by N M Zoltack
No. Proud. Pa was proud.
Why? Rase didn’t understand.
“But now, suddenly, after his brat whispered in his ear, Adair rushed off. Ever since, he’s been winning.”
“Winning enough to cover what he lost?” Merle asked.
“Not quite,” Linton snarled. He slammed his free fist onto the table. “But if his luck holds—”
“Luck,” Merle mused, rubbing his chin. “I don’t like the way this has been going for some time now. I know that you’ve been barred from other taverns, Adair.”
“I can explain,” Rase’s pa said, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice.
Merle held up his hand. “I’ve known Adair for a long time. A long, long time. He and Starla stood witness when Hylda and I wed. If there’s one thing I know about Adair, it’s that he isn’t a cheater.”
“Then how do you explain his reversal of fortune?” Linton spewed, spittle flying out of his mouth. The man was practically foaming at the mouth, which only made him a more intimidating figure.
“Sometimes, that’s just the way it goes,” Merle said evenly. “Your own luck was up then down. Why couldn’t his go from down to up?”
“You better think again,” Linton said, his free hand sliding to his hip.
Merle turned to Rase. “Son, do you know anything about cards?”
Rase shook his head.
“The dice?”
“N-No.” Rase stared at Merle’s pa, but the boy could feel the heat of Linton’s gaze on him. Rase started to sweat.
“What did you tell your pa if anything?”
Rase swallowed hard. “I-I told him to go to the privy.”
“Why?” Merle eyed Rase critically.
Rase fluttered his eyes closed and then forced them open. “I left a tankard of ale for him there.”
Linton jerked Rase closer to him and held a knife to his throat. “I knew it. Cheating!”
“How is that cheating?” Merle asked, but his tone was uneasy.
Rase’s heart dropped. He had hoped telling the truth would make things easier for him and his pa, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He held perfectly still, too afraid to move. The cold metal of the blade pressed against his skin, and Rase was afraid that if he swallowed, the knife would slice his throat.
Merle knew what his daughter had picked up. When Rase’s pa drank, he played better. Unfortunately, Linton had clearly discovered that too.
Rase’s pa gaped at Merle. “What the hell does it matter if it’s cheating or not? Which it isn’t, by the by, but he’s holding a bloody knife to my son’s throat, and you’re just talking to him as if nothing’s wrong!”
“Oh, something’s gonna be wrong if you don’t pay me the silver piece you owe me!” Linton shouted.
“I only owe you five irons,” Rase’s pa protested.
“Let the boy go,” Merle said. “You don’t want to owe Adair his son’s life, do you?”
“His blood could get me what I’m owed,” Linton growled.
“Who wants to buy blood?” Rase asked, his voice squeaking.
“Shut yer trap,” Linton snarled. “I don’t want to have to do it, but we all know the boy’s gonna die anyhow, just like Adair, Starla, and don’t you have another brat too? Don’t think we don’t know why you’re so desperate to get money, Adair. You can’t provide for your wife. You’re a failure at life, and you’re a failure at gambling. You keep trying for that easy money, but it’s run dry. Not that it was ever running in the first place, now, was it?”
“You be nice to my pa!” Rase shouted. “He’s doing the best he can!”
“Really?” Linton leaned forward so Rase could see his snarl. “Then how come you have the job, and he doesn’t?”
Rase fell silently. He had fallen into the job by accident. If his pa had tried to get a job, maybe he could’ve gotten one too. Maybe they could move closer to the Jolly Snapdragon. They could both work here. Maybe Leanne too or even Ma. Merle seemed sympathetic enough.
“Leave the boy go,” Merle demanded.
“Please,” Rase’s pa said desperately.
“Not until I get my money.” Linton was more stubborn than a mule.
“Linton, I don’t care how many coins you’ve given me over the years. You are not going to threaten a boy and one of my workers at that.”
“He means so much to you, eh?” Linton asked, straightening. Rase could no longer see the man, but he was sure the drunk had to look ugly, most likely sneering, his scar all misshaping his face. “He’s only been working here, what, a night?”
