Children of Rima
Download 3.95 Mb. Pdf ko'rish
|
children-of-rima-book-1-obooko
|
What on Pleada? It wasn’t the cleric's right to answer, and it was
beginning to annoy him. “I’m sorry, but this is a contract I’m doing with Matias.” Lucan ignored the surprised look on his face and wobbled back to his feet. He met Matias face to face, as he wanted to show he meant well. “You’re a businessman, but you’re also going through the trouble, so allow me to compensate you. I have more than enough funds in Vinol to cover the distance.” Matias rubbed his beard, his thick eyebrows narrowed. He glanced at Cleric Aaron for a moment before looking back at him. “I accept—only I don’t send my kin out of Melodia without protection.” “Then I will cover the bill and hire your usual guards.” Cleric Aaron announced. “But that doesn’t settle the bill of you saving me, alright Lucan?” “Thanks,” he answered, though he never said he intended to return to Melodia to receive his prize. Lucan followed Matias to where they were stacking the chairs. With no one else to eavesdrop, he spoke his mind. “You didn’t have to do that.” Matias didn’t look happy, but he didn’t explain either. “Just keep an eye on my children.” “Children? Will Terra be joining us?” Finally, some good news about this last-minute arrangement. Matias smiled and shook his head. “No, not that one.” The aroma of tomato soup and the pain over his left knuckles returned. “Great.” At the steps of the temple, Lucan gave his Melodian sword a few steady swings. From the leather hilt and the shape of the pommel, it didn’t differ from their guards. As long as it was sharp and balanced, he couldn’t complain. Aaron and his need to pay his debt left him ten silver coins to spend on the road. The bag he was given had the basic essentials, flour, nuts, a knife, a wooden bowl with a spoon to eat from, a mug to drink, and a blanket. Maiden Camilla added some of the fresh spinach tarts she had made for him. On the second window was the record keeper, Vance, arms crossed, peering at him but not saying goodbye. “I have a feeling you’ll be back,” Cleric Aaron said. “And for that, I’ll be building you a home in town. Nothing big, but enough for you to start a new life here.” “You don’t have to do that.” Take the rejection already. “If you don’t return, then the building will take in people like you, good meaning, who are in need of help.” He placed his right hand over his left shoulder and nodded. “Be with the light.” He smiled as his daughter went up the steps, entering the temple that needed his attention. Maiden Camilla held her hand over his head and gently moved them down his cheek. “May Skiar guide your passage with light, and may Rima cast your nightmares astray.” Lucan looked up. She moved her hand away and smiled, blinking at him. “What is it?” “Nothing…” she said, rubbing her hands. “You give off this energy about you when I touch you.” “You decide to flirt with me now that I’m leaving?” Maiden Camilla gasped and climbed back up the steps. Lucan chuckled and left the temple. It was the perfect response to repel suspicions, especially to a Maiden. He couldn’t risk the chance of her sensing something else. Lucan headed up the Avenue. Wein lived near the upper side, on one of their narrow little roads. “Hold it right there.” A voice halted his steps. The same old woman who owned that bakery had left her shop. Lucan gulped and went to meet her. “You didn’t think you were going to get away from me, did you?” “Sorry,” Lucan said. “I thought you were anxious about my stay.” The old woman chuckled. “Not in the slightest. Heard you were leaving, so I brought you some cream pastries for the road.” The box was neatly wrapped. He didn’t have to open it to smell the sweetness. “Excuse me, uh…” “Olivia’s my name, and before you tell me your name, I know it’s Lucan. Word spreads like wildfire here.” “Well, Olivia, how much will it be?” “Free.” “Free?” “That will teach you a lesson about running off when a young lady is speaking to you.” Lucan smiled. He carried the box up the street like they were glass. He couldn’t wait to try them. Wein’s house was a tiny cottage that probably had one room. Gourd, Pete, and Rüfus were in their traveling gear, swords neatly tied around their belt. They were talking to one another until they saw him. Before he got close, a band of children almost trampled him, tilting his box of pastries. It was