“Which one is this?” asked Fox.
“Trent, from Edgewood,” said Lai. “The two boys from Hatcher are already inside, but I didn’t catch their names.” They continued to watch the newcomer as they made their way to the tavern, Lai chattering away all the while. “One of the Hatcher boys and this one here are the only suitors in line for their brides. But I heard the other boy is fighting for the same girl as Larr Bracken.”
“Your dad’s going to be up to his ears in bets,” said Fox. “Did we send anyone away this year?”
“Not that I know of,” said Lai. As they slipped into the tavern and took seats beneath a window, Lai explained the custom to Neil. “When people marry here in the Highborns, the man goes to live in his wife’s village. So if someone’s wooing a bride in another town, he follows their rules of courtship.”
“So these men are here for your contests,” said Neil.
“Exactly.” She elbowed Fox and pointed to the great fireplace across the room. “Look! There they are.”
The two boys from Hatcher were already the center of a loud and curious group. The shorter of the two seemed surly and not at all interested in talking to anyone. But the taller was all smiles and hearty laughs.
“Which one’s going in against Larr?” asked Fox.
“The tall one,” said Lai.
Fox sized him up. Larr Bracken was one of the biggest, sturdiest miners in town. At seventeen he was just as tall as Borric, and almost as wide. In any other case, Fox would have thought that no one would be a threat to Larr. From the whispers he heard and early bets being placed, the rest of the valley felt the same. But now, watching this smiling stranger, Fox thought they might all be wrong. While he didn’t have the bulk that Larr did, he matched him inch for inch in height, and he was all lean muscle. To Fox, it was like comparing a bear and a great mountain cat. Larr, as the bear, might have the obvious advantage, but Fox was sure that in a fair fight the cat’s speed and agility would tip the scales.
Trent, the suitor from Edgewood, came bursting into the tavern a moment later, drawing every eye to the door. “A drink!” he bellowed, stomping across the floor and slamming a coin down on the bar. “Hot. And I’ll need someone to take care of my cart.” No one moved or spoke for a moment. And then Trent turned and glared at one of the younger boys at the bar, who jumped and scrambled outside. Slowly, talk returned to normal, but the eyes of the Thiccans were constantly flicking back and forth among the three suitors. An excited buzz filled with wagering and predictions filled the air, until finally the bells in the square rang out, and the tavern erupted in cheers. Borric’s voice could be heard even above all the clamor, directing suitors to the proving grounds and taking last-minute bets. Fox and his companions slipped outside quickly, joining the eager crowd of youth all flocking to the grounds.
The afternoon was spent enjoyably by all, including the many Shavid who had come to watch. Some of them even participated in the contests that were allowed for non-suitors. Fox enjoyed watching Radda best some of the Thiccan men in knife-throwing, and Fox himself took part in several rounds of Flap, a game rather like a seated, two-man, tug-of-war. Lai was busy taking bets for her father, leaving the boys to wander around on their own for most of the day. They watched the hammer toss and pick-throwing games. They stood on the sidelines and cheered as the competing suitors ran wheelbarrow races. And they, along with the rest of the valley, watched in fascination as the competition heated up between Larr Bracken and the tall stranger from Hatcher Valley.
The woman they were fighting for was Filia Beckweed, Rose’s oldest sister. She sat watching the proceedings surrounded by half-a-dozen other young women, all smiling and laughing and cheering for the contenders. As the day wore on, Neil kept watching her, a slight frown on his face. Finally he said, “Which one do you think she wants?”
Fox tore his eyes away from the wooden pen where Larr was busy tying the back legs of a struggling goat. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“The girl those two are fighting for. She’s been watching them both all day, but she doesn’t seem to care which one of them wins her.”
