Fire-heart (Tales of Alterra, the World that Is)

by C S Marks

  As Nelwyn had hoped, Gaelen was more than impressed—and not a little envious—when she learned of the adventure. “It certainly outshines my afternoon, which was spent caring for the horses,” she said. “Gryffa’s feet required attention, and they all needed a good and proper currying. Yet I enjoyed myself, even though my day has not been particularly interesting so far.”

  Nelwyn took the scented oil that Mikla had given her, placed a tiny drop on her fingertip, and stroked it through the silken mop of Gaelen’s hair, which the desert winds had made even more disheveled than usual. It was in need of trimming, as Gaelen now had to shake her head frequently to keep it out of her eyes.

  “What is that?” she said with wonder, as her senses perceived the fragrance. “It smells like…like the Greatwood, and…perhaps Mountain-home, at least in part.”

  “It is Mikla’s gift, that is all I know,” replied Nelwyn. “He did not explain where it came from.”

  Gaelen scowled, though her eyes were playful. “I’m not certain I would put any elixir in my hair that came from one known as ‘the poisoner.’”

  Rogond came in then with Fima, who had finally emerged from his chamber and was looking for a meal. The Company, now seven in number if you counted Hallagond and Bint Raed, would feast together for what Hallagond hoped would be the last time. Soon he would summon Rogond to a private conversation, after which he expected to be taking his meals alone.

  After they had finished their meal, Gaelen and Rogond went up onto the roof of El-morah’s establishment, from which they had a fine view of the sunset. The wind was out of the north, and Gaelen scented the air briefly before settling down beside Rogond. She sensed that he wanted to air some concerns with her, and she kept silent, waiting.

  At last he spoke: “You went out after Hallagond last evening, and you were alone with him for some time. He was in a foul mood when he returned, and sought refuge in a brandy bottle. What did you say to him?

  Gaelen would keep nothing from Rogond, for he knew her well, and she was not a very adept liar. “I asked him why he is so anxious to leave the only family remaining to him, and why he seems to have little regard for one who has endured such hardship to find him.” She looked away from Rogond, hoping that he would not be angry with her.

  “Did you, indeed? And what did you learn?” he replied, not at all surprised by her actions. He knew that Hallagond’s lack of regard for him bothered Gaelen, and that she would not long suffer it without at least trying to get to the bottom of it.

  “You are not angry?”

  He smiled. “No, Gaelen, I am not angry. I have only been truly angry with you when you deserved it. Now I am merely curious. What did my brother say to you?”

  “He asked me not to reveal it,” she said in a thoughtful tone, “yet I did not make that promise, and some things I shall reveal. Hallagond endured some terrible trial in the northlands…one that all but destroyed his faith in himself. The horror of it haunts his dreams. He did not elaborate, but I could tell that he holds himself to blame, and now believes that he is unworthy of respect. That’s why he has fallen into disrepute…because one so stained with failure is unfit to go among honest men.” She looked hard at Rogond. “I released him from his life-debt. There is nothing holding him now…he is planning to leave very soon, and when he does I fear we will never find him again. I know that must dismay you. I’m sorry.”

  To her surprise, Rogond was not dismayed. “Don’t worry, Gaelen. I have been expecting this, and I still have a card to play.” He chuckled softly. “My brother won’t be getting rid of me so easily. I knew he would be difficult, and I did not expect him to embrace me and allow me to lead him back north like a lamb. I made a promise to my father and I will do all I can to keep it. Still, I do hope it doesn’t take too long, for as you have repeatedly and correctly pointed out, our mortal lives are brief enough.”

  Gaelen was intrigued. “What card have you to play?”

  “It was you that gave me the idea,” said Rogond. He explained his plan, and Gaelen could not help chuckling.

  “Well, he’s going to hate me all the more. Still, it should work, at least for a little while,” she said. “It’s a simple plan. I like it.”

  “Tomorrow we shall see,” said Rogond, as he pulled her over to lie with her head in his lap, so that she could more easily observe the brightening of the stars.

