The TwiceBorn

A Song Of Darkness

“Yours is the light by which my spirit's born: - you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.” --E.E. Cummings

          “How can you just sit there and gorge yourself?”

Gre looked down at his bowl of steaming mutton stew coupled with two large pieces of oat bread with a side of honey and frowned contemplatively as though confronted with a difficult puzzle.  Finally he looked up at the scrawny boy impatiently rocking back and forth in front of him.

“Well Aubery, Winnie cooks better then my own mother and right now I’m hungry.  And I also enjoy sitting down while I eat.  Any more questions?”

A day or so had turned into a few and Gre wasn’t complaining.  He’d won—and lost—several rounds of Hawk’s Dice,drank, methodically worked his way through close to half of Winnie’s girls,drank, and made sure he was close by when Winnie dished out the day’s special. And drank.  He’d noticed his trousers had begun to feel a bit tight.

Aubery had also been productive.  In the same amount of time, he’d managed to piss off several of the dicers, been slapped at least once by every single girl in the establishment,  and had set Winnie on edge, which was akin to a water buffalo on the verge of a rampage.   And now here he was, Gre noticed sourly,ready to bust his balls just as he’d sat down to eat.

“Have you gone to the Livery to check on your horse?” Gre asked mildly as he took a bite of his stew. He caught the eye of the girl behind the bar and ale magically appeared beside his bowl.

Brede’s balls he was going to miss this.

“No,I haven’t gone to the fucking Livery yet today.  Why? He’s going to say the same shit as he did yesterday.  Just another day or so, just another day or so…” 

Aubery’s voice had a grating tone as he screwed his face up in an annoying mimicry of the Livery man and Gre felt the usual insatiable need to just pop him one.  He took another bite of his stew.

“Why don’t you go find out anyway?  If the horse is sound, we could ride out today.”

Aubery’s eyes took on a gleam.

“That’s true.  That’s very true,Gre.  You’re right.  Maybe  I will, then.” 

“Maybe ya’ll whut? Git the fuck out of my Inn?  Not a moment too soon, iffen so…” 

Winnie came out of the back room carrying a load of linen.  She eyed Aubery as she shoved the linen into the hands of the girl behind the bar.

“Tote those on up.  And ya better not have given tha little prick any ale.  Hard enough ta keep him alive when he’s sober.”

The girl took the linen, shaking her head vigorously.

“No’m, no ale fer him.” 

She gave Aubery a dark look.

“Nuthin’ fer him.” She mumbled. 

“Fuck you, slut.” Aubery quickly replied and pursed his lips together and made a smacking sound in her direction. 

Gre watched as Winnie’s eyes narrowed.  She reminded him of water on a low simmer.  All she needed was just a bit more Aubery before she came to an overflowing boil.

Winnie slammed a hand down on her bar and even though Gre saw it coming he still jumped.  He distinctly heard several pairs of dice hit the floor behind him in the sudden silence.

“Ya don’t swipe at my gals, ya lil festerin prick, ya hear me true on that!  I’ll turn ya lil hairless balls ever which way but loose.  Ya wise to what I’m sayin?”