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Chapter 27… Drunk.
Gilan tried the bow. The pulled the string back, hard from the sticky glue, and realised the arrow. The short-bow created a small arch before hitting the target board. The arrow with less power behind it than a normal long bow, that Gilan was used too, dropped millimetres beneath the middle ring of the board. It was still good shot but Gilan frowned. He tried again hitting the centre. Nodding he turned to Murray.
'It's not got a big enough draw weight,' he said keeping the calm face that he knew people under used all the time.
'Okay, try the next one,' Murray nodded towards the rack of weapons. Gilan approached the rack and inspected the weapons. He knew none of them had a heavy draw weight and also that they wouldn't be able to shot very far. They were hunter's toys not weapons.
He took the largest one and plastered an uncomplaining smile on his face. He took stance. Lode. Inhale. Aim. Exhale. Shoot. Again the bow didn't feel powerful under his fingers. He wished for a long bow.
Gilan kept shooting. All his arrows hitting the middle ring of the target. He tried to not complain about the weapon. He made himself comply with anything anyone said. He kept up his act.
Gilan had found out that the substance they put in his blood stream to put him under just had to be wiped out in the first minute, before it hand time to move around his blood, to stop himself form going under. He let the physician put the stuff on waited for the men to leave his tent and wiped the stuff away. He knew that the stuff lasted for twelve hour at the most so he kept up the act for different times each day.
He'd found it easier to keep up the act now because they whole army was moving forward again. Slowly at first but they were nearing the sea. He managed to stay with small groups in the evenings and listened to their conversations. He had grown accustomed to using the other tongue but sometimes he longed to have a conversation in Arluan. But most of all he kept his eyes on Will and Halt.
'None of them feel right,' he said to Murray, nodding towards the rack to bows.
'Alright you can make one,' said Murray to him.
He moved over to the group of trees surrounding the track. Moving with the shadows, gliding silently. He looked around for a tree he liked and started to clave wood from the trunk.
'Annnnnd you'd never k-now hooow I fould that out would 'ya,' said the person on Gilan's left, his words slurred from the strong drink in his hand.
'I do-no,' replied another.
'No you can't 'cose-' said the man taking a swig of the drink, 'I found out all on me own.'
The other man wrinkled his nose, 'I was the cook house 'were-it?'
'Nooooooooo,' said the other man sitting up straighter.
'You sure about that?'
'Yes. Wait know. Wait I don't know!' both men burst into laughter.
'What you to talking about?' asked Gilan.
'Weeeeeeel it's a secret so I can't really tell you,' said one of them. The other punched him in the arm and they both started laughing again.
'Come on, I'll get you another drink from the kitchen,' said Gilan.
'Fine but you got to be really, really, really quite about it 'cose we're not ser-post to know,' said the man leading in.
'Fine,' promised Gilan.
'I heard-' Started the man.
'From the kitchen,' added other much to the annoyance to the other.
'As I was saying I 'eard that some peoples went to Iberion to get ships so that we could go to the island thingy,' the other nodded.
'What's the island thingy?' Gilan asked.
'Um… can't remember the name… um Arluan or something like that.'
As promised Gilan snuck in to the kitchen tent to get the two men new bottles of beer but his mind was elsewhere. He was not sure if the two men had been telling the truth about the invasion on Arluan but he couldn't stop the small sense of panic in his gut. If it was true he would have to warn them.
Suddenly the cook came bustling into flocking a heard of helpers. He was shouting orders and Gilan took that time to slip behind the store cupboard. You didn't want to be found in the kitchen tent if you could help it. The cook had the same natural aim that one could only compare with Master Chub from Remounts kitchens.
Another man followed the cook. Dressed in silver plated armour that looked as if it had never been used, he guessed it was the king's son. Gilan had seen him once before and decided that the man was just another stuck-up noble waiting for his father to die so that he could inherit the throne. Even now the man looked down with a sneer of distaste on the cook and his helpers.
Gilan leaned forward listening to catch their conversation.
'Well it's going to take some time,' muttered the cook.
'My father and I don't have time unlike you. You have three days before we load the ships and I expect all the supplies to be ready,' sneered the Prince.
'Yes My Lord,' nodded the cook.
So they were going over sea, but that didn't mean to Arluan thought Gilan.
'Remember there has to be enough for all the ships and the journeys going to take at least four days,' Added the prince.
'Yes, My Lord.'
'And, we expect that once we arrive there will be woods to hunt in but we must have extra supplies just in case.'
'Yes-'
'Stop interrupting me!' The cook didn't reply that time, 'Anyway as I was going to say, you need to hurry I really shouldn't have to remind you that my father is not a patient man and we need to get to Arluan soon.'
Dun Dun Dun!