those little minions again! The children, too inattentive to apologize, giggled and hid behind the wagon. “Oi, don’t be climbing the back,” Pete called. “You know Wein doesn’t like that.” Stomping around Wein’s home was a woman. A sack for potatoes was over her face. Marked in black ink was two dots that appeared to be the eyes, furrowed eyebrows, and a frown with sharp triangles for teeth. By that black corset with the gold branch designs, it had to be Elene. “I have a hankering for little children,” she groaned, stomping like she was some bear. It was clear from the burlap she could see but pretended otherwise. “Come, my little children, I have sweet yams and delicious caramel salted chocolate.” “Never!” one shouted from the tree. How long has that kid been there? “I’d like some chocolate.” The chubby-faced one said. He was one of the little demons who tried to send him back to the river. “Hush, Theo, she doesn’t have sweets!” Corie warned from behind the wheel. “Then you leave me no choice,” Elene snickered. “I’m going to hunt every single one of you and gobble you up like little candies.” The theatrical act had absorbed Lucan’s attention. He only just noticed the woman marching behind Elene, who yanked the potato sack from her face. She jumped, realizing what had happened. “Theo!” the woman exclaimed. “What did I say about hanging around here?” “But…” “No buts, come home this instant.” She looked at the hiding faces. “All of you, go home now!” More children went out of hiding, four-year-olds, five years to eight, left with sulking heads. Elene steadied her turban but said nothing. She smudged the sweat on her forehead and started dusting her maroon-colored dress. The woman, who could be Theo’s mother, dropped the potato sack on the ground and left with her son. Corie picked up the sack and gave it to Elene. She smiled at her and thanked her. Wein came out in brown slacks and high boots. Contrasting his buttoned shirt was a moss green double-breasted wool vest with five gold-colored buttons on both sides of the angled stitching of two birds. “You never told me you were a member of the Red Guild,” Lucan told him. Wein fashioned the same merchant hat as Frederick, with the red-tailed feather in the back. “Been a member for two years now,” Wein answered. “I met a Gypsian who was one of the leaders, and he signed me up.” “He couldn’t’ve just signed you up,” Lucan said. “You’d have to possess top-quality goods.” “Have you seen our wool?” Wein asked. “Aside from that, my mother and sisters are talented with their sewing.” It looks like they have some protection on Vine Road. Members of the Red Guild watched over one another. Though they were peaceful traders, they took the law into their own hands against any threat, be it thieves or bandits. “Take care of ma and pa,” Gourd told his little sister. “And don’t throw a fit when you can’t get your way.” Corie crossed her arms, tears whelping in her eyes. “You’ll bring me a dolly, won’t you?” “Yes.” “Bring two, remember? The first dolly is going to need a friend.” “Yes, a million times, yes.” Gourd squeezed her cheek. She smacked his arm but dove in for a hug. “Everything good?” Wein said, climbing to the front seat. His sister was petting the horses, staring deeply into their eyes. She nodded at him, climbed the front seat, and dug into the wares, searching for something. “There’s room for you to rest in the back,” Wein said. “Thanks, but I’ll walk for now.” He needed to get his strength back. Fast. Matias’s horses, Fior and Ivory, pulled the wagon out of Melodia and took the open road through the Iven Forest. “This is for you.” Without looking at him, Elene handed him an item covered in a thin decorative sheet. “It’s from Terra.” Lucan opened it and unraveled a fringe scarf. “Lucky,” Pete said with a lopsided grin. “Yeah.” It was kind of her but a rather useless item. It was summer, and though they had Lotter’s Mountain to go through, he had no need for it on the road. Once Iven Forest and their mountains faced their backs, Wein would glance at his sister and smile. At that moment, he understood what he meant during their walk. Elene was the special someone he wanted to take out of their town. The Grazen Fields was covered in blotches of black soot from where Averyan’s soldiers had camped out. Cleric Aaron warned there were some encampments out there, but that may no longer be true. The only folks