"Yes, of course."  He didn't exactly volunteer for Chelish patrol babysitting, but he's pretty sure he made a volunteering sort of face before being picked out for it.  Or maybe it was just that predictable that, unlike just about everyone at his home fort, he wouldn't mind the assignment.  (He's been too happy to mind most things, ever since he got a title that means something. He knows it's kind of disconcerting to all the people who are doing this because they have to, rather than because it's the most fulfilling thing they could possibly imagine doing with their lives.)

"We have a room for them, right?  Which one?"  He'll make sure he knows where that is, and then wait at the gate for them.  Technically his assignment is just to accompany them during further travel, but he might as well get everyone else out of having to talk to them, if they're going to look like that about the prospect.

Once the usual checking-for-demons has been handled, the gate guards admit a standard-sized patrol mounted on the shaggy local ponies, with a flurry of damp spring snow.  The cleric is fairly easy to spot, in a Qadiran-style knotted headscarf and Chelish uniform coat with the insignia carefully picked off, Nethys's divided mask on a leather cord around her neck.  She half-slides off her horse and stays hanging onto its neck for a couple moments, in the general bustle of dismounting and checking in and handing off the mail.

She looks like she needs help--  No, you don't touch a woman wearing a Qadiran headscarf--  The conflicting impulses take half a second to resolve into stepping up next to her and asking "Are you all right, Learned? Do you want to come inside?"  (His accent is very obviously Taldan.  ...Which might not make her comfortable, but he can't exactly do anything about it.)

He is not, in retrospect, sure what sort of cleric he was expecting, given that Asmodeus dropped all of them, but – he would've thought it would still be someone Chelish.  She looks so out of place here.

Do the rest of them look like they're worried about their cleric half falling off her pony, or are they too Chelish for that?  Do the rest of them look all right, for that matter?

The rest of the patrol looks- well, tired but tired like anyone would be after a long day's ride, not swaying on their feet exhausted.  They're not giving off any obvious signs of being worried per se, but if he's looking for it he can tell that one soldier is in easy catching range and the squad leader is keeping half an eye on her from where he's talking with the purser's assistant.  

The cleric takes a bit to realize she's being spoken to, but then glances up at him (she's a full head shorter, dismounted).  " 'M fine.  Where'm I channeling?"  Her Taldane is thickly accented, but not quite Qadiran-sounding- Osirian maybe?

Oh good.  "Indoors!  And after you've sat down and had something warm to eat, unless you're in a hurry.  Nobody's an emergency here."

He would like to see her, and preferably the rest of them, inside before wasting conversation on any other topics, if she's amenable to that.

She nods, and pats her horse a couple of times before handing off the reins and following him in.  "I c'n get m'self too- oh.  But of course in Mendev y' know that, I do apologize."

"My fault – yes, of course you'd rather do it quickly and feel better.  This way, then."  He shows her to a chair next to the channeling podium, and sends a soldier to ring for a channel.  (They do have their own cleric, but there's always going to be something an extra one can help with.)  "It'll only be a minute - and I assume we should wait for your men too?"  It seemed like it to him, but there could be something more complicated going on.

"Mmhmm."  She'll let herself be guided and dig a mug out of her bag to create herself a drink of water while they wait, the squad following in a couple of little clumps as they finish up in the courtyard.  " 'S no trouble t'wait if anyone's some ways out, we're none'f us injured."

People do start showing up rather quickly – some training injuries, someone burned while cooking, a few people with nothing obvious wrong with them, maybe they just have headaches – but there's enough time for the conversational basics he skipped earlier in favor of getting everyone in out of the cold. 

"In the meantime – I'm Marcus Aemine, paladin of Iomedae."  He's been told he near visibly glows when he says that, and is trying not to do so much of that in front of (at least somewhat?) Chelish people, with mixed success.  "I'm supposed to help you interface with the rest of Mendev, since we were told you wanted to travel further than this fort – is that right?"