  Rogond went looking for Hallagond at mid-morning. According to El-morah, he had not come down to breakfast, and Rogond did not find him in the sleeping-chamber that he shared with Fima. The dwarf had appeared at an uncharacteristically early hour, drawn to the smell of honey-cakes baking in Mohani’s oven. “Hallagond was already gone when I awoke,” he said. “I am surprised he has not eaten…his appetite is almost as healthy as mine.” He shot a worried look at Rogond. “I do hope he has not left us, for I find him likeable. It would be a good thing if he would travel with us, though he does not seem to get on particularly well with the Elves. Pity, that.”

  “A pity, yes, but not surprising,” said Rogond. “Recall what Turan told us. Hallagond has always had more of an affinity for dwarvish folk. And since most dwarves and Elves are like oil and water…”

  “That they are,” said Fima. “It would seem that your brother has discerning taste. Luckily, you seem to get on equally well with everyone, Rogond. Thank heaven for that, or this would not have been a tranquil journey!”

  Rogond took breakfast, to the surprise of Fima, who did not understand why he did not go looking for Hallagond at once. “Are you not fearful that he has left us?”

  Rogond swallowed a mouthful of cake. “How would he leave us? He does not have a mount here in the oasis; his horse remained at Bezaltor.”

  “He can always buy a horse, you know,” warned Fima, his silvery eyebrows lowered in disapproval.

  “He could, if any of quality were to be had. He has a fondness for a good horse; he nearly died of shame at having to ride Malvorn.” Rogond chuckled at the memory of his brother’s expression as he rode the laboring pack horse.

  “He might take one of our own horses…have you thought of that?”

  Rogond gave Fima a look suggesting that perhaps his friend’s brain had been addled by the desert sun. “And which of them do you suppose he might take? Eros? Finan?”

  “What about Nelwyn’s horse, or Galador’s?” Fima never referred to the horses by name, for to do so might imply that he found them anything other than troublesome.

  “The horses are presently under Gaelen’s watch,” said Rogond, to which Fima replied, “Say no more.”

  Rogond was correct; Hallagond had not left the Company as yet. The past evening he had gone to Haifa’s tavern, for he heard there was a game up and he wanted to join in. While there, he had spoken with Haifa, who expressed the opinion that Hallagond’s luck couldn’t have gotten any worse.

  “Your brother found you in spite of all our efforts. It is regrettable. He does not fit well into these southern lands, for he is proud and does not use good sense. He does not respect our ways as you do. I have forbidden him to return to my establishment.”

  “That’s certainly understandable,” said Hallagond, eyeing Haifa’s bandaged right hand. “Yet I intend to show him his own folly. Just be patient and indulge me if you can, and I will make certain he has no reason to remain. If he comes here with me, please do nothing to discourage him. I will reward your forbearance.”

  “Hmph! You ask much of me, Al-amand. Just make certain he leaves and takes his friends with him. That is all I ask.”

  “Then that I shall do,” replied Hallagond. “You need not fear him or his friends. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some ill-gotten gains to wager.” This he did, winning a small amount of gold before losing it again. There were those in the Chupa more adept than he. He had spent some of his winnings on drink, however, and when the establishment closed at sunrise, Haifa’s men found him underneath one of the heavy tables. They shrugged and dragged him out into the alleyway.
He did not awaken, but lay on his back with his mouth open, snoring loudly. After making the prediction that there would be fewer flies troubling the folk inside the tavern tomorrow, Haifa’s men laughed and left Hallagond to sleep off his drunkenness.

  While at Haifa’s, Hallagond had learned several things of interest. A man had come into the tavern with news of dire goings-on near the Neela. It seemed that two of Al-Muniqui’s brothers had tried to take the palace at the same time, and in the ensuing conflict all three had perished. The information of greatest interest was what happened after.

  Apparently the surviving brother, Waddi, had been thought feeble-minded, but was not. He was actually bright enough to know that his brothers were dangerous, and had feigned his affliction so that he could live in peace. Although he did not desire leadership, it was now thrust upon him, and there was every indication that he would rule with a much kinder hand than Al-Muniqui had done. He had already adopted his brothers’ wives and children as his own.

