. "Now. Go on. Take your stinking beast away from here."
"And the rest of you, brothers?" said Sandon, turning to the rest of the group. Three avoided looking at him, but the one that had spoken before was chewing his lip, watching, and he too rose slowly to his feet.
"Jask?" he said quietly.
"Damn you, Fran," said Jask, glancing at his companion. "No, damn you. You can keep your stupid religious nonsense to yourself."
A hiss came from another of those seated about the heater, now openly watching the exchange.
A motion from one of the nearby tents, and the flap was shoved to one side revealing a tall, thin figure. Sandon would recognize that frame anywhere. Witness Kovaar. He lifted a hand to pull his hood further about his face. Kovaar strode across to the group.
"What's going on here?" he asked in his thin reedy voice as he approached.
One of the other men in the group muttered in a low voice as he neared. "Now you've done it, Jask."
"Nothing to worry about, Witness Kovaar," said Jask. "Just one of those Atavists looking for what he can get. We can handle it."
Kovaar drew up beside the man, and with merely a glance at Sandon, peered at Jask with narrowed eyes. He looked back at Sandon, seeming to both study him and be thinking at the same time. Sandon gave the barest of nods, hoping that the poor light and his changed appearance would be enough. Witness Kovaar, after a moment, returned the nod with the barest inclination of his head.
"This is one of the Prophet's people. Do you know what he wants? Have you asked?"
The man called Jask shrank back from Kovaar's gaze. "Said he wanted some feed for the animal."
"Well give it to him."
"Said he wanted to stay here the night."
Kovaar glanced back at Sandon, gave him another assessing look, then spoke. "Well let him."
"But..."
"Did you not hear me? Give him what he wants. It is our duty by the Prophet's will." He turned on his heel and without another word, strode back to his tent and disappeared inside.
The look on Jask's face was like he had swallowed something bad. "You'd better come with me," he said sullenly.
Sandon dismounted and followed, leading his padder back to the line of tethered beasts staked further behind the line of tents. It looked like he'd gotten away with it?so far. There had been no sign yet that Kovaar had seen through his subterfuge. But then, there was something not right as well; it was Kovaar who had appeared from the tent to see what was creating the fuss. It was Kovaar who had ordered the men around. Where was Leannis Men Darnak, and how had Kovaar managed to gain such a hold on the Principal's affairs. Sandon was immediately more concerned than he had been before. Men Darnak's men were deferring to the odious priest. And what had that look of calculating assessment Kovaar had given him been about? Certainly, on the surface of things, they were both men of the Prophet in their own ways, and the teachings of the Church spoke of charity, but there was something more there. Sandon chewed this over as the grudging Jask set him up for the night. One thing was sure; the fates were shining his way to have allowed him to come even this far. He would have to wait and see exactly how long that good fortune lasted.
#