"Pleased to make your acquaintance.  'M called Khalida."  She gives him a small smile.  " 'n yes, I would far enough south to somewhere that's overland supplies one may purchase- this may be Kenabres, I know not 'f there's smaller towns closer."

Well, she doesn't seem to find Iomedae's name objectionable, so that's good.  "Yours as well, Learned."  He smiles back, and takes a second to detangle her next sentence.  "Some, I think, but it depends on what you're shopping for.  We'll go through them and see, in any case.  Is it just you going, or some or all of the men as well?"

"We've still discussed this- they are cautious, but I think with a paladin I should be well chaperoned, yes?"  She directs this partly at the nearest of her squadmates, who rolls his eyes at her just slightly.  "For myself, I seek mainly ink and such spell supplies as that, but I've requests from several among the fort as well."

He looks a little amused at the eyerolling.  Chelish people aren't turning out that hard to read, at least with a non-Chelish one in the group to get the tone of the situation from.  "In all honesty I wasn't sure how all of you feel about paladins.  But I do intend to take my escort duties seriously, and being guaranteed Lawful can't hurt."

(She looked enough like a wizard, on top of being a Nethysian riding patrol without armor, that he's not surprised about the spell ink.)

"I know not in the general, but- we're all here for the Worldwound, yes?"  She glances around to see if anyone is still trickling in for the channel.  "This is... truly everyone?"

"Yes, we are." That gets a serious nod.

"And I think so, yes.  ...Ah, they have a cleric.  Nearly all Mendevian forts do."  And of course the Chelish ones mostly wouldn't, would they.  "So it's just whoever got injured in the last few hours, and not seriously enough for immediate healing."

"Ah, of course."  She nods and gives him another small smile, quickly counts heads for her squad, and climbs up to the podium.  She closes her eyes briefly and raises her holy symbol...

...it's the barest trickle of positive energy, any less and it wouldn't be perceptible at all, but it's definitely there and it's healing.

And back down to continue the conversation.  "I interrupt myself- I know not how other forts may feel about paladins, but we've come together all from Eleven, that's the one with the Iomedaean commander."

"Oh!  I haven't heard about that.  How did that... happen...?  --Ah, and let's go get you all something warm to eat before I bury you in questions."  He leads the way to the kitchen – it's not a mealtime right now, but they knew they were expecting guests, there should be something.

"I- should think, um-"  She glances at the squad leader as they head for the kitchen.  "Mysterious are the ways of the gods, but certainly there's a great deal of evil to fight here?  He'd been already chosen when my party arrived, I fear, I've only been in the north a few months."

And the squad leader doesn't look like he's nearly as talkative around strangers as the cleric is.  "My congratulations to him, then!  The ways of Iomedae are not usually very mysterious, I think, and of course it makes sense to empower someone committed to the fight against demons, but... you sound like he was an Asmodean before that, not a new arrival like you?"

And they can all get bowls of the leftover stew, though it's not exactly warm, and some bread to go with it.  (Marcus gently reprimands the cook about the stew, which should really be hot, for people they knew would be coming in from all day spent in the cold.  This elicits subdued muttering about Asmodeans and what a waste it is to try to be pleasant to them like they're normal people.  "The Learned is obviously not an Asmodean, and I'd be surprised if most of the men were, at this point."  "You know what I mean. That doesn't count."  "It's never going to start counting if we don't treat them like it could.")

"Mmhmm."  She hesitates, but if there's something else she was going to say she's distracted by their arrival at the food. 

Bread!!!  Monch monch cronch.  (Wow her standards have gotten low.)  She pretends not to notice Aemine's conversation with the cook- the men are obviously not going to complain about something as petty as lukewarm stew, and she looks like enough of a baby already, she's not about to be the only one.  She does discreetly warm hers up a bit with Prestidigitation once they're settled at a table, though.

...right, making conversation.  "And yourself, how did you come here?"  That's probably not rude for a paladin, they're probably all here on purpose?