  Hallagond had suppressed a smile. That’s three fewer contemptible taskmasters in the world, he thought. They thought to take advantage of the situation, and it was their undoing. Now, it seems, the meek will inherit their empire. He would tell no one in the Company except Bint Raed, for it would cheer her. He had resolved to find Estle, and see whether she knew the whereabouts of Azori and his companions. Then he would leave, fine horse or not.

  Now he was awakened from his drunken slumber by the tickle of flies in his beard and the prodding of his ribs by the toe of Rogond’s boot. He closed his mouth, startling several of the flies that had come to rest there, nearly choking on them as they fluttered and buzzed in alarm.

  Rogond waited for the sputtering and groaning to subside as Hallagond came to himself. It was fortunate that the alleyway was narrow and fairly dark even in daylight, for Hallagond could not have endured the sun in his eyes. He squinted up at his brother with a bleary expression that rapidly turned into a snarl. “What do you want? Can you not see that I was sleeping? Thanks to you, I am now awake and in considerable pain. You had better have good cause for disturbing me.”

  As Rogond looked down at his elder brother, it seemed that Hallagond truly looked like the pathetic, unwashed, unsavory wretch he proclaimed himself to be. Rogond, who was not prone to excessive drink, looked at him with wonder. “You are absolutely disgusting. You need a bath, and a good ration of strong kaffa. When you have regained your senses, I would speak with you on a matter of some importance.”

  Hallagond continued to snarl up at him. “And what makes you think I want to regain my senses? If you had left me alone to sleep this off I would have been happier. Why can’t you cease meddling in my affairs? So long as we are speaking plainly, allow me to say that I did not ask for your aid, and I do not desire your company. I don’t wish to speak with you concerning matters of importance, or anything else. I neither love you nor want you. Are we clear on that point?”

  Hallagond’s words stung Rogond’s heart, yet he persisted, for his brother truly needed his aid whether he knew it or not. “Come on, and let’s return to El-morah’s. You can be made clean, and be fed and rested. Then we’ll talk.”

  Hallagond placed his head in both hands as though in unspeakable pain. He groaned miserably. “What part of ‘I do not desire your company’ did you not understand? Go home, Rogond. For the love of heaven, go home!”

  “For the moment, my home is where you are, Hallagond,” said Rogond with a smile. “Wherever you are! Get used to it. Since you will not come with me, I will tell you now that you might understand. I owe you a life-debt, and I must remain until it is repaid.” He smiled wickedly at Hallagond, who was staring at him with his mouth open. “Careful, my brother, or you will catch still more flies this morning.”

  Hallagond’s eyes narrowed, for in that moment he truly hated Rogond. “A life-debt,” he growled. “The harpy put you up to this, didn’t she?”

  “Speak no ill of her in my presence,” said Rogond, who was finding it very difficult to love his brother in that moment.

  “Then I had better not speak of her at all, for I will say only ill of her. She has deluded you into loving her, and she keeps you now on a short tether. You fawn around her feet like a dog, yet when your back is turned her contempt for you shines like a beacon. No Elf will ever regard you as an equal. You are a fool!”

  Hallagond knew that Rogond had been raised among Elves; Fima had told him so. He knew just what to say to infuriate and hurt his brother. Rogond’s face reflected this as he stood over him. Hallagond still lay in the dirt, though he had propped himself on one elbow.

  “Get up, you worthless wretch,” said Rogond slowly. “Let’s discuss this in a tongue that is familiar to you.”

  Hallagond smiled. “You would take out your frustration on me when I am thus impaired and helpless? I’m sure the Elves would shake their heads in shame, yet they always expect the worst from you, I’m sure. You cannot escape the burden of your mortal heritage. I’m afraid you have given your heart above your station, my hapless little brother.”

  “You have just talked yourself out of a thrashing, for I have realized that I should not soil my hands, despite the fact that I would derive great pleasure in wiping that drunken smile from your face. Your words are chosen to hurt me, and you have chosen them well, yet I know they are untrue.”

