A Scoundrel's Song

24

Niico found a penis-shaped hat-mask as he rushed Herit through the crowded street, pulling it down upon his head, trying his very best to blend in with the revellers, who hooted and sang and cheered as they passed through torch-lit streets. He didn't like having to shoulder the responsibility of caring for the boy in such circumstances. Or any circumstances, for that matter.

"Akafa will be alright. There were only seven of them. If I'd stayed, I'd have hit them all so hard." Herit held on to Niico's doublet, slowing them both down. "Do you want me to use magic? I can make a dragon appear to scare them away."

"There's no such thing as dragons, boy." Niico had no patience for flights of fancy from a child. They needed to find a way out of Ancomo. "Listen, if we head north, we'll hit the main street out of here and then, if Akafa survives, we'll meet him soon. Yes? Now, keep up."

The key harp pounded against Niico's back, heavier than he expected, but at least he had an instrument. More important than keeping the boy alive, he needed that instrument to make a lasting legacy. He had no confidence that Antioni would survive, let alone get out of Ancomo with the wagon. No doubt, even now, the man lay in a pool of blood, jeered at by the attending crowds that had expected entertainment of a different kind.

Herit moved his hand from the doublet to fold into Niico's palm and Niico looked down as though he held a dead rat. There, he saw the ring upon Herit's finger and now wished that he had never given the child it. Should the family Engallini find him, and should the ring truly have magic, he would need it more than the boy.

Through the eyeholes of the mask of the hat, Niico looked around, standing upon tip-toes to survey they way ahead. This street would prove the most difficult one to pass through, a wide, tree-lined avenue that led north, to freedom and toward the cave Pelenia had mentioned. Strangely, there were fewer people here, the majority congregating in the centre where the festivities were at their height.

Here, Niico could see a number of areas where things could go wrong, but they had no choice. There were no back-alleys in this part of the town, huddled against a sheer cliff wall to one side and a steep drop behind the buildings to the other. Gripping Herit's hand a little too tight, he edged them out, dipping his head, the weight of the hat-mask's bloated adornment pointing the way.

Without revellers, the main street held more normal occupants with fewer wearing festival garments. Now Niico looked a little out of place, but others still paraded with their preferred organs on show, still shouting, still singing and laughing. Dogs ran wild across the street, excited by the tumult, running between the legs of skittish horses, their riders tugging at reins to haul their rearing hooves back to the cobbles.

"Should we run?" Herit laughed as another dog yapped at a frightened horse to the side, the rider kicking out and cursing the hound. "I can run faster than anyone. I wager you couldn't keep up."

"Shut up, boy! You talk nonsense and I'm trying to keep us hidden and safe!" That didn't seem to upset Herit as much as Niico had hoped, so he tugged the boy along a little harder. "It's a good thing you wear that ring. If anyone tries to kill us, I'll just hold you aloft before me."

"That would be fun!" Fun? Fun? The boy had no sense of danger! "Who's that?"

Niico came to an abrupt stop, adjusting the penis hat-mask to see something he had wished not to see. Once more, the crowds parted, not wishing to stand anywhere near the impending violence about to erupt around them. That was the smart thing to do. It left a pile of caged chickens to the side and a group of celebrants carrying a massive penis and vulva litter as the only ones remaining in the street.

Them and the group of similarly dressed people, all of the family Engallini, forming a line across the cobbled street, cutting off Niico's escape. And Herit's, too, he supposed. And, in front of that line of cloaked, knife-wielding, puffed-sleeve wearing idiots, stood the man Niico had not wanted to see ever again. The patriarch of the family Engallini. The bloated, corpulent ghoul of a man that had never seen an animal he wouldn't eat, given half the chance, and not always cooked, either.