"I grew up in Taldor, realized everyone I knew was wasting their lives on meaningless nobility status games, and decided to go somewhere I can do something that matters.  It turned out Iomedae approves."  Grin.

"What about you?  You're not at all who I was expecting as a Chelish cleric.  Although I suppose this year all Chelish clerics have to be surprising in some way, really."

"Oh, I'm not myself Chelish- I suppose my poor Taldane makes that clear."  She ducks her head briefly and gives him a small smile.  "I'm from Sothis originally, a few months ago my party were- adventuring in the tombs when a trap went wrong.  I know not what it intended, but it landed us three days north of the border."  It's probably unbefitting for a priestess of the god of knowledge but she's finding herself really reluctant to tell the charming incredibly earnest paladin why they were in the tombs.

"Your Taldane is charming, you just sound like you learned by reading old books."

"Three days north of the border, oof!  What a place to end up.  Of course it could've been worse – three days on the other side of it, for example – but still.  Did you even know where you were?"

She's pretty sure she also has a terrible accent, from the range of snickers if nothing else, but if he's too polite to bring it up she's not going to demur and make him double down. 

"Oh, not at all!  We had Endures up for the desert or we should've been dead, and I'd hidden my spellbook that morning so I could call it to me, or we should have died on the second day, and we had a camel at first but not the Endure to spare for it, but we just walked south, in case of we found the Worldwound or Tian Xia before freezing, but we knew not if we hoped for this rightly."

Oh she absolutely has an accent, but he can understand her fine when she's not muttering in exhaustion, so it's just interesting-sounding.  (It's great how many ways there are for people to not sound Taldan.  Of course the prevailing opinion in Taldor was that any other accent was a sign of inherent inferiority, which is what pushed him pretty far in the opposite direction.)

"Well. I'm glad it all worked out all right, when it so easily could've not.  And – you decided to stay, since you were here already?"

"Well, I hadn't yet been chosen, that was a few days later, but once then it was obvious- in truth, I suspect Nethys may've also affected the trap, so unlikely was it to send us where I should be needed instead of merely killing us?  But of course I'd no idea at the time."

"Oh!  That's very likely, if He only chose you afterward.  Though I can see what you mean about the mysterious ways, now." 

And he really shouldn't be talking only to her, even if she's by far the most talkative one of the bunch, so the next question can be for the rest of the squad.  "And so you ended up with two Good clerics?  ...Or positive-channeling ones, in any case."  Nethys isn't Good, and while Iomedae's people generally are, the ex-Asmodean might be an exception if anyone would.  "I'm glad the gods have been so helpful to you.  How is the fort doing, with everything that's been going on?"

They're perhaps not expecting this- there's half a moment of silent glances negotiating before the one who's apparently been nominated speaks up.  "We're holding.  Artigas's a good commander."  After another beat, he adds, "Sensible."

"I'd say it's best of the forts,"  Khalida volunteers, possibly to fill the silence, "and not merely that it saved my life."

Oh they're so cautious.  It makes sense that they would be, but he wonders what they think about him and the way he isn't at all.

"Yes – I expect I would've heard of it if all the Chelish forts were doing as well as it sounds like you are."

"Which makes me wonder why that is.  And I'm generally so curious about your commander's story, but I... don't get the impression you're much for... telling people things."  He doesn't sound like he's judging them for it, he sounds like he's trying to figure out how to act with them, and would maybe like some help with it.  

"Well, it's not a secret..."  Khalida glances at the impromptu spokesman.

"He said paladins don't lie, so he ain't," he confirms.

She nods, and continues, "But I don't know much further- he, um, had been dropped, as, um, all of them were, and then one day She chose him anew, same circle and all.  But what it was that drew Her attention, he hasn't said, it wasn't, ah, nearly so dramatic as mine."  It's transparent bait for a subject change, but hopefully it's clear it's not a demand for one?

