Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [119]
“That I can come with you back to Folke. I want to see some of the Empire. I’ve been sheltered too long. My sword instructor would certainly seem an acceptable guardian in the eyes of those in Balmacara.”
A smile on his face. “You have a deal. Now hadn’t we better get back?”
Eir nodded a yes.
Denlin seemed to have fallen asleep. The old man’s head had tipped back, his mouth slightly open.
“Den!” Randur banged the table.
“Whassa … Oh, must’ve drifted off.” He slapped his own face to rouse himself. “What’s happened then? You two all patched up and in love?”
“We’re friends again,” Randur said, standing up. “We’re off now. Looks like the sun’s nearly up.”
“Aye. So, I guess you won’t be coming down these parts again, if the lady’s paying your debt.”
Was he really sleeping all that time? “No, I guess not as much as before.” Randur felt a little awkward. Despite Denlin being crude and obnoxious, they had a bond, had spent a good few nights drinking and laughing together. “Thanks for everything. We’ve had some good times down here.”
“Aye, well, don’t be a stranger, will you.” Denlin offered his hand. “Always welcome at my place, too. Enjoyed those card games we had there, without the riff-raff.”
The two men shook, but Randur noticed how the old man had discreetly returned the rings that belonged to Lady Iora into his hand.
Randur shook his head. “Cheers, Denlin. I’ll be back down here sometime soon—only, just for drinks this time.”
“Well you’ll find me here, doing a bit of this, a bit of that.” Denlin glanced to Eir. “Look after the lad.”
“He’ll need more help than I can offer.” Eir stood up quickly, walked out of the tavern.
As Randur reached the door, he looked back and tossed one of the rings back to him. “Buy yourself something smarter to wear.”
“And waste good lager? You’ve a lot to learn, Randur.” Denlin peered down into the bottom of his tankard.
A smile was all Randur could offer. Anything else would’ve been too awkward.
Randur and Eir stepped out into a bright Caveside morning.
People newly woken were venturing out into the streets, where boys were drawing carts of dubious-looking vegetables to the market. The sign outside the blacksmiths said “No Jobs.” Two officers of the watch were talking to a man sleeping in a doorway, demanding if he had nowhere else to live, and would he mind moving on.
It really is another world down here, Randur thought, turning to Eir. “Are people going to worry if you’re not back in Balmacara soon?”
“Why do you ask?” She regarded him with those big eyes. He thought for a moment that they might trap a man who wasn’t in control of himself. There was a vulnerability in her expression, he realized, something that made him want more from her. You have to be savvy to avoid situations like that. Trouble was, he didn’t think he was much able to deal with it.
“I want you to see something. I really think you need to see it.”
“Well, this is home. Ain’t a palace, mind, but I like to think there are those who’d kill for a spot like this.” Denlin stood back proudly as Eir gazed around his home. He hastily cleared away a couple of cups, as if the gesture would improve the appearance of the place.
The room was tiny, probably just a quarter of the size of her own sleeping chambers. Two lanterns illuminated the room in a dreary shade of brown. Simple wooden furniture, one small table with several chairs and Jorsalir ornaments scattered here and there. Religious paintings on the wall, in frames that had seen better days. The walls were crumbling, and even the incense burning in an adjacent room could not disguise a smell of dampness in the air.
Outside in the streets a banshee began her keening, and everyone turned to face the window instinctively to confirm it wasn’t themselves.
“There goes another one,” Denlin complained, “and there’ll be more as these temperatures plummet further—especially down this street, where a lot of oldies like me live.” Denlin quickly moved aside some wooden plates. “Damn sister of mine, but I suppose she does have her hands full.”
At that moment