After their eventful lunchtime stop, the whole party is happy to get underway again. Allistra frowns at the tensions apparent between members of the party but, as yet, says nothing.
Throughout the afternoon, the only sound is the clop of horses hooves and the creak of the wagons. They pass no-one, and there are no threats to their passage. Despite this - or, perhaps, because of it - the rest of the day drags interminably.
The time finally arrives, however, when Allistra signals a halt. This time they pull off the road a little, onto the flat plain through which they are travelling, and set up for the night. The weather is warm and the sky is clear but the party members still welcome the sight of the fire which Milak lights to cook the evening meal. After the tensions of the day, a good, hot meal will be very welcome.
Unfortunately, a good, hot meal is not forthcoming. Well, it is hot …
After a couple of mouthfulls, Allistra screws up her face, throws down her plate and says, “Milak, you promised me you were going to have some more lessons.”
“This stuff is terrible.”
She’s right.
Milak indignantly proclaims, “Ah don’t need onie lessons! Ah keep tellin' ye, Ah learnt frae th' Master Chef ay mah Clan - an' he said he’d ne'er tasted cookin' loch mine. Sae gonnae-no yer girnin'!”
He then spoons a huge dollop of the … stew? … into his mouth and chews loudly and defiantly.
Allistra snorts in disgust and says to the four guards, “Can any of you cook? I don’t know why we keep paying Milak as camp cook. His meals are always inedible. Jendral, remind me to take it up with that stubborn brother of mine when we get back!”
Jendral just rolls his eyes, and picks despondently at what’s in his plate.
“Look, if anyone can cook better than Milak - and let’s face it, it wouldn’t be hard - I’ll … I’ll double your pay. I don’t care about the profits. I’m sick of eating this swill.”
