The Fourth Piper: Extras

Loschal of Wengall and a Few Drafts

Alternatively: If Mordred Was an Alcoholic and Just a Bad Person in General

Also Alternatively: CRI WHY DO I LOVE THESE SIBLINGS

Loschal, despite being severely inebriated, was in danger of fire-gazing. He'd gotten to the point where the fire in the tavern's hearth had taken up his entire vision, his hot and dry eyes fixated on the wavering blaze. Dancing with such a ferocity Loschal could almost hear a frenzied song behind the blurry dance, the tongues of flame shifted in and out. Red-gold. Bronzy light. That was what he saw, but what he truly saw was more than that—more than the fire whose contorting curves looks like that of a serpent, whose liquid-soft embers looked like that of a pulsing face, and whose crackling sparks looked like that of wisps of voice. Something else . . . if only he could see . . . think past the warm fuzz clouding his mind . . .

"Loschal Wengall!" A dark shape crossed his sight, disrupting the image and replacing it with a simple fire and the hand of Johina. Loschal shook his head out of his daze, glancing up at her as she said, "Only woodwitches dare to fire-gaze."

He rolled his eyes, slurring, "Do sparrows not hunt because only hawks do?"

Johina gave him a pointed glare as she crossed her arms. "I can't understand you even when you're drunk."

"Even th' sparrow . . . gets the early worm." Loschal furrowed his eyebrows, his mind dull. "Early . . ."

"Come on, then. Up you go." Taking a firm grip under his arm, Johina hoisted him up, sending his vision into a flurry of sparks that hadn't been there before.

"Waska . . . too hard." Loschal leaned into her as the sparks turned black, fading in and out.

Johina counted the mugs on the table with a direct and impatient finger, huffing as she turned her furious eyes to him. "Loketz, Loschal, you've really done it this time. Six? We won't be able to afford anything to eat for the next week thanks to you!"

"I've done seven an' I'll do seven. 'S better."

"No you won't, you worthless little—" She cut herself off, taking another breath. They started to painstakingly walk to the door before Johina turned to the unsuspecting owner of the tavern. "I thought I told you not to let him in here."

"I can't be the keeper of your brother at every hour, Johina!"

"Oh, yes you can. Stars know I can't be everywhere at once! I've got a house to maintain and with the amount of money this tavern has cost us, I'm constantly out tanning hides to make saddles Loschal started months ago and hadn't finished and with the war coming, I can't keep making more sacrifices just because —" Again, she stopped herself. Loschal stirred uncomfortably at the sound of his name spoken with such . . . such something, the world tilting and churning in a quick wave of black for a fleeting moment. "I'm sorry, Befenn. We won't bother you again."

Befenn shook his head, walking over to the table they'd left and collecting the mugs. "The only bother is the temper, Johina. But I'd have a temper if I had as many hangovers as I'm certain poor Loschal does."

"He's not poor. He's selfish and undisciplined," Johina snapped, but her eyes softened swiftly after. She glanced down at Loschal with calf-brown eyes so soft he could sink into them. And maybe he would if he was tired enough. Maybe he'd just lay down in her eyes for just a minute . . . maybe close his eyes . . . . "I'll talk to him, Befenn. Don't worry about us."

Johina opened the door to the tavern with one hand and they walked out. Loschal gave her a lopsided grin. "D'you . . . d'you think they'll do it?"

Pursing her lips, Johina started to lead them in an awkward step-push-stumble back to their house on the edge of town near the horse pastures. "Do what, Loschal?"