Today's Bits
now become an enemy, worthy of caution.
Maurice sat on his heels and chewed Sparrow’s jerky as he guarded the fire. He watched the horizon and waited for Shaara to bring back supper.
Twenty Three
South of Emman we found a prosperous innkeeper intent on impressing the local priesthood. The man’s boy, a lad no older than Shaara, was bedridden with fever and it seemed the malady was not new to the family.
“Took my wife off a year ago,” the innkeeper explained as he looked my troop up and down. “And my eldest daughter less than that.”
“Condolences,” Will said.
“I’ve got two more,” the man replied. “But Eric’s my only lad. Better for me if the gods look favorably on the child.”
Will’s long face hardened and he tapped the butt of his axe. I shouldered him away and bowed beneath the innkeeper’s frown.
“We’ll do my best to please, m’lord.”
“You’ve a reputation.” The man’s eyes shifted and caught on The Major and her companions. “It precedes you. Normally I wouldn’t bother with such extravagance, but if it pleases the priests –“
“Of course, my lord.” I took the pouch he proffered. “We will do our best for your son, my lord.”
“Set up in the pasture back yon. Come and sup when you’ve finished. It’s the free ale that will bring ‘em in, but not until late temple mass.”
Will watched the man stalk away, still sharp as flint.
“Let it go,” I suggested. “He doesn’t matter.”
“Better he find a good churgeon than try and charm the Seat’s skirted lackeys with drink and slight of hand.” Will had a few secrets of his own and after all this time I was in no real hurry to see them unearthed.
“The man’s covering his bets.” I weighed the pouch on my palm. “Nicely, I’ll add. We’ve all heard stories of temple miracles.”
“Heard, mayhap. Seen is another story.”
I shrugged and made for the pasture. There were a few new tricks I wanted to see about before the canvas went up. When Will did not find his place at my heels I paused and glanced back.
“I’m going to look at the child,” he said, once again tapping at his axe. “I’m no churgeon, but I learned a trick or two from my ma. Might be a thing I can do, at least get his fever down.”
I sighed, resigned. “Don’t be bringing any sickness into my family, Will.” And when he moped at me I flapped a hand in his direction. “Go. Hurry. I need you, tonight.”
The priests came as we all knew they would, a pack of solemn dogs scenting victuals. I know they spent some time at the lad’s bed. I did not hear what they told the innkeep, but the man seemed immensely when I caught his eye before the first act. As promised the drink ran in an endless flow and the meat not far behind. Neighbors appeared from across the fields and the inn’s common filled up and then overflowed into the pasture. My troop played especially well against the evening and the audience was amiable.
I knew the man was emptying his cellars on a gamble and while I did hope he won back his son’s life, I felt no qualms as I enjoyed the largesse. Nor, I assume, did any other guest. The sun sunk and the atmosphere became celebratory.
I found myself winded and dizzy, from drink and from the sheer joy of performance, and collapsed in a corner of the field not far from Maurice and his light show. The torches wheeled over his head, one after another after another, flushing the little crowd that knotted about his feet to orange.
“Man’s got some skill.”
Still panting, I looked around and discovered I was not alone on my chosen patch of grass.
The Major’s black haired guardsman sprawled an arm span away. He hugged a jug to his gut and from look of it he was well into the cups.
“Maurice knows what he’s doing.” I shed my boots in two quick yanks and ran my toes over the grass.
“You’re no odd hand yourself.” The guardsman showed his teeth in a grin. “I’ve been watching.”
“Have you?”
“Here and there. When Moire isn’t riding my arse. I like that thing you do, each time, at the very beginning,” he flipped one hand over and over, sloshing the jug.
“With the rope?” I considered. The man was obviously half gone but then, so was I. He had a handsome, rugged face and a surprisingly wide mouth. And, if I remembered rightly, he was the one without the boil.
“Mm,” he agreed. I slid closer. Maurice’s torches reflected in his irises. “With the rope. Difficult, is it?”