“Yesterday and today,” Rase supplied. He did his best not to swallow, but he had to, and the blade almost nicked his skin.
For all of Linton’s talking, he wasn’t pressing the blade as deeply against Rase’s throat as he could.
Only now did Rase realize that the rest of the tavern had hushed. All eyes were on Linton and his crew, Merle, and a pa and his captured son. It wasn’t right for a place like this to be so quiet.
A few other men stood, perhaps to see better, but none approached. They weren’t going to get involved. Rase understood, but he also hated that the men were willing to watch another hold a knife at a boy’s throat. Didn’t the world have any compassion? Didn’t anyone care about someone other than his or herself?
Apparently not.
“Two nights and you’re willing to keep him on even if it means I leave, I and my money.”
Rase could feel Linton shake his head.
“I’m not like you,” Linton said, his words slurring slightly. “I’m not a peasant. I’m the son of a baron.”
“Yeah, but you won’t be a baron yourself once your pa yields the crows a pudding,” a man from those standing called.
“You got an older brother, dontcha?” someone else asked.
“Unless you mean to kill them both to take the title, but I don’t know if them folk in that mighty fine castle will like that too much.”
Linton lowered his hand just enough that Rase could twist and see his face. All of that redness from earlier faded away, leaving his pallor blanched. “Don’t you go speakin’ about my family!” he roared.
“You have my future in your hands,” Rase’s pa said quietly. “Leave him go. I won’t gamble you none, and I’ll get you your coins.”
“How?” Linton challenged, refocusing on his main foe, ignoring the others. He brought the knife tighter against Rase’s neck than before. “You have none, and you owe me more than those irons.”
“Two hydra coppers,” Rase’s pa hedged.
“A silver coin,” Linton insisted.
Rase’s pa glanced at Linton’s men. They had to know how much was truly owed, but they fell silent, not backing either. Rase knew that if they had to, they would side with Linton even if that meant lying.
Pa lowered his head. “A silver hydra,” he finally said. “I can get it to you in a week.”
“Your son won’t last a week with me.” Linton laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls eerily.
“Leave my son be!” Rase’s pa shouted. “Take me instead. I can tell the boy where to get your coin, and—”
“And I don’t think so. Payment now, or else the boy is mine.”
Pa leaned heavily against the table. Rase’s heart slowed. He knew his pa didn’t have the money. His pa had made a choice to gamble. He had time and again, and he had lost. Now, he might well lose his son.
Instead of gambling, he should’ve been trying to find berries or nuts, fruits. Hell, even stealing vegetables would’ve been better. Too late now.
“A house isn’t four walls,” Rase’s pa mumbled. “It doesn’t matter how many rooms you have, if you have pillows or none. If you have servants. If you are a servant or a coinless peasant. A home is where you heart is, and mine is with my family.”
His pa stared at Rase, and he mouthed, “I’m sorry I failed you.”
Rase’s throat turned dry. What was his pa planning?
“I was greedy,�
�� Rase’s pa continued. “I didn’t realize this. I sold the farmland because I didn’t know how to care for it. Starla had no dowry, else I would’ve hired on hands to teach me. I sold the land, and I wanted to buy us a bigger house, but the prices were too high. I didn’t have enough. I thought… if I gambled a little… I won some, lost some, lost some more, won a little, lost heavy, lost it all. But I only lost coins. That’s all. I have my family. I have my heart, have my home. You want what you’re owed, Linton? I’ll get it for you. I’ve made mistakes, I’ll admit, but don’t take it out on my boy. Don’t. I beg of you.”
“Beg on your knees,” Linton said.
Rase wanted so badly to headbutt the man, but he was so short that his head came up to Linton’s stomach. The drunk was liable to vomit all over the boy. Then again, what was a little vomit if he were able to get away?
But Rase glanced over his shoulder as best he could. Linton’s face was screwed up with contempt and determination. He was going to get his money one way or the other, whether through a coin or blood. Rase’s, his pa’s… that didn’t matter to Linton any. Rase was sure of it.