Fox followed Neil’s gaze to where Filia was sitting. She was wearing the traditional “dowry dress,” a simple cotton gown with long sleeves. Hers was an earthy reddish-brown, with a darker red sash tied around the waist. Filia had added a handful of matching red ribbons to the cascades of coal-black hair she’d let fall loosely down her shoulders. She was fiddling with the end of one of them and watching Larr in the goat pen. The longer Fox looked, the clearer he saw what Neil had meant. Other brides who were being wooed by more than one suitor tended to have a clear favorite. One they were hoping could best the others and earn her hand, where he had already earned her heart. But Filia watched Larr with the same look she had given the charming stranger: like he was a mildly interesting toy. One she would quickly bore of before moving on to something else. She watched the entire contest like it was simply a game, and not the course of her entire future.
The crowd around him cheered, pulling Fox back to the games. Larr had successfully wrestled his goat into submission, tying its front and back legs and pinning it to the ground. Now, he stood over it and raised his arms triumphantly over his head with a primal roar, earning another enthusiastic round of applause from his audience. As the goat was untied and led back to its stable, Lai elbowed her way to Neil and Fox through the crowd.
“Odds on Larr for the win!” she said. “No one’s ever pinned their goat that fast! That suitor didn’t come close! People are already placing bets on how fast Larr will pin him!” She pointed across the field to where Farmer Beckweed and his wife were deep in conversation with Larr’s parents, the Brackens. “They’ve practically already settled on terms for the marriage.”
“Hey, Lai,” said Fox, nodding toward Filia. “Which one do you think she wants to win her?”
Lai glanced at Filia and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I head Rose talking about her, back in the kitchen. She says her sister doesn’t even care, she just wants a roof over her head, until someday some foreign trader-merchant will pass through town and sweep her away to faroff kingdoms.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s her plan, anyway.” Throwing one last, irritated look at Filia, she added, “Someone can sweep her off tomorrow, and that would be just fine by me.”
Neil elbowed Fox and nodded at the goat pen. Two young men were now vaulting the low fence and stripping off their shirts. “Wrestling?” he asked.
“It’s the last game,” said Fox. “For most of the suitors today, it’s just a formality, since they’re all courting unopposed. But for Filia’s boys, it’s the final deciding factor.” As the first match began, Fox glanced at Neil. The older boy was watching the game with an almost hungry expression in his eyes. “You should try it,” said Fox. “Wrestling’s open to anyone.”
Neil didn’t answer. Instead, he watched the next five matches with keen, calculating eyes. Then, Fire Merchant Terric climbed into the ring for the start of the next round, welcomed by tumultuous applause from the crowd. He smiled broadly and stripped off his shirt, stretching and pacing around the ring, daring anyone to oppose him.
“He’s undefeated,” Lai explained to Neil. “He never loses a match. Last year when he won his bride, he broke his opponent’s arm, nose, and the other guy still walks with a limp. No one dares to go up against him now.”
The crowd was getting restless, which only made Terric smile more confidently. And then, Neil started forward. He stripped off his shirt as he went, revealing himself to be shockingly muscular. An excited hum filled the air, and then a rhythmic stomping of feet on the ground, and hands pounding on the wooden beams of the ring. In disbelief, Fox turned to Lai, but at the expression on her face he lost his words. She was looking at Neil with the same fluttery, girlish expression he saw on lovestruck young brides. He stared at her for a moment, stunned into silence. And then he punched her lightly on the arm, pulling her out of her trance.
“Enjoy th
e view while you can. Terric’s going to kill him.”
Lai stuck her tongue out at him and shoved him playfully in the chest. Then they both hurried forward, fighting their way closer to the front for a better view.
Neil had swung himself easily over the enclosure wall, and now the opponents paced along opposite ends of the pen, sizing each other up. Terric’s brazen smile widened as he casually rolled his neck and shoulders, preparing for the fight. All around them, bets and wagers started to punctuate the excited hum. The Shavid would go down in under a minute. In three moves. In one kick. Terric would break five of his bones. The Shavid might hold his own for awhile, but in the end the victory was inevitable.
But Fox, watching Neil, was not so sure. While Terric stood confidently at ease, every inch of Neil was poised to pounce. He wasn’t tense with fear, but with the sureness of a predator knowing its prey was unaware.
