A Scoundrel's Song

8

Niico knew full well who, between himself and Pelenia, had the greater wisdom and the greater knowledge of the wilds and towns of Larissa, but he had to, grudgingly, accept that she was right about taking the Sasccirini Pass, rather than continuing south to Fenorlo. No-one would want to follow them through the lands of the Driadin. Horrible, vile creatures that Niico would prefer never to see again in his lifetime.

The Driadin were those type of Other-Kin that people tended to leave alone. Allow them to live their lives in whichever kind of hovel they liked to huddle in, eat whatever foul-tasting foods they ate and fight among themselves, as long as they left humans alone. The Driadin had mountainous enclaves throughout the world, but few people ever had dealings with them. Which suited Niico nicely.

The Fae were similar, except those little, bark-skinned people had a wanderlust that saw them spreading out into human areas without a care or a thought for the humans they encountered. When Niico had found out that their skin wasn't actually bark, but normal skin that pretended to be bark, he had thought himself more than a little deceived. Of course, since the Three Kingdoms of Larissa, Garthae and Hathbad had declared war on the tree-loving Fae, they weren't quite as plentiful outside of the Vale as they once were.

The Driadin, however, stubbornly remained in their mountain homes, terrorising any that passed through their lands. Especially, it had seemed to Niico in his few encounters with them, him. They hadn't even reached the heights of the mountains where they would come across the stone-skinned people, yet Niico already felt his chest tighten at every sound and movement. Also, like the Fae, Driadin skin wasn't actually stone. Deceivers!

It was a pleasant day, apart from the upcoming tribulations, though. Sunlight baking already dry and dusty ground, but a cooling breeze would make occasional forays into the wagon, bringing welcome relief to the heat. They took turns sitting in the back of the wagon, relishing the respite from the sunlight that attempted to dry them all into liquid-free husks. At the moment, Antioni held the reins and Niico had cleverly timed their shifts so that they never spent time together.

Except during the night, when Niico and Antioni would lay upon threadbare blankets beneath the stars, taking pleasure from each other and the cool surroundings. The others took turns to sleep within the wagon, while one would lay beneath, sheltered from the possibility of rain that would, sometimes, sweep down from the mountains without warning. Their luck had held on that score, with only light drizzle falling upon them during the long days. So far.

"Another thing I truly despise about towns." The silence bothered Niico as it always did and he wafted a makeshift fan toward his face. "Delvers. Patrons! I hate delvers!"

"What's a delver?" Herit seemed the only one unaffected by the heat and had taken to sitting, watching Niico for the express purpose of annoying him. "Are they adventurers? Exploring the depths of the world in search of monsters and treasure? Like pirates! But on land. I'm a pirate. Or I will be. One day."

"Just like you're a prince and just like you're a mage, eh?" The boy liked his fantasies, as much as he liked annoying Niico. Niico opened one eye and, as expected, the boy stared at him. "Delvers are those people that frequent markets and merchants and wait until they have chosen the wares they want to purchase, and then for the seller to bag them and then, and only then, decide to delve into their coin purse to poke around and find the exact amount in the tiniest denomination of coin they can find and then, and then! Oh! They take each coin out, one-by-one, to place into the merchant's waiting palm. Patrons! I hate them."

He had pantomimed the removal of the coins in a slow, not at all exaggerated, pace, the scowl upon his features deepening with every imaginary coin. If Niico were a violent person, which he wasn't, because violence hurt, he would have delvers whipped from one end of a settlement to the other until they learned the error of their ways. The merchants and marketers called out their prices! It didn't take a scholar to have the correct amount of money ready to pay!