  Hallagond looked slyly up at him. “That’s right, Thaylon, keep telling yourself that.”

  “You won’t rest until I have wrung your neck, will you?”

  “It would be a better fate than living with you.”

  Rogond took a deep breath and stepped back. “Very well, then. It is regrettable that you would prefer death to my continued presence, but I still owe you a life-debt. Therefore, I shall remain until the debt is repaid. If you want to kill yourself, you will need to find another way to do it.”

  Hallagond’s expression grew thoughtful at once, as he mulled Rogond’s words over in his mind. “Another way…” he muttered. Then he smiled briefly before struggling to his feet. This act took several minutes, as he was most unsteady and his head was pounding. He made several failed attempts before he finally succeeded. Rogond did not offer to aid him.

  Hallagond turned and staggered back into the tavern. Rogond followed after him, for he suspected that his brother was up to something. Hallagond slumped in a chair at a corner table and waited, casting a conspiratorial look at Haifa.

  Haifa had taken Hallagond’s reassurance, therefore, when Rogond followed his brother into the tavern, Haifa did not interfere. Rogond sat with his back to the wall on the opposite side of the room, his expression wary, his hand never far from his sword-hilt. A serving-woman asked if he wanted drink, and he politely declined. Hallagond already had a now half-empty ale tankard before him.

  Rogond was uneasy; he would have felt better had Galador been present. He looked back to the table where his brother now sat with a woman; apparently she knew Hallagond well. They spoke for a time, and then the woman rose to her feet and moved behind him, massaging his neck and shoulders. She had already drained the remainder of his ale, telling him that he should drink no more today, an act that earned her a disapproving scowl.

  Rogond began to grow weary as the afternoon wore on. Is he going to waste the entire day here? To what end? Rogond began to worry. Gaelen would surely come looking for him soon, and she would not be welcomed. In fact, he wondered why Haifa suffered his presence in the tavern. He kept his weapon at the ready, just in case. He warned me never to come back in here. Perhaps he is merely waiting for reinforcements. My brother is up to something...that is certain!

  All the patrons in the tavern grew quiet as the largest man Rogond had ever seen lumbered in, accompanied by three others who were either relatives or friends. The big man was as tall as Rogond, but much, much more broadly made—he weighed more than Rogond and Hallagond put together. He was filthy, and the light of his eyes was mean and unintelligent. He called for an enormous flagon of drink, set
tling onto a low bench, apparently reserved for him, that groaned beneath his weight. All the tavern’s other patrons were careful to distance themselves from him.

  Ah. Right on time, thought Hallagond. Estle had gone out to take some air; he would not risk her safety, and his opportunity was at hand. He rose with little difficulty, for though his head still pained him and his judgment was still muddled, he was steadier on his feet. He approached the man and settled himself on the other side of the same table. No one, including Rogond, could imagine what he was doing.

  “Hello, my large and impressive friend,” said Hallagond. “I would like to buy you a drink, will that be all right?”

  The large man grunted malevolently, but he nodded assent, and at a word from Hallagond his flagon was refilled. He was not bright enough to be suspicious. Hallagond looked over at Rogond and winked.

  “Drink up, my friend. May you soon consume enough that you forget both your ugliness and your stupidity. Tell me…are you the only one in your family endowed with such attributes, or are the womenfolk as ugly, misbegotten, and stupid as you are? That would certainly be an intriguing and revolting sight.”

  The large man’s expression grew quite black, and Hallagond wondered about the wisdom of his plan. If he had not been muddled by drink, he would never have started down such a path. He steeled himself for the inevitable result, hoping that his brother was paying sufficient attention.

  Haifa could not believe his eyes. Hallagond had just insulted Hassan the Giant, an ill-tempered man who was not accustomed to being insulted. What in the world was he playing at? Haifa ran out from behind the bar, trying to prevent the inevitable. “Please, please,” he cried. “Calm yourselves, my friends, or take this matter outside. You will destroy my beautiful tavern. Please, let there be no fighting in this place today.” He approached Hallagond, who sat impassively before him. “What are you doing? Do you wish to end your life at his hands?”