Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [104]
"Dishonor? Why so?"
In response, Fyodor pointed to a small, rounded hill beside road ahead. Behind it, the village of Dernovia was visible on the horizon. Smoke from the hearth fires spiraled up from behind a high stone wall. Neat fields surrounded the walls, and shaggy rothй cattle gleaned the harvested grain fields. Smoke rose from some grass-covered knolls just outside the walls. One side of the hill was flat, and a door and shuttered windows had been cut into it.
"That is the home of Stanislor the butcher," Fyodor said. "It was learned that he had deliberately weighted his scales to cheat his customers. He has lived here, apart from other villagers, since I was a boy."
"Why?"
"It is said that a man is known by three things: his sword, his children, and his word. Deception of any kind is not lightly treated."
"Then don't get caught!"
"That is not the point," he said heatedly. "Even if no one else knows of this lie, I do. It is in that knowledge that dishonor lies."
The drow shook her head in befuddlement. This was new to her-dangerously new. One thing was clear: Fyodor had risked much to throw his lot in with hers. If she were ever found out, Fyodor would be considered a traitor, and she did not fully understand what this would mean to him.
They stopped at the gate, a large arch framed by massive wooden doors and more of the fanciful carving such as had decorated the Witchboat. Liriel noted common patterns: unicorns, deer, and hunting hounds formed borders, and scenes of mountains and village were carved in manner that created an illusion of great depth. The heavy doors were closed, as were the shuttered portals near the top of the wall.
"Stay here," Fyodor murmured to Liriel. "Do not dismount, whatever happens. Cast no spells, draw no weapons. There is no danger here."
He cupped his hands and took a deep breath. "I had heard there were men in Dernovia!" he bellowed. "Who cowers behind these walls like chickens in a coop?"
Liriel's jaw fell. Despite Fyodor's warning, her hand went to the dagger tucked in her boot.
Carved shutters flew open with a crash, and a black-bearded young man thrust his head out of the portal. A fierce grin split his face.
"Walk into the Black Bear's den, will you? Come, and welcome! We're fattening for the winter sleep, and you look soft enough to eat with a spoon."
In response, Fyodor pantomimed ringing a dinner bell. The portal slammed shut, and the door flung open. The bearded man hurled himself at Fyodor like a charging bear. Several other men, all of them garbed in rough wool breeches and leather or fur vests, boiled out of the walled town close behind him.
They surrounded Fyodor's pony and pulled him down. To Liriel's astonishment, the bearded one pulled him into a fierce, back-slapping embrace. After several moments of this they thrust each other at arm's length and grinned like fools.
"You look well, Kaspergi," Fyodor said. "Imagine my surprise."
The other man snorted. "I was always the handsome one. If not for this beard, the women would stare all day long, and who would do the baking?"
Fyodor glanced back at Liriel, as if he feared this observation might raise her ire where the friendly mayhem failed. The bearded man followed his gaze. A look of puzzlement crossed his face when he noted the silver-haired woman Liriel appeared to be. He touched his forehead in a gesture of respect.
"This is Liriel, who once called herself Sylune, witch of Shad-owdale," Fyodor said carefully. "She has come to learn from Zofia."
It occurred to Liriel that the men still blocked the gate. Any males who showed such disrespect to the priestesses of Men-zoberranzan would be summarily slain. The witches, far from taking offense, smiled tolerantly at this strange reunion.
"We will talk later," Fyodor said, clapping Kaspergi on the shoulder.
More of the same awaited them as they made their way through the town. Fyodor pulled up at a snug cluster of buildings. He slid down from his horse and whistled a few sharp,