Skandra stared at his hand for a long moment, and then at Ithacles, before he withdrew it with a false sneer. The fellow was probably angry at having to come and find Skandra, then offer to mention some preening fool's name to his father. Well, Skandra had written a letter. Ithacles was the one who decided to answer it. That made it his fault, and Skandra would have none of the blame for something Ithacles chose to do to himself. Thus the sneer. If Baldvas was surprised by anything that Skandra could do, he did not show it, instead only peering at Ithacles for a long moment through half-lidded eyes. Finally the Captain swept his most effusive bow, and without a word walked away. Stalked away. Skandra had only seen a woman manage so angry a step before today. Every forceful jab of his heel against the stone seemed designed to crack the earth apart.
Watching Baldvas go afforded him time to shove the clove into one corner of his mouth, clamped between two rows of teeth.
"Wouldn't it be King Ithunvel?" Skandra asked idly.
When they both stared at him, he gave a shrug as small as the smile on his face.
"He's the king of Faustben, isn't he? So shouldn't I call him King Ithunvel instead of Lord Ithun-"
The dire stare that Ithacles fixed him with had probably unhorsed entire armies. Clearly he wasn't in the mood for jokes. That kept him from finishing his question. It had seemed at the time to be very appropriate and very proper. Oh, right. The tart he walked around with had been given a rank and thought she deserved it. Well, if Ithacles had promised her a promotion for something, Skandra didn't want to know about it. Probably better to get on with the facts of the day and leave out whatever annoying questions of protocol that came up in his mind. Since when had Ithacles become a joyless boor? He hadn't even offered a drink yet.
For a single, horrifying moment he wondered if Lethe had forced Ithacles to give up the elixir of life.
No, that was impossible.
"I was dicing in a tavern," Skandra reported in a mutter. "Some fellow in a brown robe, and some fellow with the king's mark on his neck. They were discussing the terms of a sale. The king's man was going to give himself to the fellow in the brown robe. Said something about King Ithunvel..."
Skandra scratched his chin, but not because he couldn't remember. He just wanted to annoy his friend. When it became clear that wasn't working, he went on.
"He gives us a brand and thinks of us as cattle marked to die. That's what the fellow said. Started to say something else, but the fellow in brown robes cut him off. Not before saying, The goal is the king. Not sure what sort of conversation they were having, but I'm fairly certain it wasn't about Crowns or boar hunting. Then your idiot Captain - not you, beautiful - throws a cudgel into my gods-damned skull for interrupting their conversation. If he suspects me of something, it's probably because he was about to throw someone in jail, and I ruined it. Given how incompetent he is..."
Skandra trailed off.
"My head is on-fucking-fire," he reported finally.