A Scoundrel's Song

25

The cave was easier to find than Niico had expected. Only a few feet from the road, a small pit beside it that had an abandoned fishing rod inside, the cave looked little more than a cleft in the rock face. A blemish. Deep enough for one person, if they huddled really tightly, but not for any more. Niico doubted even Herit could fit in with anyone else and Akafa, for certain, would find his long legs and beautiful, bulky muscles had no place to hide. If he lived, that is.

Pelenia, as expected, sat there, still in make-up and wig, still mired in her mad old crone act that immediately fell away as she realised the people approaching were not someone trying to kill her. She poked a stick in the little fire that she had made and waited for Niico to dismount, leaving Herit to get down through his own means. Niico tied the horse to a nearby bush and took another look between the horse's rear legs. A mare. They all looked the same to him.

"You wouldn't believe what happened to us." He detached the key harp, laying it beside Pel and dropped to the ground, weary and saddle sore. "It was the most bizarre ..."

"You managed to escape and, in the process, set fire to yet another town." Using the stick, she pointed to the sky, where a vibrant orange glow hid the stars. "One day, we'll leave a place and not have to worry about returning."

"Ah! See, that wasn't my fault." He waved a dismissive hand in the general direction of the burning Ancomo. "Not directly. Not this time. What happened was ..."

Pel held up a hand, staring out into the darkness and then stood. Herit had found a way off the horse and now stood beside her. He, too, looked away from the cave mouth, peering with narrowed eyes. They were both mad, of course, because Niico had heard nothing and he prided himself about the sharpness of his senses. He could hear a butterfly flap its wings at twenty paces. Could see the plumage of an eagle as it flew high overhead. Could feel the imperfections in the smoothest metals. There was not a single chance they would have heard something he had not.

When Akafa appeared out of the darkness, covered in blood, again, and striding toward the fire, Niico could only assume that the others weren't paying attention to him as he related his story. That wouldn't do. If anyone deserved anyone's attention, it was Niico! As soon as he saw his brother appearing, Herit bounded away, jumping into the enormous arms of Akafa, laughing and pressing his forehead against Akafa's.

"I would have come earlier, but I had to avoid a group of oddly dressed people calling for Niico's blood." Akafa lowered Herit to the ground and sat beside the fire, not appearing in the slightest bothered by his bloodied appearance. "Apparently, Niico murdered the head of the family Engallini. As preposterous as that sounds."

"I did not murder anybody!" Niico jumped to his feet as everyone else sat down. "As I was saying before you rudely interrupted ... and I knew you were there, by the way. I just didn't want to spoil the surprise. Anyway, what happened was ..."

"Does anyone hear singing?" Herit, screwing up his elfin features, rose to his feet again, looking back toward the road. "Not good singing, but singing. I sing really good, you know. Better than that."

Both Pel and Akafa listened, tilting their heads, and began to make slow nods. Niico couldn't hear a thing. Even the sounds of the countryside were few and far between. The usual sounds of cicadas and night owls, of bats and the howls of animals in the dark were, largely, absent. If the others could hear singing, and he could not, he could only conclude he had sat in the wrong place. Sounds dulled by the shape of the rock face. Or it came from the side, where he had turned his back to.

Then, the rattling of wheels upon packed dirt drifted toward them and, there, before Niico, Antioni appeared, driving the wagon while singing to himself. Badly. The war horse snorted as it saw the new mare Niico had found, the gelding, tied to the rear of the cart, not even noticing. Upon seeing everyone around the fire, Antioni waved as though they hadn't all escaped sudden death, or, worse, loss of money that they didn't really have.