“V
Maurice sat on his heels and chewed Sparrow’s jerky as he guarded the fire. He watched the horizon and waited for Shaara to bring back supper.
Twenty Three
South of Emman we found a prosperous innkeeper intent on impressing the local priesthood. The man’s boy, a lad no older than Shaara, was bedridden with fever and it seemed the malady was not new to the family.
“Took my wife off a year ago,” the innkeeper explained as he looked my troop up and down. “And my eldest daughter less than that.”
“Condolences,” Will said.
“I’ve got two more,” the man replied. “But Eric’s my only lad. Better for me if the gods look favorably on the child.”
Will’s long face hardened and he tapped the butt of his axe. I shouldered him away and bowed beneath the innkeeper’s frown.
“We’ll do my best to please, m’lord.”
“You’ve a reputation.” The man’s eyes shifted and caught on The Major and her companions. “It precedes you. Normally I wouldn’t bother with such extravagance, but if it pleases the priests –“
“Of course, my lord.” I took the pouch he proffered. “We will do our best for your son, my lord.”
“Set up in the pasture back yon. Come and sup when you’ve finished. It’s the free ale that will bring ‘em in, but not until late temple mass.”
Will watched the man stalk away, still sharp as flint.
“Let it go,” I suggested. “He doesn’t matter.”
“Better he find a good churgeon than try and charm the Seat’s skirted lackeys with drink and slight of hand.” Will had a few secrets of his own and after all this time I was in no real hurry to see them unearthed.
“The man’s covering his bets.” I weighed the pouch on my palm. “Nicely, I’ll add. We’ve all heard stories of temple miracles.”
“Heard, mayhap. Seen is another story.”
I shrugged and made for the pasture. There were a few new tricks I wanted to see about before the canvas went up. When Will did not find his place at my heels I paused and glanced back.
“I’m going to look at the child,” he said, once again tapping at his axe. “I’m no churgeon, but I learned a trick or two from my ma. Might be a thing I can do, at least get his fever down.”
I sighed, resigned. “Don’t be bringing any sickness into my family, Will.” And when he moped at me I flapped a hand in his direction. “Go. Hurry. I need you, tonight.”
The priests came as we all knew they would, a pack of solemn dogs scenting victuals. I know they spent some time at the lad’s bed. I did not hear what they told the innkeep, but the man seemed immensely when I caught his eye before the first act. As promised the drink ran in an endless flow and the meat not far behind. Neighbors appeared from across the fields and the inn’s common filled up and then overflowed into the pasture. My troop played especially well against the evening and the audience was amiable.
I knew the man was emptying his cellars on a gamble and while I did hope he won back his son’s life, I felt no qualms as I enjoyed the largesse. Nor, I assume, did any other guest. The sun sunk and the atmosphere became celebratory.
I found myself winded and dizzy, from drink and from the sheer joy of performance, and collapsed in a corner of the field not far from Maurice and his light show. The torches wheeled over his head, one after another after another, flushing the little crowd that knotted about his feet to orange.
“Man’s got some skill.”
Still panting, I looked around and discovered I was not alone on my chosen patch of grass.
The Major’s black haired guardsman sprawled an arm span away. He hugged a jug to his gut and from look of it he was well into the cups.
“Maurice knows what he’s doing.” I shed my boots in two quick yanks and ran my toes over the grass.
“You’re no odd hand yourself.” The guardsman showed his teeth in a grin. “I’ve been watching.”
“Have you?”
“Here and there. When Moire isn’t riding my arse. I like that thing you do, each time, at the very beginning,” he flipped one hand over and over, sloshing the jug.
“With the rope?” I considered. The man was obviously half gone but then, so was I. He had a handsome, rugged face and a surprisingly wide mouth. And, if I remembered rightly, he was the one without the boil.
“Mm,” he agreed. I slid closer. Maurice’s torches reflected in his irises. “With the rope. Difficult, is it?”
“V
posted by La Tulipe | 2:48 PM
<< Home