passing by were regular travelers. Seeing them, Pete asked if Melodia would see more visitors once those Southerners left to which Wein replied it was too late to make up for the loss of income for his family. “You’re not alone there,” Gourd said. “That’s why I didn’t hesitate to come along. This is the longest route that will pay for my family’s expenses until this holy war blows over.” After walking for a mile, Lucan needed a break and rode the wagon. Once Gourd gave his mouth a break about how he thought the world would end by fall, he had to intervene. “Don’t be so sure the war is ending just because there’s a few Averyans.” “Mind telling us what you mean?” Pete said. The answer had a lot to do with the history of both kingdoms. King Pann and King Galrug were distant relatives that, over the years, adopted different religions. Vinol was a kingdom of many deities, acceptive of all religions as long as they didn’t rise above their main one, the Goddess of Wealth and Harvest. Avery worshiped no god or goddess but a name, Beron, and Beron seeks to eradicate any belief system until there is nothing but Beron. But with the Northerners’ deities crossing Blood River, it was a call to war to King Galrug. Even a child could see under the guise of this so-called ‘holy war’ being just a turf war, like gangs on the street, except they’re both willing to send countless generations to their deaths. “That’s terrible,” Rüfus said, lips barely able to hold a smile. “For a Northern, you sure know what’s going on in the Southern.” “Well, I lived a good few numbers of my life there, so you pick up the events since most of the war took place there.” “What made you decide to work for Vinol over Avery?” Wein asked, carrying that same unsure look as Rüfus. “Hunger, but also that if any of them were to win, it would be the kingdom that would accept Rimans.” Under the cloak of the darkness, the stars scattered over the sky. Grasshoppers called from the tall grass, calling for their mates. Wein had become hesitant about resting because of the few lone soldiers they ran into. If it wasn’t for their guards, they probably would have tried their luck. Elene changed his mind, saying the horses always rested before making the way to Lyrin Town. Lucan didn’t doubt his indecision. He had seen what unsupervised soldiers could do, and with a woman in their company, they could resort to just about anything if their carnal hunger was great. While he started the fire, Wein started hammering down three iron rods over the dry wood. His blanket was already laid down, and his bag was going to serve as a pillow. Rüfus and Pete set up three tents. Gourd helped Elene remove the harness from Fior and Ivory so they could freely move but not wander from the wagon. No one asked who was in charge of doing what. They knew their roles. “You can strike a light,” said Wein, giving him the flint and steel. He filled the iron pot with water from the barrel he kept in the back. He had to stop the nose drip when Rüfus went to talk to Elene. He noticed since they left Melodia, Rüfus enjoyed chatting with the Little Heathen. The exchange was relaxed and informal, somehow that still made Wein look at them, secretly side-eyeing them when they thought he wasn’t looking. Elene minded the fire, stirring the soup from her iron pot with a long-handled laddle. The citrusy fragrance could easily attract hungry travelers. Wein sliced the boiled eggs over his lap while Pete recalled their first encounter with Averyan soldiers. One by one, Elene served the men a bowl of hot soup, who took it and thanked her. When it came to him, she didn’t hand it over but set it on the ground like he was some dog. Peering at the content, he frowned. Tomato star soup. The very same thing she splashed on his face. No wonder that fragrance was familiar. He didn’t try it at the Lovelett’s wedding, and he would not try it now. “What’s wrong? Don’t like it?” Rüfus said with a chuckle. “Oh, that’s right,” Gourd said. “You like to eat it while it’s coming at you in mid-air.” “Very funny.” He glanced at Elene and caught her smile. Rather than give those boneheads the pleasure, Lucan grabbed the spinach tart from his bag. He unwrapped it and gave it a hard chomp. “Got us, dessert.” Pete took a bottle of wine from his bag. Everyone grabbed their mug and raised it for him to pour. Elene’s mug was shaped like a buck’s head, with the antlers