The Wings of Ashtaroth

Chapter 5: Mazna: Section VI: Kirin

Kirin: Lorar: A Tavern

Kirin spat a gob of wine onto the tavern floor as yet another Yellower passed the small wood table where he and Ydelka were rolling dice. He'd invited Ydelka here to relax, but the Yellowers were ruining it, making the already cramped, low-ceilinged space feel that much smaller.

The Yellow senator didn't even notice Kirin's insult, just kept walking to greet his friends: five men in long, white and yellow tunics clustered around two tables close to the counter at the tavern's front, already deep in their cups and diving further. They threw up their hands and cheered as the newcomer reached them, the sound overwhelming all other chatter.

Yakovius was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he swore off taverns like he did all other kinds of fun. Then again, it was evening—perhaps he was with his family.

Kirin's stomach seemed to twist as though with a perverse kind of disappointment, but that was foolish. When he'd escorted Yakovius Lutelian home a week ago, the man had been entertaining in his own way, but he and Kirin shared nothing in common. The head of Yellow Faction was a coward and an eel just like his brethren at those tables. Here these men sat smiling, and laughing, and howling for peace as the first dribbles of another wave of refugees flooded through the city gates.

"I'm not paying for another," said Ydelka, drawing Kirin's attention.

Kirin frowned. "What?"

She glared at him, gently swiping the dice to the side of the table. "I'm not paying for more wine if all you plan to do is quench the floor."

"They're cowards," said Kirin, as another cheer went up around the Yellowers' table.

Ydelka snorted. "Most men are. What's soured you against these men specifically? Did Yakovius make you cry?"

Kirin scoffed. "I don't cry."

The Yellowers were stretching their necks forward, whispering to each other in the hushed voices of serpents. Kirin didn't know any of their names, but it was easy enough to memorize them by their features: Potbelly, Squeaker, Longnose, Piggy.

"Everyone cries." Ydelka grabbed one of the coins to the side of the table and flicked it in the air. "Especially if he's seen as much pain and death as you."

Potbelly and Longnose broke away from the others. Longnose clamped his hand over Potbelly's shoulder, and they strode away from the table, voices so low they dragged on the stone floor.

Kirin averted his gaze as they passed.

Longnose sounded angry, his words as he walked past sharp enough that Kirin made out part of the whisper. "More than a few of us would rather a loss . . . ." He slapped Potbelly's back. "Just think on it."

Ydelka snapped her fingers. "You're the one who asked me to join you, but you've spent most of our time together spying."

The pair stepped out of range of Kirin's hearing, their words drowned out by the barking of a cur outside the tavern and the much louder bellow of Piggy from the Yellowers' table.

"I'm not spying," he protested.

"No, just listening to other people's private conversations." She sipped her wine, staring at him with an amused, doe-eyed expression.

It wasn't his fault the Yellowers had turned up, and he couldn't help that they were suspicious. "Marianus wouldn't countenance spying."

"So you must not be a spy?" Ydelka laughed, a sound like the scale of a harp. Beautiful. "You wouldn't be alone, you know. Marianus has spies from here to Indas." She slid her finger along her cup. "He and half the senate, and they'd be fools not to."