He's not sure what it even is that he ain't lying about!  He doesn't think he's said anything particularly loadbearing?...  Besides being glad of various things going well, which he supposes would tell them he's not secretly ill-disposed to them in some way – even if it doesn't feel to him like something where it's important to know it's definitely true, because why in the world wouldn't it be.

"Wait, you mean he was an Asmodean cleric, before??  That's... ... that's incredibly strange.  Not impossible, even without an alignment change, but... he must be a fascinating sort of person, to match Them both."  He should... well, pray about it, before he sleeps, but presumably Iomedae already knows what's happening and doesn't need any of it to be different, so after that he should write to someone in the Church who'd know more about it – probably Lastwall – and see if they're any less surprised than he is.  Not that he's sure Lastwall will tell him anything, since he's not theirs and they probably don't even know for sure who he is.  (Mendev is an Iomedean country, but it's really not well organized or well supplied at it.)

He'll see if any of them will add something, but since the men let Khalida tell the story despite her not having been there for it, he doesn't really expect them to suddenly start talking. 

"Um.  Yes."  Fuuuuuck they've been here like ten minutes and she's already shocked the nice foreign paladin.  

"Cast Light with his table knife,"  one of the men offers eventually, after it's clear more words aren't happening.  "In the mess, so's no one could doubt it."

Ah, so it is possible to get them to talk!  For the price of making everyone look deeply awkward, so he probably shouldn't keep doing it.

"That must've really been something."  He shakes his head in amazement, trying to imagine what the situation must've felt like.

"So, is he in contact with anyone?  Lastwall, I'd guess?  Well, for all I know he's been talking with the Mendevian Church and it's just that nobody's had reason to tell me anything about it." 

"Mmhmm."  Okay, this is basically small talk again?  Assemble the sentence first.  "I know not who specifically, but he's corresponding with Lastwall, he got the Acts and their fort handbook.  And the insurance adjuster also."

"Oh good."  Well, part small talk and part checking who he can write to if he wants to verify this story and find out how they verified it, because surely it could be some more complicated thing going on, even if he doesn't really expect it to be.

"Well, do you want to tell me your dramatic story?  ...Or you could just finish your food and go rest and make travel plans," apologetic smile.  "I'm sorry, I don't mean to interrogate you, it just sounds like there's been so many interesting things going on over there."

"Oh, I'd not taunt you and then not share, though it's scarcely so dignified.  I, um-" no, strange paladins probably don't want the technical detail- fuck, she's stuck again on what to say instead- hopeful glance at Cambra?

"She exploded,"  he fills in helpfully, and that startles a giggle out of her even as it unsticks her words.  She nods embarrassed confirmation.

"I shan't do it again!  Never fear,"  she waves a hand in front of her as though to physically waft away the prospect of exploding someone else's fort.  "Not before I've my own laboratory, at any rate, I just- I truly did not know one might explode a spell hanging it and not just casting it."

He looks rather alarmed for a moment, but-- clearly she's all right, and it is funny.  He's laughing at her charmingly archaic reassurances a second later.  "Maybe I should back out of this shared travel arrangement!  I didn't know there was an explosion risk!"

"There isn't!  Really!", she protests, but- yes, he's clearly teasing, she offers a sidelong grin in return.  "Did no one warn you I was chosen of Nethys?  And after we came all this way..."

"No one did!  But if all these men were brave enough to risk being near you all day," a more restrained grin for the squad, "then maybe I can gather the courage for it.  They don't look very exploded."

"I may swear to you, I've exploded none but myself! ...and giant scorpions, or uh, medium larger than usual scorpions.  And some crockery when I was small."

"Who of us hasn't?" he replies solemnly. 

"So the average-sized scorpions are safe?"

"Well, average sized scorpions one can, um, I don't know the Taldane-"  she mimes squashing something, "oh, kill with a boot, one needn't use a spell.  And we're big enough they don't look to us as food, they shouldn't attack except startled or, um, cursed, or in one's clothes."

