The inn had not changed much – which was hardly surprising; yes, it felt like months since their last visit, but in truth, only ten days had passed – though it did seem lighter, somehow. The Illeas youngsters had gone to some effort to cheer up the place: candles, decorations, tablecloths, trays of food. Gialyn paid particular attention to the food table. Stuffed goose, chicken portions, cheese, olives, and vegetables of every kind: If only he had not eaten a few hours earlier.
There were at least forty people crowded into the inn, not including the barmaids, and maybe thirty of them were Gialyn’s age. They can’t all be from the Illeas’den, he thought. Albergeddy had barely half-a-dozen young folk and was easily twice the size of the Rukin village. Maybe there were more villages nearby, north of the Coi or further along the river. Either way, it was quite a crowd, and Gialyn didn’t like crowds.
Before he could do much about it, though, three girls grabbed him by the shirtsleeves and dragged him towards the bar. Gialyn shook his head and tried to protest, but it was no good.
Well, I may as well join in, he thought. Doesn’t hurt that they’re pretty, either.
The first; a dark haired girl with hawkish grey eyes, who went by the name of Sieva, asked him where he had been. Apparently, he was late to his own party.
“Nobody gave me a time,” Gialyn said. He watched as the young girl pouted as if she had missed him. Strange. “Sorry, I just followed Miss Lanay’s instructions.”
“Well, that explains it,” Sieva said. “I expect she had you bathed and dressed properly before she let you out, and she no doubt fed you, too.”
Gialyn smiled. “How did you guess?”
“She’s my mother.”
Gialyn’s eyebrows rose. Now that he knew, he could see the resemblance. However, Sieva was not as… round. She acted like Lanay, though, dragging him around as if he had no choice in the matter. “Your mother is very kind,” he said. Better to play it safe.
Sieva laughed. “Oh, you are a smart one. Nobody crosses my mother. I’ve got four brothers, all big as trees, none of them will say ‘boo’ to mother.”
Gialyn suddenly felt the urge to look around. “Are your brothers here?”
“Oh, they’re about somewhere. Probably sat in a corner, drinking and cursing, pretending they’re men. They don’t get much chance at home.” Sieva smiled. “Enough about them. Let’s dance!”
“Dance?” Gialyn started. “But there’s no music.” Thank the gods there’s no music.
“There will be, once we start. Come on.”
Sieva pulled Gialyn toward the centre of the room, into a space in front of the small stage. She nodded at the four musicians sitting upon it. “Bells in Her Hair, if you would, please.”
Bells in Her Hair? Never heard of that one. This is going to be embarrassing.
Sieva had him spinning around in circles as soon as the first chord struck. Gialyn had no idea what he was doing. Fortunately, it was not long before more people joined in. Between them, they managed to hide his dancing – if he could call it that – quite well.
That said, dancing was not the horror he thought it would be. Certainly not as bad as dancing with his mother at the Summer Harvest Ball. As for his… partner, the girl smiled when he made a mistake, which was more often than not, and held on tight as she led him around. Gialyn, for all his misgivings, found that he was enjoying himself. Sieva’s hair smelled of apple blossom. Her smile lit up her eyes as she laughed at his apologies. Everything was going well –until he saw Elspeth.
Gialyn’s shoulders stiffened when he noticed Elspeth. She didn’t look happy. Arms folded, a scowl on her face, she was sitting at a table with three of the older residents of Illeas. No, she didn’t look happy at all.
The music stopped. And Gialyn excused himself. “I’m just going to say hello to my friend.”
Sieva looked at Elspeth, then back at Gialyn. “Yes, she looks bored. You should tell her to come over, if you want her to, that is.” She patted him on the arm and smiled. “Don’t be long. I’ll be waiting.”
What does that mean, ‘If I want her to’? Gods, I can just see her in ten years, she’ll likely be running the village council.
Gialyn smiled as he approached the table where Elspeth was sitting. He nodded at her and was about to say hello…
“Oh, don’t mind me, please. You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” Elspeth said, waving dismissively toward Sieva, who had now made her way back to the bar.