pulled back to make the handles. She smiled when Rüfus told Pete he was greedy and poured a bit more on her mug. “Just don’t want her to get another shave,” he hinted. The men roared in laughter. Elene stuck her tongue out and drank her wine. “You guys always this lively?” Lucan asked, taking a sip of his own. “Were you all friends before, or is this something you lot built?” “We were friends but certainly closer after Matias hired us after our what, first trip?” Pete asked Wein. “Yeah, don’t recall liking you lot much in town.” Gourd snorted. “Hey, you all like me—it’s Rüfus we had trouble getting used to.” “You’re just a little stick, kid.” Rüfus gave Gourd a hard pat on the back. “I’m the bigger and more muscular one of the bunch. That’s why we’ve been safe.” Gourd pointed at his belly. “You call that round pot for a gut muscle?” The group laughed. One after another, the men started grabbing seconds of Elene’s soup while his bowl got cold. The star-shaped wheat hung on Rüfus’s large bottom lip. It couldn’t be that good, could it? Elene left the campfire and went to the wagon. She pulled two carrots and went to give them to her horses. Seeing her from a distance, Lucan jumped on the opportunity. He picked up the bowl and gave the soup a mouthful. The star- shaped wheat was soft, and the broth felt like silk running down his throat. He scooped another bite, then a third. Before he knew it, he was slurping the remaining and finished it. Breathless, he left it back on the ground and downed his wine. By the time Elene returned, the bowl was empty, but she only saw him with the mug in hand. She carried a box and opened it. Without asking, she started passing the content around. “Might go bad in the afternoon,” she explained. “So, eat as much as you want.” “Don’t have to ask me twice.” Rüfus took two fluffy wobbly blocks. She stopped in front of him and offered the last piece. “What is it?” he asked. Her eyebrows narrowed. “Do you want it or not?” Lucan took it, and at once, his hands felt powdery and gooey. Rüfus handed him a stick and started roasting his. Ah, marshmallows. It couldn’t be hard for her to say that name. Her problem was him. He stabbed the stick through and roasted the surface over the fire. The sugar melted and burned into a crispy brown shell, and a hint of what smelled like butterscotch brushed up his nose. “Lucan, tell us a bit about your friends.” Pete ate his share of marshmallows without roasting them over the fire. “All we know is they’re Children of Rima.” “Their names are Zorn and Oscern.” Lucan blew the fire off his marshmallow. “We’ve known each other all our life.” “Where did you guys grow up?” “Truterson.” He gave his marshmallow a bite. A gooey texture clung from the stick to his lip. The smoked sweet and rich flavors melted in his mouth. “And you’re certain they would be in Mudburrow, not Truterson?” Wein added. “After three years working for Vinol, it’s not safe to go down south.” Wiping his lips from the sticky sugar, he turned to the wagon, filled with chests of items. “How fast do you think we will sell Matia’s goods?” “Hard to tell. It’s still summer, so I’m going to have to be persuasive,” Wein gave the wagon a look. “About three weeks, more from how packed my parents crammed every trunk.” Pete and Gourd shared a tent together. Rüfus had his own, probably because he was a big guy, and Wein and Elene shared their own. Lucan lay by the fire and brought out his necklace. He liked to keep it under his garments in the day to avoid thieves from thinking he had anything worth taking, but at night he couldn’t rest without looking at it, knowing it was in his possession. “What are you doing?” Wein said. “We got room in our tent.” Lucan raised his head and looked at him. “I’m fine here.” “Are you sure? Mosquitoes will eat you alive.” “I like it like this,” he said, tucking his necklace back under his shirt. For the rest of the night, Rüfus kept watch, and Elene didn’t turn in. She sat there, holding her buck-shaped mug, watching the fire repeatedly flicker. Rüfus would take frequent trips to relieve himself, return, and chat with her. When he saw he was peeking at them, he went back to keep watch. The following day Elene was sleeping in the back of the wagon. Wein draped a blanket of protection over her face to shield her from the sun. It was a wild guess, but she probably didn’t trust to close her eyes with him in the