"Stomp," he supplies.  "Well, best of luck to them out here, in any case," grin, gesture out at the surrounding cold landscape through the fort's conspicuous lack of windows. 

"So... you made the exciting discovery that spells can explode when you hang them and not just cast them, and for this new knowledge Nethys gave you a cleric level?"

"Essentially?  I'd hit my head and took myself out, so I know not when precisely He chose me, I was only certain the next dawn."  She makes a bit of a face at this.  "I suppose it possible He approved of cleaning the dishes yet injured as much as experimenting, but one doesn't hear Him called the god of magic and stubbornness."

"Very true.  Well, congratulations to you as well, on the achievement and on making such good use of it."

Small smile.  "I thank you."  Okay no, it's operationally relevant, she has to tell him, what if there's a demon attack and he's expecting her to have a Cure in reserve... okay actually she's not sure what tactical difference one Cure Light would make compared to her channels, but still.  God of Knowledge.  Deep breath.

"I also, um.  It's not a full circle.  I- can't yet hang properly divine spells."

"Huh, strange! I didn't know gods did that.  I suppose Nethys might do all sorts of things just to see how they go."

"Hmm, do you think you're just not quite at a full circle, or might you be some unusual thing that's a bit different from a cleric, the way there are people who are something a bit different from a wizard and have their circles lined up differently?"

"I'm not certain- it's been some months since I got my extra second, so I might have expected my next wizard circle soon?  But Artigas hadn't heard of such a thing either.  I can channel fine, though, and create water and such."

"Which is really the important thing, here."

"...Wait, did you say you're nearly third circle??  That's-- either wildly impressive, not to mention a little concerning," he glances at her squad, wondering if they're also worried about just how much of a tendency to get into dangerous situations their rather young cleric apparently has, "or you're older than you look?"

"'M nineteen," she mutters defensively, and then immediately spoils the effect by reluctantly clarifying, "come end of Sarenith.  I just got started early."

"Wildly impressive it is, then!"  Grin.  "I'm twenty two and I'm only barely a paladin. Well, and a swordsman before that, but still."  Not much of a meaningful comparison in any case, wizards needing more than just risk and practice to be good at what they're doing, but since they're exchanging tactically relevant information. 

Okay, she can't help smiling back at that.  "Well enough, and I'm only barely a cleric, so we're quits there."

Oh good, he did manage to cheer her up about her odd divine spell situation.  "Yes.  So, are we leaving tomorrow morning?  Have you decided who's going where yet, or should I leave you alone so you can talk about it instead of just giving each other meaningful looks?"  If the Chelish men mind his friendly poking fun at them about how quiet they're being, he'll stop, but for now he's hoping he can get them to reply eventually.  Although with how expressionless they are, is he sure he'd know if they minded?  He should ask Khalida when he gets her alone, maybe.

There are indeed some meaningful looks at that!  Just a couple, though.  "Yeah, we'll talk," the squad leader replies.  "Tomorrow's good, I'll get you the final count before then."  That's enough of a signal for the men to start getting up and stacking empty bowls together (completely empty, scraped clean and mopped up with the bread ends), and the leader adds more quietly to him alone,  "The Chosen needs some extra blankets.  You'll see it happens?"

He got actual words!  More than the strictly necessary number of them, even!  He feels like their communication situation is going to work out all right.

...

"The--???  Uh-- That's not--" 

Come on, you can string some diplomatic or at least bloody informative words together... 

"It's really... easy for people to misinterpret... when you call her that."

At least he managed to keep his voice as quiet as the other man's rather than drawing the whole room's attention.

Blink.  Unreadable slight frown.

"Mm.  Like how the commander's a Select now.  Yeah?"

"... Yes, that."  It's a relief they were at least getting that one right.

