Book One – Chapter 15

On the night by the campfire, Yu lingered just long enough to choke down his share of the meal. It was a lukewarm paste flecked with chunks of unidentifiable meat and tough grains. No one talked much, which suited him just fine. As soon as his tin plate was scraped clean, he withdrew into himself, shutting out the droning talk of repairs, inventory assessments, and other practical matters he would neither contribute to nor care about. Conversations drained Yu, especially with strangers. He had never practised the art of casual talk, and even if he had, he doubted he would find any value in it here. He had never had what you would call conventional friends and he did not expect to find any amongst this group of escorts that basically got paid to have him around. That was quite all right by him, actually, since he was not interested in socialising anyway. Socialising was exhausting, so this was just fine.

Bundled into his sleeping sack and swaddled in layers of damp, scratchy blankets, Yu huddled close to the fire. His eyes remained closed for the most part, though now and then he watched the flames. It was not much of a fire. It was a small, tightly controlled and utterly functional thing, nothing that smoked or produced much heat. There were no dancing sparks or warmth to offer comfort, just a smouldering heap of coal mixed with ground borrin powder that burned low and steady. A metal cage confined it, a skeletal structure that served as both a windbreak and a rudimentary stove.

At least these people knew what they were doing. Their equipment seemed forged for the bleak realities of the Albweiss Mountains: weatherproofed clothing that made the bitter cold almost bearable; alchemical powders for vitality and endurance that clung to the air with a faintly acrid tang; and a bunch of items enchanted for protection. The provisions were as compact as they were bleak. Food came from bricks of compressed mush, powders that bloated into a viscous sludge when mixed with water — slobber that was all texture and nutrients, with every hint of flavour sacrificed to efficiency. No matter how hungry he got, Yu found no joy in eating it, only the mechanical certainty of survival, spooned down in silence.