One day she planned to piss on that box, but not yet. She wanted something substantial to piss on. A real tower of piss-scrolls.
Gemma took her place beside her battle-cohorts, bracing her legs apart, clasping her hands behind her back. She waited while one of the generals began to drone on about . . . something. She honestly wasn’t paying attention. Life was too short to be this bored.
Finally, after a good thirty minutes—she hadn’t even had a bath yet! Did they not see she’d just come back from another hard-won battle? Couldn’t all this have waited until she had gotten the blood of her enemies out of her hair? It was so damn sticky! She wanted nothing more than to scratch her scalp with both hands!—the general got to the point.
“On this day, we brothers are here to advance you cohorts from lieutenants to majors and to grant upon you all the benefits that accompany said advancement.”
Huh. Look at that. She was getting a promotion. That was nice.
“Please, Brother Shona, Brother Kir, Brother Gemma, and Brother Katla, repeat after me—”
“Wait!” a voice rang out.
Brother Thomassin, an elder, looked up from the important missives he’d been reading during this whole boring ordeal. “Brother Sprenger?”
Sprenger walked into the center of the chamber and stood there a moment for maximum effect before announcing, “I refuse to sanction this advancement for Brother Gemma.”
Thomassin stood so fast, his chair skidded back, nearly knocking out his poor assistant, which was actually kind of funny because the man was six-five and nearly three hundred pounds. He’d fought in more wars than Gemma could count. But then so had Thomassin.
Gemma’s battle-cohorts didn’t hide their annoyance either. They dropped their proper “listening to their superiors” poses and stood ready to argue with anyone and everyone.
The only one who didn’t react much was Ragna. Although she did smirk. The bitch.
“She is not ready for such an advancement and if you insist on this course,” Sprenger continued, “I will be forced to take this to the grand master.”
“Excellent,” Thomassin shot back. “Why don’t we all take it to the grand master this very minute? I’m sure he’d love to hear your reasons as to why—”
“It’s okay.”
The brothers stopped arguing and everyone focused on her.
“What was that, Brother Gemma?” Thomassin asked.
“I said it’s okay, Brother Thomassin.” She shrugged. “I’ll wait until next time.”
“No,” Katla pushed. “You will not wait until next time. We all go now or we all wait—”
“Do not get hysterical.”
“I am not hysterical. I’m pissed.”
“If you don’t get the rank now,” Shona reminded her, “you’ll have to wait another five years before you’ll be eligible again.”
Gemma shrugged. “Those are the rules.”
“How are you okay with this?” Kir asked. “I’m not okay with this.”
“But I am okay with it.” And she really was. Of course, the reason she was okay with it was because—
“How is that possible?” Sprenger asked, now standing right in front of her, leaning in close to ask her the question. “Are you plotting something?”
That was such a weird, insane question. “Plotting what? What is there to plot?”
“Your battle-cohorts will be advancing. You will not.”
“And yet . . . life goes on. Amazing, isn’t it? For example, we had this pig—”
“Pig?”
“Yes. And Daddy loved that pig. He didn’t think he’d ever get over the death of it. But the pig had piglets. And soon, he had to go on. Because there were piglets to take care of. You see?”
Gemma let her smile fade and she began to frown, focusing her gaze on his jaw.
“Brother Sprenger . . . is that a rash?”
“What?” he asked, leaning away from her.
“Yes. Right . . .” She took her middle finger and forefinger and slid them along her own jawline. “Here.”
He instinctively slapped his hand over the old wound, his glare for her and her alone. When her smile returned, wider and—she was sure—brighter than before, he took that same hand and pulled it back as if to backhand her.
“Brother Sprenger!” Thomassin barked, stopping Sprenger before he did something he could not come back from.
“I was just going to suggest a good healer in town who can help with that sort of rash, Brother,” Gemma lied. She shrugged and looked to Brother Thomassin and the other elders. “Since I am no longer needed here . . . ?”
Angry and frustrated for Gemma but not wanting to turn the situation into a bigger dilemma than it already was, Thomassin dismissed her with a wave of his hand.