"Every church has its own title – sometimes multiple ones."  Which, now that he thinks about it, may not have been obvious in a country that outlawed all churches but one.  "For Nethys it's usually Learned, or you can ask her if she prefers something else. But what you call a cleric implies who their god is."  And you don't want to imply Asmodeus, he doesn't add, because these people are not stupid. 

"Hm."  Slight nod.  "I'll ask."

Nod.  "And I'll get extra blankets for her."

He'll give them... make it half an hour... to talk, before showing up with three more blankets outside the barracks room their patrol was assigned.  (He could've sent someone, but he can just about imagine the variety of possible comments.)  She probably doesn't need them until a more reasonable bedtime, but she did look so exhausted when they arrived.  And tiredness makes you colder, and she barely weighs anything to start with.

There's a card game starting up in the middle of the room and two men spectating while they mend tack; the cleric is perched on a corner bunk, absorbed enough in her reading that she doesn't glance up when the door opens and the squad leader steps out to accept the blankets. 

"I'm sending Ferrer and Cambra with you as far as the last fort before Kenabres proper."  He points out the man currently dealing and the one who'd gotten volunteered as spokesman.  "Rest of the squad'll stay based out of Three till Learned Khalida comes back through."

A nod at the plan, and another at the Learned's updated title.

"That sounds good."  Kenabres is not... a bad place, really... but they're probably right that it wouldn't suit them.

What things should he make sure of in case different places have different ideas of the obvious way for this to work... "They're officially under my command, I take it?"

"Hers.  But she'll listen t'you."

"Has she commanded in combat?"  He didn't get that impression from her, but he could be wrong.  "Not that I expect that to happen to just the four of us, but we should still know."

Snort.  "No."

"You are going with the patrols."  It's almost a question. 

"Of course we are, but – she said she might want to go by some of the smaller towns, to see what there is to buy before Kenabres.  Or something else might happen.  Surely you have command chains of more than one link, in Cheliax.  So – the patrol commander's first, yes, when we're with one, and secondly mine in combat and hers otherwise."  It's not that he expects their well-informed opinions to diverge, although that's not impossible either, it's that he expects her to not know what she's doing and the men to be hindered by trying to decide who to listen to.  "Will that do?"

"Yeah,  that'll do."  A level gaze, not quite challenging, not quite speculative.  "Commander's expecting her back in one piece."

A steady nod.  "I will do my best, but if I'm not in charge then I cannot bring her back if she decides to go elsewhere, and don't want to spend the rest of the year following her if she decides to see all of Mendev first.  Which I do not expect her to do, but – if I give you my word I will keep it, so I want us to be very clear on how far it goes."

"Not asking you to drag her back in chains, she could've left anytime these two months.  Just-"  but at this point Khalida has finally noticed the conversation at the door and is heading over to join them, and whatever he was going to say, he amends it to, "Be careful."

A slight apologetic smile and a serious nod.  "I will."

"Learned."  A nod for her as well.  He's not sure what of their conversation she heard and if she has comments on it.

Return nod;  if she's got opinions, she's keeping them to herself for now.  "I thank you for bringing the blankets.  Do you plan for tomorrow?"

"Yes.  The patrol going out in the morning is happy to leave later than they usually would, to give you time for prayer and breakfast, and we can keep going between forts that way until you want to veer off to a town, if all that sounds reasonable to you?"

"Ah."  Slight wince.  "I, um.  I need also a second hour.  For the wizard spells."  Stop that brain it's nothing to be embarrassed about it is literally how magic works.  "If there's a later patrol it makes sense to go with-"  that makes sense, which sounds stupid, and of course she then gets stuck on something non-stupid to say instead- different sentence.  "But else is good.  Yes."  Fuuuuck she sounds like such an idiot.

Well, now they can be embarrassed together, because he should've really remembered that!  (It's just so much time spent on spells...)  "My apologies, yes, of course.  I think people will be happy to wait a while longer to travel with a cleric."

Nodnod.  Deep breath.

"I've four firsts.  So we needn't ask Endures of the forts.  Then my seconds for emergencies, unless we've need of a Bull's at some time."

