Kre knew that there was a lot being unsaid there, and he knew better than to start asking questions. One look at Druckner’s face told him that he was already at the edge of where the memories were starting to be painful.
“It looks like you did have something to teach me after all,” Kre offered softly. “All I know of those times are from the Tehynshin history books, and I’m quite certain, especially lately, that they’re just a bit biased. Someday I hope to learn the truth of the events of the past. Coming from me, someone who hated history lessons, that says a lot.”
Druckner chuckled, his somber mood seemingly gone now, which had been Kre’s intent. “I ‘spose I did.” Kre had hoped that Druckner would offer to tell him more, or at least offer to share more of the history later on, but the dweorvkin gave no indication of doing so. He supposed that it was too much to really hope for, given how reserved Druckner and his folk seemed to be.
“Best be gettin’ this to the pot,” Druckner muttered, his voice a strange mix of gruff yet with a hint of softness to it, much like Ser Sandiscoot’s had been when he was teaching Kre the game of Tehynji and feeling particularly pleased with one of Kre’s rare good moves.
“What is it?” Kre asked, looking at the stone bowl in Druckner’s hands.
“Eh…” Druckner muttered, looking at the bowl himself, “Just some dried spices. Nothin’ like what Dain uses. Crushed up salt, peppercorn, onion, garlic, and a few other things. They keep longer dried, but we find they keep a stronger flavor if you crush them just before use.”
Kre nodded his understanding and let Druckner walk towards the campfire without any further questions. In any case, he had his own camp duties to attend to and the soft whicker was a clear reminder that they knew it was time for their evening pampering.
When he got to where the horses were tethered, he noted that most of the saddles and tack were already removed, saving him that part of the job at least. It made sense, since most of the crew needed their supplies and they shouldn’t have to wait on him to take care of their mounts before they had what they needed to get to work. Someone had also left the brush and a bag of some type of oat cakes, each one heavy though no bigger than his palm.
He gave one cake to each horse in turn as he brushed them down. Once they were all decently groomed, he led them in twos and threes over to the stream to drink their fill while the others munched on grass and other vegetation nearby. Talimar stopped by halfway through Kre’s chores, ostensibly to check on his own mount, but Kre noticed that he gave each of the horses the same look over that his father did when he was inspecting his soldiers’ grooming work. A simple nod was all Kre received before Talimar strode back to the main camp area to discuss things with two of the dweorvkin.