For a moment, there was no sound at all in the inn. The musicians just happened to stop playing at that very instant. The folks sat at the table had stopped talking, too. They eyed Gialyn as he sat. One had a knowing smile on his face. Maybe he understood women! So typical, you never know if you’ve done something wrong until they tell you that you have.
“Nice to see you, too, Elspeth,” Gialyn said.
The old man who had smirked suddenly gave a chuckle.
As if that were a cue, the music started up again, filling the awkward silence with something that sounded suspiciously like the last song they had played. Gialyn didn’t care – anything to fill the void.
A long moment passed while Elspeth gazed out of the window. Eventually, she unfolded her arms and picked up her drink. “Have you had a good day, Gialyn?” She asked. Although it did not sound as if she cared one way or the other.
“I haven’t done much, to be honest: reading, resting, eating. I had a bath. How about you? Have you had a good day?”
A serving girl brought a drink over for him and placed it on the table. She smiled at Elspeth, looked at Gialyn, and giggled as she turned around. Elspeth eyed her as she walked back to the bar, right to the spot where Sieva was standing.
“That girl likes you, Re’adh. You shouldn’t be wasting your time with me,” Elspeth said. She took another sip of her drink, regarding him over the rim of her cup.
Gods, all this because I left her sat with a few old folk.
Gialyn ignored her comment. “So what did you do today?”
Elspeth put her cup down and smiled.
She smiled; he must have done something right, but what?
“Archery,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I have been up at the range with Lorne for most of the day. Mr. Arlec thinks I could be a Master in a few of years if I keep going the way I am.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Gialyn said, raising his goblet to her.
Was that a blush?
“Why thank you, Gialyn. I don’t doubt it, either, but it’s still nice to hear.” Elspeth sat up straighter and brushed down her skirt. She did look nice. Another skirt, what is it about Illeas’den that makes her want to wear skirts?
Gialyn was about to reinforce his compliment when someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was Miss Lanay. She stood behind Gialyn with a tall young man at her side.
The young man nodded hello to him, then bowed to Elspeth. He must have been one of Lanay’s sons; he had the cook’s kindly expression – although he wore it much better than she did, better even than Sieva.
Lanay ruffled Gialyn’s hair. “You look better for a bath and some new clothes, my boy. We’ll make a respectable fellow out of you yet.” She smiled as she tweaked his cheek.
Gods, I’m not ten, Gialyn thought, but did not say.
“Thank you, Miss Lanay.” Gialyn said, half-rising to a bow. “It was very good of you to find me the clothes.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, Gialyn. And you don’t have to call me ‘Miss.’ Keep it simple; ‘Lanay’ will do just fine. As for the clothes, you should thank Marcus here; they are his.”
Elspeth laughed, and Gialyn felt himself blush. “Thank you, Marcus,” he said, straightening the collar of his shirt.
Marcus gave Gialyn a quick, “Don’t mention it,” then curtly ignored him. The too-handsome boy turned all of his attentions to Elspeth.
The old man sat at the table chuckled, again. “Ah, Marcus, come to join the old folks, I see.” The old man – Gialyn thought he might b
e Ishban, the village elder – gave a wink and a smile to one of the others sitting at the table. His gaze slid over toward Elspeth. “I wonder why?”
Marcus sat down on the edge of the bench next to Elspeth. “I am Marcus.” He told her, in a ridiculously sultry tone.
As if she doesn’t already know you name, fool! She will soon sort him out, Gialyn thought.
Marcus continued, “I have waited for the roses to bloom; now I see there is one right here.”
Gialyn nearly spilt his drink. He sat waiting for Elspeth to snort, or at least giggle with incredulity. He waited… Gods, is she blushing?