"Oh!  We usually just... are cold all day.  I won't say no to magic, but you needn't, if you'd rather keep it for something else."

"Hm..."  She chews on a fingernail, gazing abstracted at nothing.  "I've scarcely used my Sleeps but I mislike going without any, and it sounds that this patrol hasn't its own wizard?  If I keep Sleep in first, that leaves a second free for an extra Glitterdust..."  She glances uncertainly at the squad leader.

     "Make better time if you're not freezing your- toes off, Learned."  A glance at the paladin as he amends whatever body part he was originally going to mention. "But better t'take another day than not make it there."

"...I suppose if the Mendevian forts needn't pack the channels, we could put the horses in them?"

It takes him a moment to parse the last sentence, and he's still not sure how it's related.  "Yes, we do that sometimes.  Keeps them fit."

"And he's right – you should probably have an Endure, Learned, you're Osirian and weigh nothing besides.  But for the rest of us, or me at least, I'd sleep better with an extra Glitterdust.  The whole patrol won't have Endures, so it won't be much difference on time."

"If you're sure...?  We had planned to swap between patrols and stay on the road as long as possible.  And certainly you'll be in the channels too, but it's still..."  She trails off.  Maybe he's from around here, she thought Taldor was on the Inner Sea but she could be wrong and anyway that doesn't mean anything about how far north it goes.  Maybe he's being stoic but you can't argue a man out of that.  And they're right that they should be more worried about demons than frostbite anyway.  "I call 'eyes' for Glitterdust, you'll remember or wish to practice?"  It's the Osiriani word, less because they expect the demons to understand Taldane than because she'd been used to it with Tariq and Omar and didn't want to risk losing her Taldane in combat.

"Yes, I'll be fine, and I'll tell you if I'm not," cheerful nod.  (He is perhaps being a little stoic, but you cannot argue him out of that without being his commanding officer, and he's been here long enough to make good progress on genuinely not minding.)

"I might as well practice just in case, but I figure it'll be straightforward enough – you call an unfamiliar word in combat, there's not a lot of things it could be, right."

"I'll attempt to not swear, then."  Small smile.  "My other best combat spell is Flaming Sphere, not so good against demons but I keep it for such as bears.  I can control it but it does frighten also the horses."

"Oh, so you'd swear in front of a paladin?"  An amused grin at both of them.  (Toes, indeed.)

And she opens her mouth to respond and about three and a half trains of thought collide- did he think I wouldn't and is he reading this as banter or flirting (but he's a paladin) and oh fuck there's more politics here I got too comfortable- and absolutely no words make it out into the air.  After a beat she closes her mouth and covers it with a hand.  Which does absolutely nothing to make her look less like a started rabbit.

The squad leader interjects, almost smoothly, "You should check the maps for the next leg- where does this fort keep them?"

Oh no, what did he do...  Hopefully it's just the sudden foreign language problem rather than him insulting her horribly somehow?

"Ah-- I'm sorry.  Yes, the commander has them, I-- should go ask."  By himself, because proposing showing the fort maps to Chelish soldiers would be not only badly taken but genuinely a bad idea, and probably this man knows that.  (And not that Marcus hasn't looked at the route before leaving for this trip, but this fort's maps are probably different and may have more useful local detail. Assuming the commander will let him see any of them, which is really not a guarantee, in Mendev.)

He will go do that.

Breakfast the next morning passes more or less without incident; the Chelish squad clusters together, making final decisions on who's taking which horses, and the cleric wanders in yawning between her divine and arcane spells, to grab some bread and wander out again.

Marcus clusters with them and watches her with only a polite greeting.  Watches them, too, to get a better feeling for how they interact with each other, rather than trying to join in immediately.

Once she's gone again, he asks the squad leader, a little quietly: "So, uh, did I insult her somehow, yesterday? Or something?"

"Doubt it.  She's got... trouble with Taldane.  Sometimes."  