group. Ahead was a city with towering walls that surrounded the place. Because of that blizzard three years ago, Lucan never got to visit Lyrin Town. It almost looked like a fort from how many campsites were outside. Each spot had a partially divided wall with its own stables for horses and donkeys to fit in. Some were covered in tapestry. He hadn’t figured out why there was so much privacy until he saw a woman walk out, corset loose from her abdomen. Wein informed him they would rent out one of those awful spaces. Lyrin Town looked like it had affordable lodging space, but he was too tired from the journey to find any point in it. They were the experts in this region, not him. The campsite that was open for them was on the opposite side of town. Wein went to set his vending table in the town, Gourd and Rüfus went along to pay for the reservation fee, while Pete, Elene, and he stayed to set up the tents. “You guys really going to risk sleeping out here?” he asked. “Place kind of stinks.” “Get used to it,” Pete said. “This is the better option. Wein’s going to be in town all day, so sticking with the rest of his wares and the horses is cheaper.” “At the cost of safety.” “Hey, that’s what we’re here for.” Elene boiled a pot of water over the fire. Little by little, she would pour dried flowers and stir the content. She didn’t seem bothered by the decision, but from the dagger on her belt, she must know the danger, either from thieves or their very own neighbors who camped in the other reserved spots. It was getting dark, and hunger was sinking in. The spinach tart was gone, but he had Olivia’s pastries to enjoy. With the others in the town, there was only Pete to take a piece. Elene didn’t even look at the box when he offered. She seemed hyper-focused, arranging the iron pan and steadying her basket. Wein came back with Gourd, but Rüfus stayed in town. Without asking, Pete helped him unharness the horses and take them back to the stables. Lucan watched, arms crossed. The place carried a lingering smell of grime, and wherever the sewage leaked from in the city. “Any sales?” Elene asked without looking at her brother. “Just two of mother’s handkerchiefs and four of Father’s wool.” Wein seemed irritated by it. The short sales were going to be a problem, it seemed. When she looked up, she looked around as if realizing something was amiss. “Where did Rüfus go this time?” “He’s at the tavern. Just couldn’t wait another day to be in those women’s company.” Elene shook her head but said she would get started on cooking. Lucan lay in his usual spot by the fire, and before he knew it, he fell asleep, hand pressed on the discomfort in his chest. hollow clatter shook Lucan awake. He rolled to his side, knee pinned on the soil with his hip half raised, hand clutching where he lay his sword. Minding the fire, where the noise came from, was Elene, one eyebrow raised. Like every waking hour, she didn’t say good morning, nor did she apologize for the noise. Lucan rubbed his lower backside. Three nights of sleeping on the ground were stiffening his muscles. The grim cloudy sky made the heat that much more unbearable, his shirt would stick to his skin, and he had to make space in his crotch area so his balls wouldn’t stick to his leg. Seeing her work, Elene made that weird pink batter again, plopping it into the cast iron griddle, a flat rectangle shape with low sides. A line of people from the campsite waited for Elene’s fresh batch. Since they had that encounter with the tomato star soup, she avoided him, focusing solely on her pink pancakes or caring for the horses. When she needed to wash, she did it in a stable, and if she needed to buy food, Gourd would get it for her. Wein got out of the tent, surprising him. Normally he would leave for Lyrin Town at Dawn, but it seemed he was running late. He secured his Red Guild hat and gave the feather a flick. “Care to join me today, Lucan?” He took a batch of the pink pancakes Elene had made and brought them to the front seat of the wagon. “You can see how a pain in the ass my job is.” A “Why the hell not?” It was better than walking around Lyrin Town and risking wasting his coin. From the snore in the other tent, Rüfus had gone to the tavern again and was out cold. “Does that mean I’m skipping my turn in cleaning the stables?” Wein chuckled. “Don’t count on it.” Lyrin Town’s guards kept the door open for the merchants