A Scoundrel's Song

10

Herit appeared fascinated by the screaming children that ran around, challenging each other to various tasks, such as who could eat their plate of mushrooms faster, who had the longest arms and who could stand on their heads the longest. Each of the children stood head and shoulders shorter than Herit, even though at least three of them were older. Possibly five of them.

Akafa sat with his shoulders slumped, trying to hide his great size as Goruktyun looked to the man's muscles, gauging Akafa's strength with unreserved interest as he chewed upon the head of a large mushroom as though he ate a chicken leg. Antioni looked about him in silence, forgotten by everybody, disregarded as no challenge by the Driadin and thought of as nothing but a follower of Niico's group.

Pel and Tekhiyen sat together, heads close as they made occasional glances toward Niico, or Goruktyun. And Niico, himself, ignored them all, hoping for this nightmare to end and find somewhere quiet. He had a headache that only grew worse at the constant screeching of the children.

"By Yaktur Kha's beard! I want to test that man's strength!" Goruktyun launched a slap against Niico's arm, sending stinging ripples down to Niico's fingers. "Not even one, innocent, arm wrestle? Not a single exchange of strikes? I swear, no bones will break. This time."

"Leave the man alone, Goruktyun. You have plenty of Driadin to test your strength against." Niico poked and prodded the food around on his plate, and smirked. "Or are you getting too old to fight your own people?"

"What?" Goruktyun slammed the table, rising to his feet, and balled a fist. "I'll beat you senseless for that insult! I'll turn your skull into a drinking goblet! I'll rend your ..."

"Goruk. Sit." Tekhiyen didn't even look to her husband. Nor did she raise her voice. "I apologise Akafa, for the rudeness of my husband. Fifty years and still not house trained."

"Thank you, lady of the house." Akafa touched his sculpted chest as he bowed. "You honour me."

Niico had tried all that kind of gentle politeness, in the past, but Tekhiyen had never giggled at him. Then again, Akafa had that look about him, a soft, approachable quality that women appeared to like. Niico had no interest in attracting women, anyway, but still, he felt a little envious of Akafa's differing treatment.

"Honour? Honour would be giving the man of the house the challenge he needs. Honour would be smelling blood drawn from a glorious fight! Honour would be ..." Goruktyun stopped, seeing the passing look from his wife, and made an exaggerated swallow. "You honour us with your presence, Akafa of Orususk."

Goruktyun glowered at Niico, as though he were at fault, and then glared at his plate, leaning an elbow on the table, head on his fist, as he stabbed at the food on his plate. Tekhiyen had never stopped Goruktyun from shouting at Niico. If this carried on, Niico would reconsider the entire 'no challenges' thing, but he remembered that thankful look from his enormous companion. Such tales of suffering that man must have. Tales that Niico did not want to hear. Pain, even that of others, made him nauseous.

Off to the side, Herit had started to join in the boisterous games of the children, swamped by the stone-skinned, tiny people as they now tried to see who could shoulder-barge the others hard enough to make them topple over. They never stopped. A constant stream of shouting, screaming and pointless challenges. Niico would have preferred shivering in the back of the wagon than this. It least, up there, he would only hear the scream of winds buffeting the mountain sides through the pass.

The boy held his own, Niico noticed, though, due to their height differences, the Driadin children tended to barge into Herit's stomach, rather than the chest, causing him to gasp every time. When it came to Herit's turn, the young lad dipped his head, ran toward the Driadin child, and missed, collapsing against a table, something falling and smashing.