A Scoundrel's Song

12

As ever, Tekhiyen fussed over him, checking him over and smiling up to him. He always felt as though she looked for stolen objects, which was fair, but knew that she wasn't. For whatever reason, she liked him and wanted to ensure he was fine. Of course, Goruktyun looked as though he wanted to kill Niico, which was also fair, but, again, Niico doubted he really wanted to. Not often, at least.

The entire family had escorted them through the tunnels and cave systems that led out to the surface world above. Eight Driadin children, all trying to compete in one challenge or another along the way. How the parents could deal with it, all the time, Niico could never understand, but he could understand parental love when he saw it. And exhaustion. And weariness. Parenthood took its toll.

There the wagon sat, driven through the pass by Driadin, which was appreciated. Especially by Pel. The Sasccirini Pass was not for the faint of heart, not that that was a problem for Pelenia, but she no doubt preferred others to make the perilous journey. Now, with fresh supplies and water, the troupe were almost ready to set off once again. Niico suspected that the 'supplies' involved a lot of mushrooms.

"Now, the next time, I expect you to visit sooner, rather than later. You know full well that Goruk only means he'll kill you every so often. Most of the time he only wants to hurt you. A little." Tekhiyen stepped back, hands on her hips, surveying Niico. "You look after Pelenia. She's a better friend than you deserve. And those other three. Especially the child. Any harm comes to them, I'll blame you."

"They're hardly my responsibility." He readjusted the hang of his doublet, moved through Tekhiyen's ministrations. "I expect I should thank you. Thank you."

"I don't expect much from you, my lovely, because I'd spend my entire life disappointed." She looked around, toward the wagon, where Akafa, Herit and Antioni were readying to set out. "You could do worse, you know. A man of your age should be looking to settle down."

"I'm not old!" His own eyes trailed across, catching sight of Akafa's muscles as he lifted Herit into the back of the wagon. "He is magnificent, isn't he?"

Tekhiyen reached up, grabbing his ear and, with no mercy at all, dragged his head down to her level. She patted his cheek, a little harder than necessary, and pointed not at Akafa, but toward Antioni, who stood to the side of the wagon, looking as though he had no idea what he was doing. He had no idea because he wasn't doing anything.

"Not the beautiful one, idiot! The pretty one." Releasing his ear, she ignored Niico's exaggerated pained expression. "He's a good boy. Polite, loyal and not one to be used and discarded. If you don't want to be with him, let him go. The threat about any of them getting harmed? That includes emotional. Don't test me on that!"

"Fine!" Niico felt certain she had reopened a healed piercing hole in his earlobe and checked his fingers for blood. "I'll drop him off at the next town."

He wouldn't. Antioni had a way of comforting Niico that few had ever done before. That didn't mean he should settle down with him, buying a house and chickens and things, growing old together. The thought almost made Niico retch. Not at Antioni, as such, but at the sickly sweet vision of an old age where he, clearly, didn't have enough money to buy a bigger house. And more chickens.

Tekhiyen started to say something else, but Pel caught her arm, ushering the Driadin woman away. Their heads drew close as they discussed things in whispers in that way that women did across the world. Pretending great import while actually talking about nothing of interest. Niico had always wanted to listen in to those kinds of conversations, if only to see how banal they truly were.

Which left him with Goruktyun, who had stood there throughout the conversation and threats from Tekhiyen, saying nothing. Looking uncomfortable. Left out of the conversation, even though he had started to speak several times, silenced by a frigid glare from his beloved, terrifying wife. He coughed, rocking backward and forward on his boots, hands in pockets in his trousers.