and their wagons. The cobbled roads were cramped and wet. Like most mornings with large populations, there was a pungent smell of the open sewers. The townspeople busied the sidewalk, their talking muddled by the sound of their steps and the carriages passing by. Uphill was the central market and its bustling noise. “Keep an eye out for folks with sticky fingers,” Wein said. “Especially the young ones.” “You don’t have to tell me that twice.” A boy was following their cart. The holes on his cloak were pulled more over his face to hide his identity. But the boy never got too close, as Lucan was staring at him. Sorry kid. You’ll have to be hungry today. This was Matia’s hard work, after all. Just now, he felt like a hypocrite. “I think I finally understand how pissed off the merchants were when we tried to swipe a few items.” “Why did you steal?” Wein asked. “Ah, we were hungry orphans. Probably just like that kid.” “Orphaned? I thought you had a mother and an absent father.” “I never told you that.” Suddenly, a certain maiden came to mind. “Camilla told you, didn’t she?” “She and Terra are close friends, so naturally, they started talking without wondering if I was listening.” Lyrin Town had a long road that stretched through the city. Vendors occupied every space, calling their customers over. Wein organized his table, starting with a tarp so the surface of the wood wouldn’t damage them. Another overhead to block the sun. Lucan stacked the trunks from the wagon. To any curious person, one could imagine the content carried gold or silverware, but when he opened it, it was just cases of wooden boxes with balls of wool yarn. Wein said that wool’s greatest enemy was moths, so each trunk had airtight boxes of neatly balled wool. Besides the basic ivory color, there were greys and other various bright colors, gold orange, pale pink, a cool green, much like the moss, and different shades of blue. Finely knitted handkerchiefs of various designs were on display, shawls, blankets, anything the Harrow could make. “Why don’t you have a partner to help you with this?” Lucan asked, seeing Wein put the basket of pancakes in the center of the table. “You mean… like a wife?” “Or husband.” Wein shrugged. “When you grow up in a town with the same people, you end up knowing too much, the good and the bad. Kind of hard to find someone for the longer term.” By the afternoon, Lucan noticed the line between haggling down a price and getting one’s money’s worth. Wein often had to repeat the same sales pitch. He forced many smiles with buyers who gave him tall tales about why he should lower the price. Watching it over and over was like pulling one’s hair out and being told to put it back. The rest of the day went slow, changing items, restocking some areas of the table, and rotating the elegant handkerchiefs Mrs. Harrow made. The basket of Elene’s honey pancakes was down to five. It wouldn’t hurt to get a bite, not after he skipped his morning meal. He reached for it, but just as he did, Wein took his wrist. “Two coppers for one honey pancake,” he said. “Four for calling my sister a heathen.” “Best to let someone else enjoy them.” Lucan moved back and sank his hands into his pocket. Wein frowned, seeing he wouldn’t buy one. “Hey, she called me a killer.” “She told me.” His stare moved to the basket. “But those pancakes are her only means of income. So, if you really want one, pay up.” “Yeah? Well, if she wants to make money, why isn’t she helping you?” “She does help me, but she doesn’t like Lyrin Town.” Wein moved from the basket and went to tidy up the scarfs they hung on the poles. “Listen, while we’re talking about my sister, I need to tell you about my friends. They’re still men, just like you’re still a man.” “Alright?” “If they say anything vulgar or try at her, let me know.” “I thought you and your traveling companions were all one happy family?” Lucan leaned on the trunk. His feet were hurting from standing all day. “We are.” Wein ruffled the back of his hair. “Pete and Gourd, I trust, but Rüfus is a heavy drinker with a weakness for sex workers. I fear with my sister’s transgression, he’ll probably think it’s alright if he tried at her.” “Transgression?” Wein always spoke in riddles, with himself, or when regarding Elene. “You mean she broke some rule?” “Anyway, Rüfus is well-meaning, but I can never be too careful, and since we’ll be traveling together, I’m