“Pa,” Rase started.
His pa was already lowering onto his knees. “I beg of you, Linton. Leave my boy out of this.”
“You should’ve thought of that before you had your brat enter our affairs,” Linton said viciously.
Rase winced. He knew what was coming.
Or, rather, he didn’t.
Instead of the blade digging into the tender flesh of his throat, Rase’s pa grunted and upheaved the table. Tankards crashed into the floor, the leftover content of the stew-filled trenches upending onto the rushes. The floor couldn’t contain more filth at this point.
But that didn’t matter to Rase any. Linton, in his shock, lowered his hand with the knife but brought up his other arm to come up to choke Rase, but the boy was ready. He bit Linton’s skin as hard as he could and yanked his head to the side. The skin tore, and blood filled Rase’s mouth. He spat it out as Linton roared, and Rase staggered away, slipping on the slop.
Linton’s men were fighting Rase’s pa, Merle, and the other men who had sprung into action. Rase couldn’t tell if they were fighting for Merle or Linton. At this point, it didn’t really matter, Rase supposed.
The boy jumped onto the overturned table’s side and then leapt onto the floor. His pa was just ahead of him. Rase slipped his hand into his pa’s.
“Get out of here,” his pa grumbled. He swung a tankard and hit a man square in the jaw. Most of the tankards were wooden, but that one had been made of metal, and the man staggered back, stunned. Another hit, this blow landing on his temple, knocked the man down for good.
“I’m not leaving without you,” Rase cried. “You’re my home!”
His pa grunted, already attacking another man. No, defending himself, Rase realized as he watched. His pa would disarm a man or else knock him out and then wait until another approached him.
The scent of fresh blood seared Rase’s nostrils. Someone had been cut. He glanced around and saw the culprit. Linton had wounded one of the men who had come to Merle’s defense.
Because Linton and his men were going after Merle as much as they were Rase’s pa.
Rase’s stomach churned. He ducked out of the way of blows and ended up on all fours. None of the weapon-wielders had lost their blades, and the few metal tankards were all claimed by men in the thick of the fighting. There wasn’t anything Rase could use.
Scrambling to his feet, Rase almost tripped back down immediately. The stew was spreading all across the tavern, making the floor slippery to the point that Rase watched in horror as one man went down hard. As he struggled to get back up, a blade flashed and disappeared into his stomach. Another man fell, hit his head on the side of the overturned table, and fell to the ground, blood from his wound adding to the mess.
Rase gripped onto the nearest table. Nearly everyone was staying. There hadn’t been a ton of females there to begin with, and most of them had cleared out, although a few were waving tankards, threatening to beat their men if they didn’t stop and leave this very instant.
He had to get himself a weapon. Rase glanced toward the door that would lead to the kitchen. Osgar had to have a knife back there. The thought of using a weapon against someone, even someone like Linton, caused Rase’s stomach to churn so much that he bent over and vomited. Disgusting. All that lovely stew he had enjoyed earlier had burned on the way up.
No. Well, yes, he would go and fetch a knife, but he wouldn’t use it. No, he would give it to his pa. Rase didn’t think his pa would use the knife either, other than to defend himself. Linton wasn’t going to give up, and Rase’s pa was at a sever disadvantage.
Carefully, sliding more times than not, his feet covered in stew, vomit, dung, and who knew what else, Rase made his way toward the kitchen. Before he could enter the cooking area, Frieda slapped him upside the head.
“You and your pa,” she fumed. “Look at this mess! Look at it! Who’s going to clean it?”
“I will,” Rase promised. “I need to get—”
“You’re gonna get yourself killed,” she said firmly. “No.”
“But—”
“No!”
“Osgar!” Rase shouted.
“You aren’t involving him!” Frieda screamed. “I heard your pa’s speech. Well, he’s wrong. A home can be four walls, and my home is this here tavern, and the lot of you are destroying it!”
As if to prove her point, the entire place shuddered. Something hard came crashing down. Rase’s back was to the tavern, so he couldn’t see, but it sure sounded like stone had come loose from the wall or maybe the ceiling.
