Huge Ajax's Arc

Chapter 136 of 619

By afternoon the north wall stood a course higher. A shirtless sweaty Ajax set a stone, wiped his hands, and turned to find Asher waiting at the corner. Asher had been his first sworn man, banished once for dosing Marco's wine and taken back under hard terms: no power on any man, distance kept from Marco, the rear of the line under Grayson. The new moon was close. Asher had ridden every day since without a slip. "A word," Asher said. Ajax nodded him behind the wall where the wind cut the sound. "Marco," Asher said. "Do I still keep off him." Ajax looked at him. The chain at Asher's throat caught the light. His shirt was buttoned low the way he wore it, dust on the cuffs from hauling stone with the crew. "Why ask now," Ajax said. "Six days to the gate. After that my ride ends. I want to know where I stand before then." "You've held to the terms." "I have." Ajax weighed him. Asher had called guards right twice on the hall breach. He had killed the axeman coming for Ajax's back. He rode the middle now, not the rear, because he had earned it. The power he carried had not shown itself in weeks. "Marco rejected you once," Ajax said. "You know that." "I know." "If he tells you no again, you take it." "I will." "No dosed cup. No thought pushed. Nothing in his head that isn't yours to say out loud." "Nothing." Ajax let the silence sit. Asher didn't fill it. That, more than the words, was what moved him. "Then the rule's done," Ajax said. "You can speak to him. Sit by him. Whatever he agrees to. Same as any man in camp under the consent rule." Asher's mouth tightened. He nodded once. "Say it back to me," Ajax said. "I keep off him unless he says otherwise. No power. If he says no, it stays no." "Sworn." "Sworn." Asher walked out from behind the wall. Ajax watched him cross the shelf toward the fire pit where Marco was sharpening a blade on the whetstone. Marco looked up. His hand stopped moving on the stone. Asher stopped a pace short of him. He said something Ajax couldn't hear. Marco set the blade down. He didn't stand. He didn't wave Asher off. He tipped his chin at the log across from him. Asher sat. A shirtless sweaty Grayson came up beside Ajax with a stone on his shoulder. He looked at the two men by the fire, then at Ajax. "You cleared it," Grayson said. "I did." Grayson set the stone on the course. Ajax turned back to the wall. Five days to the gate. Two of his sworn men were talking again across a fire, and whatever came of it was theirs to carry now, not his.