only asking you what I asked Pete and Gourd. So, if you can help it, don’t let them be alone.” “Your sister is a big girl.” And old enough too. “I doubt she’ll need an extra pair of eyes.” Wein’s face hardened. “She’s still my little sister. I thought you’d understand, seeing you were desperate to find your friends in your feeble condition.” “Alright, you got me there.” Lucan rubbed his jaw. He didn’t mean to sound callous over what his little sister meant to him. “Sorry.” “It’s alright.” As the hours passed, the same heavy cloud from the morning returned. The sight alone made Wein curse. They pulled through the day until there was no longer enough light for customers to look at their wares. At the campsite, Gourd, Pete, and Rüfus were in their regular clothes. He and the others agreed to go for a drink. Instead of his leather armor, Pete wore a plain shirt with trousers, and Gourd wore suspenders over his. Rüfus wore a sleeveless shirt, rubbing the area on his shoulder. “Thanks for stitching the hole in my pants,” he told Elene. “You’re welcome.” She snugged her fabric scissors back on her leather belt with a holder that also carried some yarn. Rüfus frequented The Lampstone tavern, calling it affordable and entertaining. The room carried a cloud of tobacco, with dice players at every table. Sex workers swarmed the place, touching their arms as they went to a table. Their skirts were raised above their knee, with no pantalettes. Rüfus slapped one of the woman’s asses. He carried the laughing pick of the day over his back and went upstairs. “Looks like Rüfus is going to spend good coin on a room again,” muttered Gourd. He waved the server down and ordered their beer. “Again?” Lucan said. Rüfus unquestionably had a problem with beer and women. Did he think the further he was from Melodia, the less Skiar could see? “Good, we won’t have to smell his farts,” said Pete. Gourd and Pete started playing a game of dice called Winner’s Luck. He tried to keep up with the game, but he wasn’t much of a player, not like Zorn. “Think it will rain?” Lucan said after his second tankard. He wasn’t asking how the game was played, but he noticed it was solely based on chance and the call the player made. “It’s just how Lyrin Town is,” said Gourd, smiling at the outcome of the game. “You’re going to get squashed, Pete.” “Gourd, by all means, you’re the squash.” By his third tankard, Lucan couldn’t hold his bladder any longer. He went to the back of the tavern, where the men relieved themselves. Several men were already at the spot, buttoning up and walking back into the tavern. As Lucan undid his trousers, he heard a rustle in the bushes, followed by moans. A man was leaning by the lamppost, eating a drumstick as he watched. When their stare met, he smiled. “Five coppa’ if you wanna be next.” Lucan ignored him and relieved his bladder, dogs were barking in the distance, and the smell of metal and piss was getting to him. After he shook it off, he buttoned his trousers. The moment he turned, he felt a hand brush against his face. He jumped and gripped the hilt of his sword. The man with the drumstick was looking at him strangely, more so at his fist clenching the hilt of his sword. Lucan left the tavern and hurried to the nearest entrance of the alley. He waited for someone to appear, some robber, some drunk who wanted to hurt him. “If you’re going to come at me, just do it,” he called to the dark. Frustrated by the coward, he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. He scoped the area until he was sure no one was following and closed his eyes. After a few steady breaths, what little noise he picked up went dead. His sight took him elsewhere, to a warping blue tunnel with the light coming at the end. He went through it for some sound to come back, but it was distorted, and his eyesight was back. Lucan saw himself hovering over his head. His vision had a blue overlay mostly caked under a blend of grey. Any movement or noise reflected streams of gold light. He hovered over the street as if he was a kite, picked up by the wind. The handiness of having this ability allowed him to see without his physical body. Back to the area he left, the bush was still rustling, the man was still watching, and a drunk was unaware he was tinkling on his boots. After he circled back, he watched himself stand still, eyes shut, focused only on what he could see. His sight