As Terric lunged, Neil darted away so quickly that the crowd gasped. Fox and Lai cheered as Terric, surprised, tried to recover. But Neil was there, so fast no one quite saw what happened. In an instant he had swept Terric’s feet out from under him, and then casually strode away, back to the far end of the pen. Terric scrambled to his feet, his smile gone, replaced by a look of confused fury. He attacked again, and was just as easily thrown off. But instead of finishing him, Neil backed away for a second time.
“He’s toying with him,” said Lai in awe. “He knows he can win, he’s just making a good show.”
“He’s a Player,” said Fox. “He’s putting on an act for applause, just like the Shavid. Instead of on a stage, or with music, he’s doing it with combat.”
As the match went on, it became ever clearer that Fox was right. Neil proved time and time again that he was the stronger fighter, but he always let Terric recover, rather than finishing him off. The whole match was a series of intense bouts, where Neil dazzled everyone with combat styles they had never seen before, punctuated by moments of calm where Neil leaned casually against the enclosure walls and Terric fought to regain his footing and composure.
Meanwhile, most of the crowd seemed to have transferred their affections to the shadowy young Shavid. And he played right into their eager hands, flashing a smile every time he pulled off a spectacular kick, and holding a hand to his ear as the crowd began to chant for him.
Finally, as the audience’s palpable excitement appeared ready to burst, Neil seemed to decide it was time to end the match. Rolling his shoulders and neck in an exaggerated mockery of Terric’s opening stretches, he then leaped forward and attacked, all flying fists and footwork. Terric fought back wildly, but within just a few minutes he was face-first on the hard ground, with Neil’s knee pressed into his lower back.
Fox was sure that his own mother, sitting at home all the way across the valley, could have heard the explosion of cheers and hollers that followed. As Neil helped Terric back to his feet with a smile, the Thiccans went absolutely mad. People calling for their wagers to be paid, hot-blooded young men challenging Neil to a match to prove themselves, and the empty shouts of excited onlookers who simply enjoyed the show all filled the air. Fox hurried forward to the enclosure wall to meet Neil as he climbed back over it. He grinned and clapped his Shavid friend excitedly on the shoulder, then jerked his thumb toward the edge of the crowd, signaling that they should escape before Neil was swarmed with admirers. Already, those who were nearest were fighting for Neil’s attention, but instead he waved them off with a charming smile and followed Fox to the outskirts of the proving grounds, where the crowd was much thinner.
“That was fantastic!” Fox said breathlessly as Neil pulled his shirt back on. “Where did you ever –”
“You learn a lot on the road,” Neil explained, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “It comes in handy, let me tell you.”
“Do you think ...” Fox coughed and tried again. “Maybe, while you’re here...”
Neil laughed and punched Fox lightly on the shoulder. “Yeah, I could teach you a bit. But right now, I’m starving. Let’s hit the tavern before the rest of the valley.”
Behind them, the fight everyone had been waiting for was beginning: Larr and the suitor.
“You don’t want to watch?” asked Fox, and Neil shook his head.
“I can’t stand to watch them fight so hard over someone who doesn’t care about either of them,” he answered. He cast one last, disapproving look at Filia, then shoved his hands in his pockets and started off toward the Five Sides, Fox close behind him.
Chapter Six
Picck
The Five Sides was almost completely empty, with most of Thicca Valley eagerly stationed at the Contests. The only other customer was Moss, the goat-breeder’s weathered old father-in-law. He sat in the farthest corner of the room, nursing a bowl of stew, and didn’t so much as glance up when Neil and Fox entered. The boys settled themselves across the room, pulling two chairs up to the hearth of the fireplace and propping their feet up to warm.
“Piiicck-ling!” shouted Fox. “You’ve got customers, you lazy dog!”
There was no answer from the kitchen, and after a few minutes Picck still didn’t emerge.
“Maybe he’s out with the goats,” said Fox. “I’ll go check.”
