But once the rains start again, that story will change quickly.” He spoke as if it were my fault.

Intending it more as a pleasantry than as a true query, I asked where their command was, and if their regiment had any openings for recruits. The old veteran looked me up and down and gave a contemptuous snort. “No.

We’ve plenty of our own youngsters to sign up when we need more men.

No need for outsiders.” I took that rebuff in stride.

“Well. Any chance I can replenish my supplies here? Any food you could sell me?”

The courier had been listening in on our exchange. He interrupted mockingly with “You need to buy food? It doesn’t look to me as if you’ve been going without! Or are you fattening up before you hibernate for the winter?”

It was a feeble jest, but the other man laughed at it. I forced myself to smile. “I’ve a way to travel. I’d buy whatever you could spare—flour, grain, travel bread, bacon?” I could smell stew simmering and longed to beg for a hot bowl. As always, any aroma of food roused a ravenous hunger in me.

“We’ve nothing to spare,” the sergeant decided abruptly. “This is a way station for couriers, not an inn. The supply wagons haven’t been as regular as they should. I’m saving what I’ve got for my own men here.”

“Of course. But could I at least buy some oats for my horse?” Clove was not the forager that Sirlofty was. The constant travel and sparse grazing were starting to show on him. Because my father was responsible for the king’s courier station closest to Widevale, I knew they were required to keep well stocked with feed for the horses.

The men exchanged glances with each other. Then the sergeant spoke again. “No. I’ve told you. We’ve nothing to spare. Best you be on your way.”

“I see,” I said, though I didn’t. Plainly he was lying. I could not discern why, but I suspected it was simply because I was fat. I think he perceived me as self-indulgent and felt justified, even righteous, in denying me food.

I looked at the circle of faces around me. Every one of them evinced some level of satisfaction in my disappointment. They put me in mind of how Trist had rejected Gord from the first moment he’d met the fat cadet.

Gord hadn’t had to say or do anything. Just being fat had made Trist despise him and seek to thwart him at every opportunity.

I needed supplies. My horse needed something more than grass. My experience with Jirry flashed back through my mind. On some level, I’d already accepted that the magic that had so cursed me could also work in my favor. I tried it. “I really need fresh supplies to continue on my journey.” It was my first effort to bend the magic to my will. I pushed insistence through my words and deliberately sought to bend their wills to mine.