The Venomancer

II.6 - The Wolves' Weakness

"But why would anyone do somethin' like this?" said Lofti hotly. "Gamlakh never hurt no-one. None of the towns and villages in the desertlands never did no harm. We don't deserve to die!"

"I don't know, Lofti." Cassa's expression shifted into a scowl. "Who is to say how the man's mind works when we can't be certain he even exists?"

"He exists," Voya said. "Fates o' Farba; I know he's real. Only a human being would be cruel enough."

His mother shuffled uncomfortably. "I won't have any more talk of fiends and freaks in front of the children. Cassa, you should know better than to bring up this kinda talk at the table."

"Apologies, Ma. Juino. Galli."

"So." Cassa's father clapped his palms together in an attempt to change the conversation. "Mr Aughtonlyle," he addressed Tan. "Is that an Almysi name? Don't sound much like one. Say, I met another Almysi boy not long ago. A fair-haired lad, only that he had this great pair of horns on his head, unlike you. Got a funny long name with about 'af a dozen words to it, as well ... prob'ly why it escapes me. Nice kid, though. Had these stupid feathers in his hair, he did."

Tan's heart ached a little at the mention of his tribesmen. He'd not seen a fellow Almysi since his father had embraced him and bid him farewell all those years ago. "Sounds about right," Tan mumbled.

Lofti turned on him with a grin. "You forest folk ain't built for no life in the desert. It's hard and harsh out here under the sun, so why would you and another one of your breed be all the way out here?"

Voya bared a chipped-toothed smile. "Well, would you like livin' in a forest way up north in all that snow?" he joked. "I imagine it's cold and damp most times."

"And you worship the deities still, don't ya?" their father chuckled. "In little shrines. Making offerings of fruit and tree blossoms, that kid said. No wonder your province has only ever raised competitive archers and never an army!"

"Ha! They'd be trying to shoot you down with a bouquet, is why!" Lofti laughed.

"Stop it!" Cassa barked, slamming his fist onto the tabletop. Cutlery rattled. The children flinched and his company fell into stunned silence. "Is this appropriate? As Gamlakhi natives you experience discrimination and gross mistreatment from the city every day. Think before you mock those of another culture."

"Simmer down, son," his father said. "Something bothering ya?"

"We ain't mockin' him," Lofti fired. "Fates allow, Cassa, you really can't have a laugh these days, can you?" Cassa didn't grace his brother with a reply and folded his arms across his chest. He didn't say much else after that.

After the awkwardness subsided and the contents of their plates vanished, Cassa insisted he and Tan depart. With disappointed glances exchanged between them, his parents wished them safety back on the road and Lofti thumped him on the shoulder. Cassa gave him a bashful smile and thumped him in return. Juino and Galli jumped up from their seats and hugged their uncle around the middle, wishing him luck in "killing the bad men."

Voya fetched a bundle of casual Gamlakhi garments from his sleeping room and handed them over to Tan a little grudgingly. The look on his face said that he'd rather swallow a cup of curdled milk than lend his clothes to an Almysi criminal. They differed little from the shirt and pants Tan already wore, except that they covered his limbs in full as stated in High Farban dress-code.

"Those're some of my best, suh," he said to Tan. "Ma bought me them from the West District because I liked the patterns down the sleeves. Blue, purple and gold, just like the city-folk fashion."

"I'll make sure they get back to you," Tan replied, without the heart to tell Voya he disliked the garish design. He switched clothes in the living-room - Cassa averted his eyes as a gesture of privacy - and replaced his scarf and pendant.

"That's pretty," Voya said to him, prodding the pale-blue charm. "Did ya nick it?"

Cassa spoke first. "Is that a suitable question to address your guest?"

"Tcha! What's bitten you today, Cassa?"

"Shall we go?" Tan said as he slid his feet into Voya's spare slippers. How I loathe footwear. "The sky's getting dark and the ghûls will arrive by nightfall. The sooner we leave the more chance is in our favour of arriving at the gates with all our blood accounted for."

"Before ya go, wear this." The teen handed Tan a length of delicate, violet silk. "It's the only silk I own, but you can borrow it to cover up your hair if ya like, just as long as I get it back or Ma will kill me. If they see you're pale-haired they'll know you ain't me, even in the dark. Cassa might think the Guard is dense, but he said nothin' about them being blind as well."

Tan fingered the airy material. It was as if he held a ribbon of water. "Thanks. But I have no idea how to wear this."

"You just ... You sort of ... No, not like that. Start from the temple."

"Useless," the guard muttered from behind him. "Give it here and face me. Hurry, or the ghûls will be on us before we're even half way to the gates."