Gialyn looked at Marcus again. He had to admit, Lanay’s son was good-looking, almost feminine: slight build, deep brown eyes – put some long hair and a dress on him and he would be the best looking girl in the room. Then he remembered something Grady had told him the last time they were here: “Compliment a girl, look like you mean it, and you’re as good as home.” Well, Marcus certainly looked like he meant what he was saying. Gialyn felt the sudden urge to hit the boy, drag him away from Elspeth. Who did he think he was, talking to her like that? He didn’t know her, not like Gialyn did. But there he was, sitting prim, with his smart shirt and tidy hair, acting like he could control Elspeth with a click of his fingers. Yes, a clip round the ear would do the boy some good, pull him down a peg or two.
Time for a change of subject…
“So, Marcus, what do you do around Illeas’den?” Gialyn asked.
Marcus’s smile slipped, and Elspeth glared at Gialyn.
The boy’s grin returned as he turned to answer. “I work in the fields with my father. We raise goats mostly. That, and plant a few crops: corn, oats, beans…”
Marcus stared as if waiting for the next question. When Gialyn said nothing, he began to turn back to Elspeth.
Then, “Oh really,” Gialyn said. “Do you have any fruit trees? My father has a small farm. We are planting some fruit trees. We’re having a bit of trouble with the soil, though. Do you find the same problems around here? You know… with fruit trees.”
“Come now, this is a party!” Sieva interrupted before Marcu s had a chance to answer. “Do you really want to talk about trees?”
Elspeth looked up, surprised to see the girl standing there –that, or angry – then seemed upset when Sieva dragged Gialyn away. He barely had time to nod a quick goodbye to the table before she had him spinning around on the dance floor.
Gialyn looked back at Elspeth. She was staring regretfully at him. Until she saw him looking, then she made a big show of laughing and giggling at Marcus’s comments. At least, he hoped she was making a show of it, and not because the boy was funny.
He heard another chuckle from old Ishban. At least someone was enjoying himself. Bad enough Gialyn had to dance, he didn’t think—
Abruptly Sieva turned Gialyn’s head towards her. “Let’s go for a walk. Ten minute’s night air will be good for us. It’s getting hot in here.” She had him by the sleeve and was halfway out the door before Gialyn could answer – yes, definitely the future head of the council.
The night air was relatively cool, although still close and a touch humid. Sieva dragged Gialyn all the way to the southern gate, not letting him go until they reached the cobbled road that led down the lake. Even then, she rushed off, two paces in front, her arms folded about her waist, and her long skirt dancing against her hurried footsteps. She looked frail in the soft moonlight. Not the strong girl he had met in the Haingar. She was much shorter than he thought, too. A thin, frail flower: maybe she was not ‘just like her mother.’
She slowed down when they reached the well and took Gialyn gently by the arm. Resting her head on his shoulder, they both walked slowly towards the lake.
Gialyn bit his lip. What was she doing? What was he getting himself into? Girls didn’t behave like this back in Albergeddy, at least not nice girls. Maybe it was just their way. He decided he didn’t mind, as long as it was just walking. But he couldn’t help wondering if Elspeth could see them the window in the Haingar Inn. And where were Sieva’s brothers?
The grass in the meadow paled under the half-moon. Silhouettes of birch, elm and the occasional oak lined up on the borders. One such line disappeared along the southern ridge, the place where Gialyn had caught his first glimpse of the wolf village.
‘The wolf village.’ It seemed strange to call it that now; it was Rukin, not wolf, not human… Rukin.
The loose dirt of the lake path crunched under their feet as Sieva spoke, “I’ll not be kissing you if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Uh… well… that’s…?”
Sieva laughed. “You like her, don’t you,” she said. It did not sound like a question, nor particularly friendly.
“Not… no… uh… I used to, but we’ve been through too much this past few weeks. She’s beginning to feel like a sister,” Gialyn said. He was quite pleased with his response; he wasn’t normally that quick witted around girls.
“I wish I knew a boy like you that well,” Sieva said. She tidied his collar and moved closer. “As much as we may not admit it, we girls like to know what we are letting ourselves in for.”
“Really!” Gialyn felt his brow crease; he must have looked startled. “I thought you were all about mystery and adventure.”
Sieva chuckled quietly. “And how many girls have you met, Gialyn? Not many, by the sounds of it.”
