A Scoundrel's Song

15

Escape from the Orususkan camp did not come without tragedy. Niico had predicted it and his fears soon became realised. Yet, escape they had, trundling away as the brutality of war expressed itself in the field and hills south of Gidogno. A perilous journey had followed, eastward, attempting to place as much distance as they could between themselves and the warring armies.

A little-used path had carried them far, travelling through a chill night, clouds adorning the skies as though the Patrons themselves pitied the lives lost. The sparse forest hid them as much as they could hope from any pursuit and, now, at the very edge of Lake Caranccilio, they had finally come to rest, all the better to take stock of their near deaths and to tend to wounds and tired limbs.

"Are you just going to lie there all day?" The kick to Niico's leg was entirely unnecessary, but Pel cared little for his injuries. "Do something! Collect wood. Take stock of the food. Care for the horses. Something!"

"I cannot! My war wound pains me so." He rubbed his leg as Pel passed him by, fresh ingredients for her tonics awaiting preparation. "Should I over-exert myself, I will never be the same. My life will be at an end. My status as a legendary bard will never come to pass. Have pity!"

"You sprained your finger. You'll live." She couldn't possibly understand. "If you hadn't panicked, you wouldn't have fallen into the wagon. It's your own fault."

"My finger is broken! True, the break is clean, but it could easily turn gangrenous at any moment." He nursed his hand against his chest, stifling a pained gasp. "Without this hand, how could I ever create my glorious song? Without this hand, how can I perform any trick or feat of prestidigitation? You are a cold-hearted woman and you have my pity, even if I have none of yours."

At the lake's edge, the boy prowled this way and that. It seemed clear that Herit dearly wished to swim in those cooling, blue waters, but Akafa would not allow it. The powerful man, himself, waded deep into the waters, crude fishing spear in hand, attempting to catch supper, but Niico doubted he would catch anything. The fish in Lake Caranccilio preferred the deeper regions. The cold and the dark. Niico knew well, he had tried fishing here before with no luck.

"Why can't I swim?" The boy fair stamped his feet, heading one way and then back again, scowling at his brother. "I've swum before! I know how."

"Not in the presence of others. You know this." Muscles glistening with sweat, Akafa thrust the spear deep in the waters, only to emerge bereft of a catch. "Later, I shall take you further along the bank and you can swim privately."

"I want to swim now!" The boy had shown no remorse for running away during the battle, and had started to become more obdurate as the days wore on. Perhaps Akafa should use the spear on the boy's backside? "No-one will see! I'll swim in my clothes!"

"I said no!" Powerful arms launched the spear down beneath the surface of the lake as Akafa scowled toward Herit. "You must remain ..."

Akafa's head whipped back around. Niico knew what the man had started to say. The boy must remain pure, or unsullied, or clean, or any other number of words that meant the same thing. How swimming in a lake could dirty the child, Niico would never know. Caranccilio was one of the most beautiful places in all of Larissa. Peaceful and free of too much encroachment from people.

The spear emerged from the lake waters holding a huge fish, wriggling and flicking its tail in a pointless attempt to return to its watery home. Luck. That man had more than his fair share of that and Niico doubted he would catch another. One fish was fine, but there were five of them to feed. Herit bounced and clapped, laughing, his pleas to swim forgotten in the face of his brother catching the fish.

He did look magnificent, though, which caused a stir in Niico's loins. Either he would have to pee, see to his own needs, or find Antioni. The young man had taken to sitting away from Niico, of late. Probably through fear he could exacerbate Niico's terrible injury. Squinting with one eye, Niico lifted his head, searching to both sides, out from the shade of the wagon that he lay beside.