Song of the Saurials - Kate Novak [10]
Equally protective of the singer's feelings and eager to break up the unpleasant atmosphere the song had created in the common room, Jhaele nudged her son Durgo and whispered for him to get up and dance with his sister Nelil. Durgo, a middle-aged farmer with little sense of rhythm, had as much love of dancing as he had of crows and weevils, but he was a dutiful son. He grabbed Nelil's hand and tugged her to her feet The other farmers shook off their uneasiness and began clapping to the beat. A few joined Durgo and Nelil in the energetic dance.
As Alias threaded her way through the tables to the back of the common room, she kept her eyes on the floor, too embarrassed to look at anyone. She wanted to rush up the stairs to her room and lock herself inside, but before she could get past the table where Dragonbait sat, the saurial paladin grabbed her wrist. He pulled her toward him, slowly but firmly. Alias yielded to his strength and sat down heavily beside him.
"That's the fifth time this has happened," she growled through her clenched teeth, made angry by her own fear. "I'm not singing again. You shouldn't have encouraged me."
Ordinarily the pair communicated with a sign language that Alias had taught Dragonbait. It was a variant of the thieves' hand cant, which the swordswoman had learned magically from the assassins who had helped create her. The visual language was capable of conveying quite complex ideas, but it still was inadequate when the paladin needed to comfort the swordswoman. Dragonbait reached out and stroked the inside of Alias's sword arm with his scaly fingers.
It was far easier to remind her how much he cared for her by touching the magical blue brand on her forearm-the brand which had bound his life to hers.
Alias felt her brand tingle at the paladin's touch, and her irritation subsided somewhat. His touch there always filled her with the paladin's own inner calm.
Alias laid her fingertips on the front of Dragonbait's tunic, where a similar brand scarred his chest scales beneath it. Alias knew that, despite the layer of fabric, he would experience the same tingling sensation she felt. Considering the misery she still felt, though, she couldn't help but worry that her touch would only disquiet him.
"What's wrong with me, Dragonbait?" she whispered, struggling to keep from crying. "Why can't I sing a simple song without ruining it?"
The saurial paladin shook his head. He didn't know.
Alias sniffed and caught a whiff of the odors the saurial emitted in response.
The sell-sword smiled ruefully. She knew the acent of honeysuckle was Dragonbait's expression of tender concern. The honeysuckle scent, however, was intermingled with the tang of baked ham, an odor that indicated the saurial was worried. Like a human's body language, the saurial's odors often gave away more of his true feelings than he would have chosen to reveal.
Someone nearby coughed politely, and the sell-sword and her companion looked up.
Lord Mourngrym stood before their table with his son squirming under one arm.
His lordship looked down at Alias quizzically and asked, "Is something Wrong, Alias?"
"Nothing important, your lordship," Alias said hastily. "I'm sorry I spoiled the song. I've just got a lot on my mind, I guess."
Mourngrym would not be put off so easily, however. Alias looked pale and frightened. With Nameless in jail and no one to care for her but the peculiar lizard-man, his lordship felt protective of the sell-sword. He sat down beside her, balancing Scotty on the table before him. "I'm the one who insisted you sing," Mourngrym reminded her. "I'm the one who should apologize. Now, show that you forgive me and tell me what's wrong," he said, patting her hand.
"I don't know," Alias said, trying to hide her fear with a shrug of her shoulders. "Sometime this spring I just started to sing strangely. I can sing a few songs just fine, and then one song suddenly turns into something about death and decay and darkness. I don't even know I'm doing it until… until