One of the soldiers further down the table opens his mouth as though to add something and gets an actual full-bore glare from the man across from him. 

Wow, he's so curious about the glaring and there's no possible way to ask.

"Yeah, I noticed. Still better than my Osirian."  

"Anything else I should know?  Besides keep her from freezing and bring her back in one piece."

(Glared-at wisely puts some bread in his mouth instead.)

"She's fine in combat, doesn't happen with incantations- 'f she lost her head she'd never've made it this far."

"Forgets to eat sometimes, y'know how city wizards can get," another man volunteers slowly.  "Not much on the road, but- might remind her once y'get there."

Nods all around.  "Yeah, I can see that. She's got to be more wizard-ish than most of them, to have gotten this far her age, so she has more of their troubles too. Remind her to eat and to look at things that aren't books. Put in a word against exploding, maybe, if it's starting to look likely," bit of a smile.

One man snorts quietly at that, but Cambra shakes his head.  "Nah.  She knows."

Some whispers at the other end of the table resolve to:  "She ain't Abadaran so much.  Grew up there 'n can talk the lingo, is all."  

"Huh, all right.  And... I don't know much about Osirion... does she have that Qadiran thing where you can't touch her?"

This prompts a storm of meaningful looks, and more whispers, some of them heated, until the squad leader clears his throat and the table instantly falls silent.  

"Make like she's your baron's daughter."  One of the older men says finally, and punctuates this with a glower.

A confused look.  "Well, yes, but--" that doesn't answer his question at all... Oh. Oh no.

"That's not what I meant!!"  He looks a little horrified by what he apparently just said – and he's blushing on top of that, damn it.

"I meant, there's a custom in Qadira... I heard there is, anyway..." probably half the things they say about Qadira in Taldor are lies, but he doesn't know which half... "that men can't touch unrelated women, literally, at all, not a touch on the shoulder to keep her from tripping and falling in the street or anything.  That's all I was asking about!"  Are they even going to believe him.  He feels like such an idiot right now.  Half the mess hall is smirking at him.

There is an entire extremely Chelish meaningful looks debate going on.  Some eyebrows are even getting involved. 

The rest of the mess hall finds the flailing baby paladin incredibly funny and is not inclined to be nearly as quiet about it.

"Suuuuure you were!"

       "Boy's some kind of Taldor nobility anyway, for all you know he's been fucking barons' daughters left and right!"

He's just going to sit here and pretend he doesn't exist until someone says something he can reasonably respond to, how about that.

The eyebrows are getting voluble, but a good fraction of the glaring is now directed at the other tables instead of him.  

"We know you're a paladin, boy, y'can ease up," the older man growls at last.  "Y'ain't sinning against Nethys if y'stop her slipping on the ice.  Just- mind she's a priestess."  With a particular glare at the man with the color commentary on barons' daughters. 

Oh it's so strange to have the Chelish soldiers as allies against people who he should in some sense be closer to.  (Not that he knows this fort very well, or has gotten a particularly friendly impression of it.)  But he does like them.  They're strange and closed-down and protective and he thinks they're good people, in a sense that matters, if not the only one.

He gives them a relieved and much less flailing smile, and ignores the Mendevians for the moment.  "Yes, of course.  I meant her no disrespect and am not about to start."

He gets a short nod from the older man, and the squad leader stands.  "All right, you lot, time we saw to the horses."  He does not actually heave a tired sigh.

It's a clear morning, colder than yesterday with a bit of easterly wind, but not too bad. The track south is wide enough for two horses abreast comfortably, so with the Mendevian patrol in their usual order and the two Chelish soldiers silently claiming rearguard, that puts Marcus next to the cleric until their next reshuffle. She offers him a small smile once the horses are settled into their traveling pace. "Good morning, again."  She sits her horse (a placid bay gelding) a little awkwardly, not a complete novice but clearly more used to a different gait, and not born in the saddle to that either.