But Fox didn’t make it that far. As he cut through the kitchen on his way to the back courtyard, he stopped dead. There, sitting together on the counter top, were Rose and Picck. Fox fell back to watch, hidden in the doorway. They were filling pie crusts with some dark kind of berry that Fox couldn’t place from this far away. Rose’s apron was stained violet from where she’d wiped her hands, and every so often she would tuck a stray hair behind her ear, leaving a violet streak along her skin.
And Picck, it seemed, was being completely himself. His hair was a mess, and he wasn’t using his fake, deep voice. He was just Picck. The odd and lanky kitchen boy. And Rose was smiling at him with more genuine affection than her sister had shown either of her suitors. As Fox watched, she planted a berry-juice handprint right on Picck’s face, making him sputter and scramble off the counter as she laughed with delight. Smiling to himself, Fox carefully slipped back out of the kitchen.
“No luck?” said Neil.
“Oh, I had plenty of luck,” said Fox mischievously. “Just not with food.”
When Neil raised an inquisitive eyebrow, Fox lowered his voice conspiratorially and told him the whole story. Of the other morning, when he’d discovered Picck’s feelings for Rose, and watching them together now. “It’s perfect,” he said. “They must have worked here together every day for a year by now, and I never noticed it before. But he makes her laugh, and she ... well, she was looking at him like my mum looks at Father when he gets home off a trapping trip.”
“So what’s stopping them?” asked Neil. “Besides your friend Picck being entirely unaware, from the sound of it.”
“I’m not quite sure,” admitted Fox. But after a moment, he thought better of it. “Well, actually ...” He pulled his feet up onto his chair, leaning his chin on his knees in thought. “It’s the Contests. They’re for miners and farmers, and even some of the waresmen ... strong types.
Without having some other skill to recommend him, it will be so much harder to win her hand. To prove to her, and her parents, that he can take care of her.”
Neil glanced around at the empty tavern. “The Contests aren’t over yet. I’m sure there’s something he could —”
Fox shook his head. “Wrestling’s the last bit. And after the Contests, life in the valley starts up again. He wouldn’t have to wait until next year, but most farmers don’t want to be bothered with little things during the planting and growing seasons. He’d be hard-pressed to bring it up to her father any time before harvest. Besides, what could he offer? He’s a younger son.”
“And she’s a younger daughter,” said Neil. “What of it?”
“That’s just it,” said Fox. “She’ll have no dowry, he’ll have no family money to recommend him, and no prospects .
..” And then it hit him. It was so simple, he couldn’t believe that none of them had ever thought of it before. He scrambled to his feet so quickly that it made Neil jump.
“What’s wrong?” asked Neil, but Fox ignored him.
“Moss!” he called across the room, making the old man at his table look up. “Do you know where Borric is?”
“Storeroom,” grunted Moss.
With a quick thanks, Fox hurried downstairs, Neil close on his heels.
They found Borric re-arranging barrels of dry goods. “Oh, perfect!” he said. “You, Shavid. Help me move that,” he said, pointing to a crate settled against the far wall.
As Neil hurried forward to help, hefting one end of the box, Fox said, “Borric, I’ve got an idea that I need your help with.”
“Go on,” grunted Borric as he and Neil hauled their load across the room.
“It’s about Picck, and Rose.”
Borric chuckled as they set down the crate. “You mean the courting couple that doesn’t realize they’re courting?”
Fox smiled. “Sounds about right. But listen, Picck needs something to offer. He’s got to be able to provide for her, and he’s got to be able to do it now. The Contests are almost over, and let’s face it. If he has to wait until next year, she’ll be off the market. With Filia married off,
Rose is the last daughter that Farmer Beckweed has to worry about.”
“Well he’s a cursed fine cook, I’ll tell you that,” said Borric, sitting down on the crate. “That should be enough for a younger daughter.”
“Yes,” said Fox carefully, “he is an excellent cook. One you might want to keep on here?”
Windswept (The Mapweaver Chronicles Book 1) Page 7