came back, leaving him to breathe. Perhaps the alcohol got to him. In the morning was the same sizzle and sweet smell of those strange pink pancakes. Wein had invited him for another round at the vendor’s table, and though Lucan had enough from one visit, he obliged. “The stables are dirty,” Elene commented out of the air. Wein side-eyed him. “I noticed.” “Let Rüfus handle it,” Lucan said. That Little Heathen had to butt in. “Sorry, but that’s on you,” Rüfus said, yawning from how little sleep he had gotten. “Elene is sending me on an errand for potatoes,” “And I’m going with him,” Gourd said. “Wein needs me to fetch some wood glue and oil.” “I’m guarding,” Pete muttered. “Alright, and how many more days are we going to be doing this?” Lucan said, rolling his neck. “Why don’t we just leave Lyrin Town and head out?” Wein crossed his arms. “Where did this idea come from?” “It’s been on my mind a day after we arrived. Sell your wares on the road and at Mudburrow. We still have a long road, and summer will go by before we know it. You’ll probably sell more of your wares quicker than this old place.” Wein looked at Elene, who was looking back at him. He was thinking about it or perhaps waiting to see what she would say. Finally, he answered. “No, Father said this is where he wanted to open shop.” “And on Vine Road, we’ll run into many traders and travelers. You’d empty your trunk more in half the time.” “I’m sorry, Lucan. I know you want to see your friends, but I’m not leaving earlier than planned.” The sun had gone, and the same humid night took its place. After returning from a long day, Lucan could smell sausages lingering by the campfire. The men were already laughing, on their asses, and gobbling the food. “Don’t forget Lucan, you got a stable to clean.” Wein rubbed his shoulders and joined them. “And don’t forget to feed them.” “Terrific.” Lucan left the campsite and went into the stables. Two oil lamps lit up the room. The place was poorly constructed or perhaps neglected. There were cracks that should have been big enough to ventilate the smell of manure. Lucan rolled his sleeves and went for the pitchfork. He approached the stalls and peered at the Harrow’s shit droppers. “You’re Ivory,” he told the white one who stepped into the back corner. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious.” The black horse stepped up to him when he got close. “And you must be Fior.” A bed of straw in the stalls helped soak up the mess. One by one, Lucan collected the mess, holding his breath many times and growing dizzy by it. A nudge sent him stumbling to the wall, nearly sliding with the manure he hadn’t picked up. “Hey! What was that for?” Fior huffed and bobbed his head to the feeding box. “Oh, you want your food.” He paced to the exit and gave the gate a hard shut. “Well, I’m not your servant. You’re going to have to wait until I’m done.” After piling all the large clumps of horseshit on the wheelbarrow, Lucan started to scatter fresh straw on the ground, but not without checking to see what Fior would do. The horse stood still, watching every direction he went. Lucan grabbed three flakes of hay. Fior went to the corner where the low-hanging box lay. Just that moment, he passed Fior’s stall and went to Ivory, and filled his box. Fior huffed. “Hey you pushed me.” He grabbed the flakes of hay and finally gave Fior what he wanted. Traveling with a wagon and two horses was laborious and expensive. It was cheaper alone, but of course, he didn’t have any items to sell. As he rolled the wheelbarrow out, Fior huffed slightly, leaning more toward him. “What is it now?” There was a rope that looked like it had come undone. A copper- like salt brick had fallen and stumbled under the fencing, away from Fior’s reach. “So that’s what you wanted.” Just as he was trying to wrap it around the post, Fior began to lick his fingers, trying to reach the salt brick. “Alright,” he stammered. “Have at it.” Lucan went back to work, humming to himself. Passing him now and then, he noticed Fior would stop licking the salt brick if he stopped humming. “You like the tune?” he asked as he passed him. “You’re a horse, so I doubt you’ll understand A Thousand Leaves of Light.” The stables were clean, the horses were fed, and the wheelbarrow could be dumped in the morning. His humming continued, but soon the words came out. Download 3.95 Mb. Do'stlaringiz bilan baham: 
|