Gialyn had to laugh, although he thought his blushes might burn holes in his cheeks. “Not many. As far as Albergeddy goes, there is only Elspeth, unless you include Sal Reddish, and she’s… scary.”
Sieva threw her head back in laughter. “Scary? Why is she scary?”
“She looks too much like a blacksmith. And I’m not talking about the hairy arms!” Gialyn puffed out his shoulders and made muscles in his arms. He flinched as Sieva gave him a friendly slap on the wrist. He was half expecting a wallop.
“Well, some men like big women.” Sieva mused, trying to hide her quivering lip.
“Not many like those who can beat them at arm wrestling, though. No, that’s cruel. Sal is a good person. I wish her happiness, just not with me.”
“You’re a good man, Gialyn. That Elspeth could do much worse.”
An awkward silence ensued. Gialyn was sure Sieva was waiting for him to say something. And he had a fair idea what that something would be. But he could not say it. He could not say he didn’t care about Elspeth.
Another pause, then Sieva nodded as if she had figured something out. Her mood changed: lighter, less expectant. They reached the end of the lake path and stopped. She stretched up and kissed Gialyn on the cheek.
Gialyn’s heart thumped in his chest; it was all he could do not to trip. “I thought you wouldn’t… you know.”
“You deserve one for being nice to Sal, whoever she is.” She waved a finger at him. “Only one kiss mind, I would bet there are a few spies out watching us. My mother probably sent my brothers.”
Gialyn spun on his heel, looking back and forth among the trees and hedgerows, trying to catch a glimpse of an angry brother.
“You are silly,” Sieva said. “Come on, we’ll walk around the lake. I’ll even help you with Elspeth… if that’s what you want.”
Gialyn’s shoulders tightened. He was about to speak when Sieva interrupted him.
“Boys, honestly,” she laughed, then stared at him for a moment. “Fine, I won’t say anything. But you’ll have to tell her. She’s waiting for you to say something.”
“Is she? How do you know?”
Sieva didn’t answer. Instead, she shook her head, looking for all the world as if she would just as soon slap some sense into him. Gialyn really didn’t understand girls, not even when they spoke plain and true.
CHAPTER 6
Mott’s Lot: Part One
The morning came around quickly for Mott. Like most wolves, he was up with the sun. He woke in his alcove inside one of the three large dens located west of the village.
A dozen wolves shared each den – Rukin wolves generally preferred the company of others to solitude. Except, of course, when there were pups involved; families would then often seek out a place for themselves. But family or not, all the dens were simple; wolves didn’t share the humans’ need to own things. Small alcoves, clean water, somewhere dry to sleep; few needed more than that. In fact, not even the council members had their own space; it just wasn’t wolf-like.
That, at least, was one good habit left over from the old days. Despite constant fights over territory, no wolf had ever paid much attention to trinkets or treasure. Maybe it was because they couldn’t pick them up, or handle tools to make such things. As for fighting among themselves, the Rukin hadn’t done that in centuries. That sort of thing ended soon after they had learned to talk.
If they needed a reminder of how they used to behave, they need only look at the other less civilised wolves. Like the Illeasian Wildlings, whom Mott was due to meet in an hour.
The Wildlings, those living near Illeas’den, had made their home in the forest west of the valley. In many ways, they were no different from the Rukin. The main difference was their refusal to speak out loud – even though everyone knew that the Wildlings could talk normally when they wanted to. Actually, Wildings could be Rukin if they would only agree to come in from the forest and behave in a civilised manner.
In fact, that’s what today’s meeting was about. Today… last month… the month before that… they had been having these discussions for years – with very little progress.
Mott stretched as he allowed Rasan Brom to brush under his chin.
Rasan was a human. The old man had taken care of Mott’s den, and the wolves living in it, for decades. He would do everything from pulling out knotted hair to fixing the ceiling. Although, mending the ceiling was getting beyond him; the man was older than Ishban. Rasan was training his son, Deni, to take over his duties. Mott was glad it was the boy’s day off; Deni was far too harsh with the hairbrush for his liking.
“Those two foxes were back again last night,” Rasan said.
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