If the roof collapsed…
“The fighting has to end,” Rase said desperately, “and I don’t want it to end because there’s a knife buried in my pa’s gut. Please.”
“Your pa knew exactly who he was playing with, and he should’ve known better. Linton’s not a good man, and no one who associated with him is either.”
“My pa is,” Rase argued.
“He took Linton’s coins. He associates with him,” she said stubbornly.
“You don’t know everything!” Rase cried.
“I know a doomed soul when I see it. I’ve given men drink enough to know when some are drinking away their sorrows. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I know I gave men enough that it caused them to pass out and never wake up again. I know some need to drown away their depression. I know the world is cruel. I know that men struggle, but I also know what hard work is. I know what comes from working your fingers to the bones.”
She shoved her dainty hands at Rase. At the base of each finger were thick calluses.
“I’ve worked since I was five. First just sweeping and doing the rushes best as I could. Pa and I do the best we can. We give our all. The Jolly Snapdragon is all we have.”
Rase swallowed hard. She hadn’t mentioned her ma. Clearly, she didn’t have one, not a living ma at least.
“I’m sorry,” he started.
“Don’t. You have a house, a pa and a ma and a sister. Why didn’t your pa use your money for something other than gambling? He could’ve bought a smaller house. He could’ve paid a master to teach him or you for that matter. He has no training at all? None? What in the world did your ma see in him?”
Rase grimaced. “They love each other,” he mumbled, but he wondered if that was the truth. All the two ever did was fight.
“And your ma grew up on a farm? How is it that she didn’t know how to tend to it herself? Didn’t she help any?”
“I don’t know,” Rase said, feeling desperate. “There’s a lot I don’t know, but I do know—”
Another loud crash sounded. The shouts and yelling were turning into cries. More and more were injured. Perhaps more had died. It sounded like the fighting was heading their way, overtaking all of the tavern.
“I do know my pa is gonna end up dead if I don’t help him,” Rase said. “Like he said, he’s
made mistakes. Should he die for them?”
“Others have died for less,” Frieda said, lifting her chin.
“Maybe so, but…” Rase swallowed hard. “Please. I know I have no right to ask you anything. You’ve given so much, and I’ve not done my part. I just…”
Frieda stared at him, her eyes darting back and forth as she gazed at his one eye and then the other. After a long, terse moment, she sighed.
“You can’t help who your father is none,” she muttered, “but I won’t allow you to fight.”
“I just want to arm my pa,” he said. His worry and despair were mounting. Every moment that passed could be his pa’s last.
“You need to save yourself,” she said. “Now, go. Leave.”
Rase glowered at her and then shifted his gaze toward the kitchen.
Toward the kitchen window.
Without another word, Rase raced out of there. He left the tavern, scampered over to the kitchen window, and jumped inside. Thankfully, the windows were lined with glass, just flattened animal hide.
Osgar shook his head at Rase, but the cook made no move to stop the boy from grabbing a thick butcher’s knife.
“You know what you’re doing?” the cook asked softly, whispering. Maybe he didn’t want Frieda to overheard.
Rase grinned. “Doing what’s right by helping my pa,” he said loudly enough that Frieda could hear from the other room.
Indeed, the girl gasped, and she tried to yank on Rase’s arm as he tore out of the kitchen into the small room where she was and then burst into the scene of chaos that was the tavern.
Everyone was fighting everyone, and it was impossible to see who was who in the mess of arms and legs. So many were wrestling, but there were even more blades flashing now, and Rase gulped as he entered the fray. It wouldn’t be easy making his way to his pa, but he was going to have to.
Don’t worry, Pa. I’m coming!
For whatever reason, Rase let out a scream, and he plunged forward. He kept toward the wall as much as he could to avoid both the tables and the small fights that covered most everywhere in the place. That loud crash he had overheard had been a chunk of stone breaking out of the wall from behind Linton. At least the ceiling looked to be intact. The other loud noise must’ve been when another table had overturned.